back and forth again as she started to read. They faltered, then started again, moving more slowly.
It was a short message, which meant she must have read it through at least twice before she finally looked back at me. “This can’t really be from Korak Fayr,” she insisted. “Can it?”
I shrugged. “The last reports of coral vandalism would suggest his commandos are still operating on Bellis,” I said. “But there’s no reason Fayr has to be there in person. For that matter, we’re only assuming it was his group who pulled these latest attacks. The way the various Belldic Intelligence services operate, it’s entirely possible that someone else has put the pieces together and started running his own private anti-Modhri crusade.”
Bayta looked again at the message. “ ‘To Frank Compton: meet me at the Fraklog-Oryo Hotel. Magaraa City, Ghonsilya, Tra’hok Unity.’ Isn’t Magaraa City where one of the Nemuti sculptures was stolen?”
“Very good,” I said approvingly. “One of the Vipers, to be exact.”
“And the Bellis theft was of one of the Hawks,” she said slowly. “And Mr. Smith talked about one of the Lynxes.”
“A complete set, in other words,” I said. “The final set, actually, if we assume the other two sets were appropriated by the same people.”
“Don’t you mean the same person ?”
I glanced at the store where the three walkers had disappeared. “Either that, or we’ve got a large and organized gang working.” I agreed soberly. “The Magaraa museum theft took place about two months ago, with the Bellis one only five weeks later. That’s not nearly enough time for the same team to travel from Nemuti territory to Bellis, case the joint, and prep and pull off a second robbery.”
“So the Modhri has them all now?”
“Well, he hasn’t got the third Lynx, anyway,” I said. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“Then why was Mr. Smith killed?” Bayta asked.
“Not to get the Lynx,” I repeated. “Though come to think of it, that might have been the original plan: lure Smith and the Lynx to Bellis so that the walkers could grab it on their way out of the system.”
“If so, they cut it a little fine, didn’t they?” she commented. “Mr. Smith was coming in less than an hour before they were scheduled to leave.”
“Right, but remember he was delayed six hours waiting for me to get back to Terra Station,” I reminded her. “That would have given them plenty of time to negotiate and finalize any transactions.” I grimaced. “And possibly to consign Smith’s body to deep space.”
“What do you suppose went wrong?” Bayta asked.
“That one’s easy,” I said. “Smith apparently double-crossed them and didn’t bring the Lynx.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive,” I said. “It would have been a three-minute job to search a Quadrail compartment for something that size. If Smith had had it with him, they would have found it. and there would have been no need to beat him to death.”
“Unless they wanted to cover their trail.”
“A quick snap of the neck would have done that,” I said. “No, they don’t have the Lynx. But I’d say they really, really want it.”
“Enough to lure us into a trap?” she asked, lifting my reader for emphasis.
“Possibly,” I said. “But if so, that message isn’t it. It was sent long before we stumbled into the middle of this Lynx thing.”
“But not before the Magaraa museum robbery,” she pointed out. “It could be a trick by the Modhri to make sure we were out of the way when they went after the Hawk and Mr. Smith’s Lynx.”
“No,” I said. “Note the P.S. just below Fayr’s name.”
Bayta looked back at the reader. “ ‘Bring with you that strange but interesting gift of Human humor.’”
“That’s a reference to something he said to me just before our first raid on the Modhri homeland,” I said. “You weren’t there at the time.”
“He finds Human humor
It was a short message, which meant she must have read it through at least twice before she finally looked back at me. “This can’t really be from Korak Fayr,” she insisted. “Can it?”
I shrugged. “The last reports of coral vandalism would suggest his commandos are still operating on Bellis,” I said. “But there’s no reason Fayr has to be there in person. For that matter, we’re only assuming it was his group who pulled these latest attacks. The way the various Belldic Intelligence services operate, it’s entirely possible that someone else has put the pieces together and started running his own private anti-Modhri crusade.”
Bayta looked again at the message. “ ‘To Frank Compton: meet me at the Fraklog-Oryo Hotel. Magaraa City, Ghonsilya, Tra’hok Unity.’ Isn’t Magaraa City where one of the Nemuti sculptures was stolen?”
“Very good,” I said approvingly. “One of the Vipers, to be exact.”
“And the Bellis theft was of one of the Hawks,” she said slowly. “And Mr. Smith talked about one of the Lynxes.”
“A complete set, in other words,” I said. “The final set, actually, if we assume the other two sets were appropriated by the same people.”
“Don’t you mean the same person ?”
I glanced at the store where the three walkers had disappeared. “Either that, or we’ve got a large and organized gang working.” I agreed soberly. “The Magaraa museum theft took place about two months ago, with the Bellis one only five weeks later. That’s not nearly enough time for the same team to travel from Nemuti territory to Bellis, case the joint, and prep and pull off a second robbery.”
“So the Modhri has them all now?”
“Well, he hasn’t got the third Lynx, anyway,” I said. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“Then why was Mr. Smith killed?” Bayta asked.
“Not to get the Lynx,” I repeated. “Though come to think of it, that might have been the original plan: lure Smith and the Lynx to Bellis so that the walkers could grab it on their way out of the system.”
“If so, they cut it a little fine, didn’t they?” she commented. “Mr. Smith was coming in less than an hour before they were scheduled to leave.”
“Right, but remember he was delayed six hours waiting for me to get back to Terra Station,” I reminded her. “That would have given them plenty of time to negotiate and finalize any transactions.” I grimaced. “And possibly to consign Smith’s body to deep space.”
“What do you suppose went wrong?” Bayta asked.
“That one’s easy,” I said. “Smith apparently double-crossed them and didn’t bring the Lynx.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive,” I said. “It would have been a three-minute job to search a Quadrail compartment for something that size. If Smith had had it with him, they would have found it. and there would have been no need to beat him to death.”
“Unless they wanted to cover their trail.”
“A quick snap of the neck would have done that,” I said. “No, they don’t have the Lynx. But I’d say they really, really want it.”
“Enough to lure us into a trap?” she asked, lifting my reader for emphasis.
“Possibly,” I said. “But if so, that message isn’t it. It was sent long before we stumbled into the middle of this Lynx thing.”
“But not before the Magaraa museum robbery,” she pointed out. “It could be a trick by the Modhri to make sure we were out of the way when they went after the Hawk and Mr. Smith’s Lynx.”
“No,” I said. “Note the P.S. just below Fayr’s name.”
Bayta looked back at the reader. “ ‘Bring with you that strange but interesting gift of Human humor.’”
“That’s a reference to something he said to me just before our first raid on the Modhri homeland,” I said. “You weren’t there at the time.”
“He finds Human humor
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