“So they’ll assume we’re headed for one of those three systems, but they don’t know which one. They’ll have to look for us. There’s only one terraprox in the system we’re going to. There may be none in the others, or maybe four or five. But the terraprox worlds is where they’ll look because the salvage suits you’re carrying are designed for ordinary underwater work. After the way I ran from them, they’ll figure something’s gone wrong with Taunus’s plans, of course.”
* * *
Dasinger rubbed his chin. “and if they’re lucky and follow us straight in to the planet?”
“Then,” Miss Mines said, “you might still have up to six or seven hours to locate the stuff you want, load it aboard and be gone again.”
“Might have?”
She shrugged. “We’ve got a lead on them, but just how big a lead we finally wind up with depends to a considerable extent on the flight conditions they run into behind us. They might get a break there, too. Then there’s another very unfortunate thing. The system Dr. Egavine’s directed us to now is the one we were closest to when I broke out of detection range. They’ll probably decide to look there first. You see?”
“Yes,” Dasinger said. “Not so good, is it?” He knuckled his jaw again reflectively. “Why was Taunus pounding around on you when I came forward?”
“Oh, those two runches caught me flying the ship at top speed. Taunus was furious. He couldn’t know whether the Spy still had a fix on us or not. Of course he didn’t tell me that. The lumps he was preparing to hand out were to be for disregarding his instructions. He does things like that.” She paused. “Well, are you going to make a try for the planet?”
“Yes,” Dasinger said. “If we wait, there’s entirely too good a chance the Spy will run across what we’re after while she’s snooping around for us there. We’ll try to arrange things for a quick getaway in case our luck doesn’t hold up.”
Duomart nodded. “Mind telling me what you’re after?”
“Not at all. Under the circumstances you should be told . . .
* * *
“Of course,” Dasinger concluded a minute or two later, “all we’ll have a legal claim to is the salvage fee.”
Miss Mines glanced over at him, looking somewhat shaken. “You are playing this legally?”
“Definitely.”
“Even so,” she said, “if that really is the wreck of the Dosey Asteroids raider, and the stones are still on board . . . you two will collect something like ten million credits between you!”
“Roughly,” Dasinger agreed. “Dr. Egavine learned about the matter from one of your Willata Fleetmen.”
Her eyes widened. “He what!”
“The Fleet lost a unit called Handing’s Scout about four years ago, didn’t it?”
“Three and a half,” she said. She paused. “Handing’s Scout is the other wreck down there?”
“Yes. There was one survivor . . . as far as we know. You may recall his name. Leed Farous.”
Duomart nodded. “The little kwil hound. He was assistant navigator. How did Dr. Egavine . . . ?”
Dasinger said, “Farous died in a Federation hospital on Mezmiali two years ago, apparently of the accumulative effects of kwil addiction. He’d been picked up in Hub space in a lifeboat which we now know was one of the two on Handing’s Scout.”
“In Hub space? Why, it must have taken him almost a year to get that far in one of those tubs!”
“From what Dr. Egavine learned,” Dasinger said, “it did take that long. The lifeboat couldn’t be identified at the time. Neither could Farous. He was completely addled with kwil . . . quite incoherent, in fact already apparently in the terminal stages of the addiction. Strenuous efforts were made to identify him because a single large star hyacinth had been found in the lifeboat . . . there was the possibility it was one of the stones the Dosey Asteroids Company had lost. But Farous died some months later without regaining his senses sufficiently to offer any information.
“Dr. Egavine was the physician in charge of the case, and eventually also the man who signed the death certificate. The doctor stayed on at the hospital for another year, then resigned, announcing that he intended to go into private research. Before Farous died, Egavine had of course obtained his story from him.”
Miss Mines looked puzzled. “If Farous never regained his senses . . .”
“Dr. Egavine is a hypnotherapist of exceptional ability,” Dasinger said. “Leed Farous wasn’t so far gone that the information couldn’t be pried out of him with an understanding use of drug hypnosis.”
“Then why didn’t others . . .”
“Oh, it was attempted. But you’ll remember,” Dasinger said, “that I had a little trouble getting close to you with an antihypnotic. The good doctor got to Farous first, that’s all. Instead of the few minutes he spent on you, he could put in hour after hour conditioning Farous. Later comers simply didn’t stand a chance of getting through to him.”
* * *
Duomart Mines was silent a moment, then asked, “Why did you two come out to the Willata Fleet station and hire one of our ships? Your cruiser’s a lot slower than the Mooncat but it would have got you here.”
Dasinger said, “Dr. Egavine slipped up on one point. One can hardly blame him for it since interstellar navigation isn’t in his line. The reference points on the maps he had Farous make up for him turned out to be meaningless when compared with Federation star charts. We needed the opportunity to check them against your Fleet maps. They make sense then.”
“I see.” Duomart gave him a sideways glance, remarked, “You know, the way you’ve put it, the thing’s still pretty fishy.”
“In what manner?”
“Dr. Egavine finished off old Farous, didn’t he?”
“He may have,” Dasinger conceded. “It would be impossible to prove it now. You can’t force a man to testify against himself. It’s true, of course, that Farous died at a very convenient moment, from Dr. Egavine’s point of view.”
“Well,” she said, “a man like that wouldn’t be satisfied with half a salvage fee when he saw the chance to quietly make away with the entire Dosey Asteroids haul.”
“That could be,” Dasinger said thoughtfully. “On the other hand, a man who had committed an unprovable murder to obtain a legal claim to six million credits might very well decide not to push his luck any farther. You know the space salvage ruling that when a criminal act or criminal intent can be shown in connection with an operation like this, the guilty person automatically forfeits any claim he has to the fee.”
“Yes, I know . . . and of course,” Miss Mines said, “you aren’t necessarily so lily white either. That’s another possibility. And there’s still another one. You don’t happen to be a Federation detective, do you?”
Dasinger blinked. After a moment he said, “Not a bad guess. However, I don’t work for the Federation.”
“Oh? For whom do you work?”
“At the moment, and indirectly, for the Dosey Asteroids Company.”
“Insurance?”
“No. After Farous died, Dosey Asteroids employed a detective agency to investigate the matter. I represent the agency.”
“The agency collects on the salvage?”
“That’s the agreement. We deliver the goods or get nothing.”
“And Dr. Egavine?”
Dasinger shrugged. “If the doctor keeps his nose clean, he stays entitled to half the salvage fee.”
“What about the way he got the information from Farous?” she asked.
“From any professional viewpoint, that was highly unethical procedure. But there’s no evidence Egavine broke any laws.”
Miss Mines studied him, her eyes bright and quizzical. “I had a feeling about you,” she said. “I . . .”
A warning burr came from the tolerance indicator; the girl turned her head quickly, said, “Cat’s complaining . . . looks like we’re hitting the first system stresses!” She slid back into the pilot seat. “Be with you again in a while . . .”
* * *
When Dasinger returned presently to the control section Duomart sat at ease in the pilot seat with coffee and a sandwich before her.
“How are the mutineers doing?” she asked.
“They ate with a good appetite, said nothing, and gave me no trouble,” Dasinger said; “They still pretend they don’t understand Federation translingue. Dr. Egavine’s a bit sulky. He wanted to be up front during the prelanding period. I told him he could watch things through his cabin communicator screen.”
Miss Mines finished her sandwich, her eyes thoughtful. “I’ve been wondering, you know . . . how can you be sure Dr. Egavine told you the truth about what he got from Leed Farous?”
Dasinger said, “I studied the recordings Dr. Egavine made of his sessions with Farous in the hospital. He may have held back on a few details, but the recordings were genuine enough.”