[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.The sleep-deprived armsman was holding up all right for the moment, but Miles figured he would be dragging dangerously by mid-afternoon.Miles had an unpleasant sensation of sinking in a quicksand of diversions and losing his grip on his initial mission.Which had been what? Oh, yes, free the fleet.He suppressed an internal snarl of Screw the fleet, where the hell's Bel? But if there was any way to use this disturbing development to pry his ships from quaddie hands, it was not apparent to him right now.They returned to Security Post One to find Nicol waiting for them in the front reception space with the air of a hungry predator at a water hole.She pounced on Miles the moment he appeared."Did you find Bel? Did you see any sign?"Miles shook his head in regret."Neither hide nor hair.Well, there might be hairs—we'll know when the forensics tech gets her analysis done—but that won't tell us anything we don't already know from Garnet Five's testimony." The truth of which Miles didn't doubt."I do have a better mental picture of the possible course of events, now." He wished it made more sense.The first part—Firka wishing to delay or shake his pursuers—was sensible enough.It was the blank afterward that puzzled."Do you think," Nicol's voice grew smaller, "he carried Bel away to murder someplace else?""In that case, why leave a witness alive?" He tossed this off instantly for her reassurance; upon reflection, he found it reassuring too.Maybe.But if not murder, what? What did Bel have or know that someone else might want? Unless, like Garnet Five, Bel had come to consciousness on its own, and gone off.But.if Bel had wandered away in some state of dazed or sick confusion, it should have been picked up by the patrollers or some solicitous fellow stationers by now.And if it had gone in hot pursuit of something, it should have reported in.To me, at least, dammit."If Bel was," Nicol began, and stopped.A startling crowd heaved through the main entry port, and paused for orientation.A pair of husky male quaddies in the orange work shirts and shorts of Docks and Locks managed the two ends of a three-meter length of pipe.Firka occupied the middle.The unhappy downsider's wrists and ankles were lashed to the pipe with swathes of electrical tape, bending him in a U, with another rectangle of tape plastered across his mouth, muffling his moans.His eyes were wide, and rolled in panic.Three more quaddies in orange, panting and rumpled, one with a red bruise starting around his eye, bobbed along beside as outriders.The work crew took aim and floated with their squirming burden through free fall to fetch up with a thump at the reception desk.A quartet of uniformed security quaddies appeared from another portal to gather and stare at this unwilling prize; the desk sergeant hit his intercom, and lowered his voice to speak into it in a rapid undertone.The spokes-quaddie for the posse bustled forward, a smile of grim satisfaction on his bruised face."We caught him for you."CHAPTER TWELVE"Where?" Miles asked."Number Two Freight Bay," the spokes-quaddie answered."He was trying to get Pramod Sixteen, here"—his nod indicated one of the husky quaddies holding an end of the pipe, who nodded back in confirmation—"to take him out in a pod around the security zone to the galactic jumpship docks.So you can add attempted bribery of an airseal tech to violate regs to his list of charges, I'd say."Ah, ha.Another way to get around Bel's customs barriers.Miles's mind jumped back to the missing Solian."Pramod told him he was making arrangements, and slipped out and called me.I rounded up the boys, and we made sure he'd come along and explain himself to you." The spokes-quaddie gestured to Chief Venn, who'd floated in hastily from the office corridor and was taking in the scene with unsurprised satisfaction.The web-fingered downsider made a plaintive noise, beneath his electrical tape, but Miles took it more for protest than explanation.Nicol put in urgently, "Did you see any sign of Bel?""Oh, hi, Nicol." The spokes-quaddie shook his head in regret."We asked the fellow, but we didn't get an answer.If you all don't have better luck with him, we have a few more ideas we can try." His scowl suggested that these might run to the illicit utilization of airlocks, or perhaps innovative applications of freight-handling equipment definitely not covered in the manufacturer's warranties."I bet we could make him stop screaming and start talking before his air ran out.""I think we can take it from here, thanks," Chief Venn assured him.He glanced without favor at Firka, wriggling on his pole."Although I'll keep your offer in mind.""Do you know Portmaster Thorne?" Miles asked the Docks and Locks quaddie."Do you work together?""Bel's one of our best supervisors," the quaddie replied."About the most sensible downsider we've ever gotten.We don't care to lose it, eh?" He gave Nicol a nod.She ducked her head in mute gratitude.The citizens' arrest was duly recorded.The quaddie patrollers who'd assembled looked cautiously over the long, squirming captive, and elected to take him pole and all, for the moment.The Docks and Locks crew, with justifiable self-satisfaction, also presented the duffel bag Firka had been carrying.So here was Miles's most wanted suspect, if not presented on a platter, at least en brochette.Miles itched to tear that tape off his rubbery face and start squeezing.Sealer Greenlaw arrived while this was going forth, accompanied by a new quaddie man, dark-haired and fit-looking though not especially young.He wore neat, subdued garb much like that of Boss Watts and Bel, but black instead of slate blue.She introduced him as Adjudicator Leutwyn [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]