“It is,” Tambu soothed. “I just like to be familiar with the individuals serving under me.”
‘All right. It might take awhile, though. I was never big on record keeping.”
“I’m particularly curious about two of your crew,” Tambu commented, unable to resist the jibe. “One of them is a short-haired blonde in her late twenties; the other is a boy in his mid-teens, Spanish-looking. I think you know who I mean.”
Blackjack was visibly unsettled by the request.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you had your sources, were you?” he said wonderingly.
“No, I wasn’t. Tambu out.”
He waited until Blackjack’s face was gone, then leaned into his console once more.
“Are you still there, Puck?” he asked.
“Didn’t miss a word,” Puck replied, his features materializing on the screen.
“Good,” Tambu nodded. “Try to get invited on board Blackjack’s ship-and take a few extra people with you. I want a report from you on their armament and personnel to check against Blackjack’s data. Can do?”
“Affirmative, boss.”
“Keep me posted, then. Tambu out.”
For a few minutes, Tambu leaned back in his chair smiling to himself. He considered calling Whitey, but rejected the thought. The board was clear, and his eyes hurt from staring at the screen for so many hours.
On an impulse, he rose and moved to the door of his cabin, activating the small intercom set into the wall. Hearing no conversation in the adjoining cabin, he depressed the button by the volume knob.
For long moments he waited, knowing that Ramona might not notice the small light glowing on her console even if she were in her cabin.