“Go light on MacDougal’s, between 10th and 11th. I have operations there.”

“Noted. I know it well. Here’s a reciprocal bit of advice. The governor’s a friendly. We don’t want to lose him. If you think to the contrary, say so now, and we’ll talk about it fully and frankly.”

“I don’t contradict that opinion.”

“Good. Now let me give you some information. Earthmay well want to lose this governor, but I assure you wedon’t. His fall from grace would generate all sorts of difficulties. Not insurmountable ones, but damned inconvenient, and apt to have repercussions. He’s upset local power games, made some factions very angry, had a major falling-out when he entered the financial games that were the eternal rule here, and powerfully annoyed the clique that runs the banks. In the process, he’s done a great deal to put the brakes on the graft that’s gone on here for generations. Consequently he has enemies, none from Earth that we know about, and I doubt Earth cares that much what he does; but there are locals with strong motives, shall we say, to make him look bad while that ship is pursuing whatever business it came to pursue. Notan advantageous result for your career, Agent Magdallen, if you should knock over that stack of breakables. So stay out of the way of my operations, if you don’t have anything to do with this ship. See to it that whatever you value down on Blunt stays invisible and inactive for the duration. That’s the long and the short of it. Your opposite number among the local Earthers is just as likely to go after suspects on his own list, given a little free rein by the governor. Be discreet.”

“Dortland”—that was to say, Reaux’s chief of security—“seems to have no idea I’m here.”

That was worth a long, cold stare. “In my local experience, Agent Magdallen, saying someone has no idea is a very dangerous presumption. An equally dangerous presumption’s that you know all my agents. Or the governor’s. Or even Dortland’s, who may be a separate operation from us or the governor. I’ve long suspected that. Do you think I’m a fool, Agent Magdallen?”

“No, sir.” More subdued, a far more cautious answer.

“I’m not a fool, Agent Magdallen.”

“I assure you of the same, sir.”

“Good. Good.So what’s my ultimate answer, from you, as to why petty smuggling would bring an answer clear from Earth?”

“Smuggling of biostuffs, and maybe not petty. That’s not theory, Mr. Chairman. It is going on. I know that. Earth is upset, but not panic-stricken. Nothing got through their barriers. Nothing was ever directed at them. I can at least assure you this has nothing to do with your governor. And I’m somewhat doubtful the ship’s visit offers him any personal threat.”

“If you learn any differently about their business here, I want word. I don’t insist you come here, but I want word, and I want it within the hour you learn it.”

“I trust—in your own expertise, sir—you know that’s not always operationally possible.”

“Call it a moral goal, Agent Magdallen. Attempt to achieve it. I’m sure you have unguessed capabilities.”

A little nod, a kind of bow. “I’ll keep in touch, sir.”

“Good.” Brazis picked up the watering can off the slate-surfaced cabinet. “Thirty minutes, Agent Magdallen, and certain people will start disappearing off the streets for the duration of this visit, or longer. I trust your scattered people and interests will respond to the warning I’m giving you. Do we agree?”

A little nod from Magdallen. “I can manage that. I’ll trust if I do say release someone—someone will somehow escape.”

Brazis looked at the man. This wasn’t a fool, or a man who’d push him—now. As well have an agreement with him, whatever he thought his powers were. “I think we can manage that. Contact me at need. Perhaps we can manage a much closer working relationship hereafter, Agent Magdallen. Since I can safely assume your target isn’t me, you can somewhat reliably assume mine isn’t you.”

A little bow, not a word of answer, no love lost.

But there existed now, for mutual reasons, a cooperative agreement.

3

A DECENT TIP TO THE WAITRESS, including the price of the gratis dessert, and so help him, if Ardath ever projected her pricey presence onto La Lune and ruined this place in some misguided sense of charity toward her brother’s favorite restaurant, Procyon swore he’d go into mourning.

Not that the staff would be sorry for a rise in tips. Maybe crashing dishes and no music in restaurants would be the new fashion statement. Maybe there’d be a new chic, for the slightly distressed environment.

But Procyon doubted it. Any new ownership would fire the staff for breaking the crockery, and they’d install that damned Rhythmique apparatus, grim thought, to pound rhythm into the floor. Then they’d triple the prices of the food, advertise up and down the street, and it just wouldn’t be La Lune anymore.

Damn, damn, and damn. He should call Ardath and absolutely threaten her life if…

“Staff alert.

“We have an Earth ship inbound for docking. You may have noticed.”

That was loud. Impossible to ignore, blasting through the tap. He’d stopped dead on the walk, as if he’d been hit with a stun, and recovered, trying not to be conspicuous.

Brazis himself. The voice always sounded different coming over a tap, the way people didn’t naturally know what their own voices sounded like outside their heads; but it was Brazis, from the inside, Brazis, talking to the whole staff, no matter where they were, and Procyon looked stupidly toward the ceiling of the corridor and its bright lights. He hadn’t known there were secure tap relays all the way to the bag end of Grozny.

But of course there would be, now that he thought of it. Brazis had his agents working in all sorts of places where trouble might hang out. They had to have some way to report in, off the common tap. There might even be secure relays on other levels of the station, for all he knew, wherever Brazis might have interests.

“Be discreet. Stay out of questionable places.”

Did La Lune fit that description? Intrigue wasn’t his forte.

“Best if you could all stay in your residences the next few days. Take this very seriously.”

The old man seemed actually worried. An Earth ship was coming into dock, and they were supposed to go home, pull the lid on, and stay there.

All right. That was a clear and sobering order. He started walking. Home it was. No show. Eating in and living in for a few days, he could do that. He could stop by the store and pick up a few items, and he’d be fine. He certainly didn’t want any trouble with admin or the old man, and reality had just jolted into his path, with an advisement that had to include police and everybody associated with the Project, a regular take-cover, as if there were something going on that threatened all of them.

But insatiable curiosity was his profession. He wondered what unprecedented thing was going on, involving this ship from Earth, that produced this kind of order.

He dipped into the common tap for the moment, wondering if there was any sort of news bulletin he hadn’t picked up. But all he heard was talk about a garden show, and a new music shop opening on second tier. He shut it down and cast an eye to the running newsboards as he walked Grozny toward home.