Marissa was sold. It wasn’t so much that anything Kieran had said would withstand rigorous scrutiny or a skeptical demand for evidence. But as a result of the very aimlessness that much of her life entailed—doubly frustrating for an active mind like hers—it was something exciting for a change, something that she wanted to be true.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“We need to help your father gain the same insight that you have begun to glimpse,” Kieran told her.
Back in the Khal’s room, Kieran found that the package containing the solution of nano-synthesizer assembly molecules from Pierre had been delivered. Since he still had time to spare before he was due to meet Leppo, he ordered a grilled mahi salad with a half carafe of chablis and ate it in the room while reviewing published information on Zorken’s management structure and key people. Then, donning his cloak again and putting the bottle of solution, the white work coat, and the box containing the Martian Cross in a plastic laundry bag from the room’s supplies, he took the elevator back down to the lobby level and wandered through to the room he had been in the previous evening, where the flowers for shipment were being prepared and packed. He found Marion at a desk, checking lists on a screen and singing out instructions to relays of white-coated assistants and hotel staff, coming and going. She didn’t recognize him.
“Ah! You must be the madam to whom I was guided. I am told you are the one to speak with here. I have just arrived today from afar.”
Marion took in his appearance and garb, and suddenly she was all attention. “You must be the person who was with Marissa Gilder this morning. I heard about you.”
This was even better than Kieran had hoped. “The same,” he acknowledged graciously. “We are old acquaintances.”
“It’s Mister . . . ?”
“Khal. Strictly, it’s the Khal, but I am easy about these things.”
Marion nodded knowingly. “So, what can I do for you?”
“I have a gift for her to take with her, naturally. But it would be incomplete without a floral tribute to our friendship. Could you oblige?”
“But of course. Do you have the gift with you?”
“In my room upstairs. I can be back with it in a few minutes.”
“Sure, that would be just fine.”
Kieran smiled in a way that was mildly apologetic. “I will probably need some help in choosing the right arrangement. It isn’t exactly my field of expertise, you understand.”
“I’ll be happy to take care of it personally.”
“Would you be able to wrap it too?”
“Certainly.”
“You are too kind, madam.”
“The least I can do.”
* * *
Kieran appeared in the lobby just before 2:00 to find it busy with wedding guests checking out and meeting in lunch groups, or leaving early for the spaceport. Leppo was already there, standing in front of the store near the reception desk; so was Casey, Kieran noted—watching from one of the seats inside the main entrance. Kieran ambled over to stand nonchalantly a few feet away. Leppo glanced at him briefly as he approached, then took no further notice. Kieran joined him in scanning the throng of faces. After a minute or more he murmured quietly, “Two rules if you’re going to be working with me, Sol, old chum. One, I’m always on time. Two, be prepared for the unexpected.”
Leppo’s head jerked around. He still had to stare for a second or two before he could believe it. “I don’t believe it,” he blurted, all the same.
“You’ve got the syringe?” Kieran asked him.
Leppo patted a bulge in his coat pocket. “It’s here, cleaned and working.”
“How did the practice go? Have you got it pat now?”
“Every time.”
“Fine. Here you are, then.” Kieran extracted the box with the Martian Cross from the laundry bag that he was carrying, leaving the coat and the solution inside, and passed the bag to Leppo. Leppo nodded, tucked it under an arm, and walked away in the direction of the men’s washroom. Kieran, carrying the box, headed back toward the rear of the lobby. Casey was half in and half up from his seat, staring uncertainly after the bizarre character who had appeared from nowhere, whom his partner had talked to. Kieran left him to make what he could of it. Marion was waiting for him when he came back.