Rael fixed her gaze on her tightly clasped hands. “A single incident wouldn’t take long. The thud of the victim falling probably triggers the rodents. — It can’t be the opening of the door itself since that happens all the time. — There might be a muffled scream if the poor wretch was conscious, some thrashing, maybe, but little more than that. They’d work fast.”
Her eyes glittered with a hard anger as cold as the depths of interstellar space. “However, I do agree that total longterm concealment would be impossible. Those running the swill joint across from it have to be involved and probably the staffs of the next one in from each of them as well. The third and fourth buildings on either side could be clean. They’re erotic houses. There wouldn’t be much activity out back from them, and the windows’re either painted over or shuttered. As for passersby or patrons inside, with the general clamor, a bit more just wouldn’t be noticed, or questioned if it were. It wouldn’t be loud enough or last long enough to make that much of an impression.”
“You’ve got all the answers, don’t you?” The Colonel’s face was a mask, her eyes hard, almost unblinking as they bore into the Free Trader.
“No, unfortunately. As I said before, I can’t supply the motive, though I suppose it has to be greed. The involvement of several establishments rules out psychosis or vengeance unless they’re all owned by one person. Even then, he couldn’t do it without the knowledge and active assistance of a good number of others.”
“Who are you proposing for the victims?”
Rael shook her head. “No one definite, not without knowing the why. They’re probably more or less alone, people whose presence wouldn’t really be noticed in a busy pleasure house and without friends, or powerful friends, to cause a stir about their disappearance, but the very opposite might be true, at least in one or two instances. — I just don’t know!”
The emotion she had been holding in check had momentarily gotten away from her, but the woman gripped herself again in the next instant. “That’s about it, Colonel. I’ve told you everything I can visualize that might be useful.”
A knock caused her to glance back over her shoulder.
The Patrol-Sergeant took a note from the Yeoman manning the desk outside and brought it to his commander. She glanced at it, then called out permission to enter.
Two men strode into the already crowded room. Rael’s spirit lightened at the sight of them. Miceal Jellico and Jan Van Rycke! She had no idea how they came to be here, but she felt a galaxy easier in her mind now that they were. A really good Trade Captain/Cargo-Master team was a force to be reckoned with on any level, even by the ranking officers of the rightly famed Stellar Patrol. Short as her term of service aboard the Solar Queen had been, it was long enough for her to recognize that these two were among the best in the starlanes. Their support would go a long way in bolstering her cause … if they believed her story.
The Captain came to a stop before the Patrol commander’s desk. “Jellico of the Solar Queen,” he told her.
“This is Van Rycke, my Cargo-Master.”
“Patrol-Colonel Ursula Conn.”
Miceal gazed coolly at his junior staff. “What have these four shooting stars managed to stir up this time? Your agent informed us that you’re holding them here but that they’re not in trouble themselves.”
“They’re not unless they’ve dreamed up what they conceive to be an elaborate joke, which,” she added hastily, forestalling an outburst of the anger she saw flash in Rael’s tired eyes, “I don’t believe is the case. They may, on the other hand, be mistaken. — Doctor Cofort, please repeat what you’ve just told me. I have it all recorded., but I’d prefer to hear it live again myself.”
The Medic complied. Although she felt drained and her nerves seemed stretched beyond the snapping point, she was encouraged by that request. It meant Cohn was giving serious consideration to her theory.
She did not take nearly so long this time. There were no interruptions, and her thoughts were fully organized and consolidated.
No one spoke for a few moments after she had finished, then the Patrol-Colonel pressed her hands on her desk as if trying to shove the whole matter away from her. “It doesn’t sound any less wild on the second hearing.”
Jellico walked over to the chair where Rael was sitting and lay his hands on her shoulders. Strength seemed to flow from him, bracing her so that her shoulders straightened a little. “Whether she’s right or navigating clear off the charts,” he declared flatly, “given their nature and the logic backing them. Doctor Cofort had no moral or legal option but to report her suspicions.”
The older woman sighed. “No more than I have any option except to investigate her allegations.” The spacer’s suggestion was mad, vile, and an on-world police officer might have dismissed it outright as sheer insanity, but the Patrol had its file of atrocities; this would not even make the list of its stellar entries. Considering what misnamed humans had done to their fellows in the past—and not the terribly distant past—it had to be viewed as well within the realm of possibility.
“Then why are you holding us?” Ali demanded. He had picked that up from the Captain’s introductory comments, and he recalled too clearly the treatment they had received while under suspicion of being part of a plague ship. It did not sound at all good to him.
“You four are staying out of sight until I’ve made some preliminary arrangements. I don’t want any evidence destroyed before we can get our hands on it. If someone noticed my lads picking you up by that alley, I’d as soon let them imagine it had to do with a cargo or starship question, smuggling perhaps, and forget all about you.
Slight though the chance might be, I can’t risk having a member of a conspiracy spot you on the loose, make some sort of connection, and start protecting his fins.”
“Why bother calling the Captain if that’s the case?”
“Because the Stellar Patrol doesn’t make a practice of detaining innocent citizens incommunicado indefinitely!”
The surplanetary transceiver on her desk buzzed for her attention. The Colonel listened for a couple of minutes, then thanked the caller on the other end.
She carefully deactivated it again and turned to those crowding her office. “That was the lab,” she reported somberly. “Your evidence seems to be the real thing, Doctor Cofort.”
“Bone?”
She nodded. “Human, not long dead, and every part of it is scratched and scored, as if by the action of numerous small, very sharp teeth.”
10
“Not to tell you your business. Colonel,” Van Rycke said after an instant of grim silence, “but it might be advisable to pay that alley a visit real soon.”
“This very night, Mr. Van Rycke. All of us.” She nodded when his brows rose. “I’m deputizing you six. My command’s limited in number, and I’ll need the others elsewhere. — Keil, get us a leg of rambeef, a fine big one with a long length of exposed bone.”
Thorson frowned. “Will it work, Colonel Cohn? They’ve killed recently, apparently. No matter how nameless their victims, they’d still give themselves away if they did it too frequently. If the rodents are caged . . .”
“We’ll give it a try. I’m putting credits down that the fall of a relatively heavy object on or near that step is the signal that calls them. If they respond in sufficient number, we’ve got a good part of our case. If they don’t, all we’ve lost is a nice piece of meat. We’re raiding those swill joints anyway, and the erotic houses as well. If the port rats are there, we’ll find them. If we’re extremely lucky, we may pick up some documentation as well, but I’m not counting on that.”
“You’ll be able to get warrants so quickly?” Rael asked in surprise. “With so little evidence of any sort?”
“We don’t need any. Such niceties don’t apply to Happy City and its sister pleasure districts.”
She saw the spacers’ frowns and shrugged. “The Canuchean government doesn’t approve of what goes on there. The lawmakers were wise enough to realize that an attempt to bar such activities outright would only result in driving them underground and open the way for a lot more besides. By confining the questionable industries to fixed areas, they can keep control over what does occur.
“Those who work in a pleasure district can, and often do, reap large profits, but they all must sign waivers accepting unannounced and possibly frequent searches of their businesses and residences, which also must be located within the district.
“Actually, not many complain. Most stay only a few years, make their pile, and run, and the legitimate concerns do recognize that the policy helps keep some less scrupulous folk relatively honest. The sale of raklick, crax, and a half dozen other similar poisons, the abuse of minors, grossly rigged gaming, plus all the violence that goes with them would be rampant without strong, unremitting control, to the point that a large part of the current clientele would be frightened off. Needless to say, there’s always some of that going on, but it’s at least kept in check, especially with the stiff penalties handed out for engaging in any of it.”