tried it?”
“It’s not like that, Jaguar,” Alex said, though he remembered how angry he was when Paul had Jaguar working blind in a Pentagon Blackout operation that could have been the end of her.
“Then what is it like? Bubonic Plague? Hemmorhoids? Why don’t they just kill me and get it the hell over with?”
“They won’t. They’ll just dangle swords over your head to get you to cooperate.”
“In what? State sanctioned murder of a disabled and defenseless mutoid, who happens to be innocent?”
“No. Going to Planetoid One.”
Her expression shifted from anger to tension. “Xipe totec flay them,” she whispered.
“I wish,” Alex agreed.
“They want to transfer me back? Permanently?”
“No. Just go and investigate in the matter of Francis Durero. That’s how they put it.”
Some of the tension left her, but the anger remained. “I don’t do investigation,” she said. “They want me there so they can pressure me to rescind.”
“If that’s all it is we’re lucky. There’s a lot of anger on One about your objections to the work programs.”
She made a sound like growling. “Warehousing prisoners for slave labor. Their economy’s dependent on the population they’re supposed to serve. Francis—that bear he clutches so assiduously—they make them for export sale, right? Pay their mutoids ten cents an hour, take the profits and call themselves saviors. And how much of their population is mutoid now?”
“A little more than half.”
“Most of them there for life. They’re taking in lesser crimes, too. Assaults, petty theft, public pissing. Great scam. I still can’t believe Regina’s supporting it. I’ve been talking about it for years and nobody listened.”
Alex understood her anger. He’d studied management psychology, and knew the tendency of organizations to promote those who served the profitability of the organization rather than its mission statement. Over time, without careful watchdogging, any organization could fall into the trap of forgetting what its original purpose was. Right now, Planetoid One was tilting distinctly in that direction, and needed a tap on the shoulder to turn it around. Jaguar, he knew, was an expert tapper.
“They all listened,” he said. “They just didn’t like it. But Paul listened for a more personal reason. His little sister was exposed to chembombs in the Killing Times. About two years ago she had a baby. Born with a blue patch.”
Jaguar’s face expressed the same interest a cat might on seeing a wounded mouse. “How interesting,” she murmured.
“Retract the claws,” Alex commented. “You won’t be using them. Paul started watching the mutoid programs on One. Diane got word of his interest and put a call into him. She said something was wrong, but she wouldn’t talk on the lines. She wanted a meeting.”
Jaguar’s forehead creased in thought. “About what?” she asked.
“He never found out. She was murdered first. She did say if anything happened to her, he should audit their exports.”
“Shit. It wasn’t Francis. I was right.”
“Like I told them, you almost always are.”
“Almost?”
He shrugged. “I made it always, for their benefit. Paul suspected a smuggling operation. They’ve got some high risk pharmaceutical manufacturing, stuff that gets sold illegally on the home planet. Citrozine’s worth the most.” That particular euphoric was very popular right now, recreational users willing to pay a great deal for it. He rubbed an invisible powder between finger and thumb. “Diamond Dust,” he said.
“Pretty,” Jaguar said, “and expensive. Who’s running it?“
Alex shook his head. “Paul couldn’t find any evidence. He did the audit and they were clean. Inventory stable, and their shipments pass inspection by every means.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know. Paul is hoping you’ll find out.”
“He’s asking me to do that?”
“Yes. But asking, not telling. He said he’d consider it a favor.”
She ran a finger down the tip of her nose to her lips and tapped them thoughtfully. “What do you say about it?”
“I say it’s a high risk venture. One woman’s already dead, and if there’s something illegal going on you’ll be next on the hit list. Even without that, Susan Eideler’s out for at least a little of your blood. Any idea why?”
Jaguar shook her head. “I didn’t have much to do with her when I was there. She was a team member, and I never requested her.”
“She’s moved up the ladder. She’s a Supervisor now.”
“She looked like she wanted to be a suit. What’s Regina say?”
“She says go and keep a low profile, let everyone get over their snit, and she’ll watch your back. But they won’t let me send back-up and nobody’s naming the limits of your time there, so I’m not very impressed.”
“You’re saying I shouldn’t go?” she asked.
“I’m saying I’d rather you didn’t,” he replied carefully.
“What’s my alternative? Retract my vote?”
He shrugged. “That would work.”
She turned her lucid eyes to his, reading for the feeling behind his words. She spoke to him subvocally.
Is that the kind of woman you want in your bed?
Better than a dead woman.
Not much.
He held a hand out to her. What could he say? They’d been through all this before. He had a heart filled with passion for her, and for the job at hand. She felt the same about him, and the job. It was a tension they’d learned to negotiate.
Call it, Jaguar. I’ll back you either way.
She broke contact and looked away. “Paul knows about us, doesn’t he?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“Anyone else say anything about it?”
He nodded. “They don’t want to push it. They just want to use it to push us.”
“That sounds right. You’re sure Dinardo’s not trying to get rid of me?”
“Not this time,” he said. “Apparently you have some senators in your pocket.”
“I
