Jo Clayton: The Burning Ground

“Thank you, despoi’ Prehanet.”

They stepped into a corridor much like the one on the floor above. Two turns later they were in a tunnel rather than a corridor, the rock of the asteroid given a perfunctory polish and fitted with strip lighting; the walls were interrupted at short intervals by doors of gray plasteel with numbers shoulder-high in the center. He stopped in front of 22, flattened his hand on the palmplate, then stepped aside as the door slid open and a light came on in the cubicle beyond.

“As you can see, we have refilled this order. The buyer will be here tomorrow to pick up his goods. To increase the security we have installed EYEs in the storeroom and along the corridor. An unnecessary expense, but whatever helps the Directors sleep soundly will be done. They know my opinion, in case you’re wondering.”

Shadith moved past him and stood in the center of the cubicle looking around. No dust. “Was the due date pushed back at all?”

“Yes. We informed the buyer that there was an accidental contamination of the, Phase Three drugs, that they would have to be replaced.”

“The former due date?”

“The morning after the theft. Why?”

“Do buyers inspect the merchandise before it’s loaded?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you always clean the cubicles before the person arrives?”

“It depends upon the individual. This particular buyer, yes. There is an aversion to dust or any other signs of uncleanliness. The cubicle and every container in the shipment is cleaned thoroughly on at least three nights before it is to be inspected. But if you’re interested in the cleaner, you’ll get no joy there. She has passed a thorough probing and has no connection with the theft. And there is only one breather involved, the rest are ‘bots.”

“I see. Nonetheless I’d like a schedule of her movements on a typical cleaning pass. Rose?”

“If you’re done, then I am.”

The laboratory where the object had been stored looked open and airy despite being on the sixth level below ground; it was also quite empty. They’d passed a number of men, women, and others moving along the slideways and looking intently thoughtful or filled with purpose as soon as they caught sight of Prehanet. The only voices Shadith heard were those coming round corners; it seemed that the exec induced a zone of silence around him as he moved.

As they entered the lab, for the first time he had a shadow of a natural expression on his face, a crisscross of tiny wrinkles marring the skin about the eyes and mouth. “Several of the techs working on this project tried to refuse probe, but this is outside the reach of such conventions. They had reason, been running their mouths as if they had no off-switch in places with lots of ears. They have been disciplined. It is to be hoped Digby’s people are more prudent.”

Autumn Rose smiled. “It’s part of the service. Proprietary information is restricted to those who need to know.”

Ignoring this exchange, Shadith drifted about the room. It was a squat rectangle with smaller rooms opening out from three of the walls. The lock box where the gadget had been kept when it wasn’t being worked on was set into the floor in the room most distant from the corridor.

She knelt, brushing her fingers across the face of the lock, a pahnlock like that on the door of the storage cubicle. It was, after all, a working lab and the techs employed here would need to get into the thing without too much trouble. I could do it easy as spit and not jiggle a flake in that kephalos. Only problem is getting into the building. No way of faking it I know of. Inside job? Our pretty Exec says no and I’m inclined to believe him. Otherwise the Directors would have the thief and Digby would never have been brought in.

She got to her feet and looked around. Spotless as before. Impossible that it should be the cleaner, but who else went everywhere? These techphiles… depend on their instruments too much… I beat a probe once… different circumstances, still… “I want to talk with the cleaner, do her rounds with her tonight.”

“That is not possible.”

The answer came so fast she knew he hadn’t even considered the question, reinforcing her impression of his rigidity. “Why?” she said. “You operate on a diurnal schedule with most things shut down during the assigned night hours.”

“The schedule is to conserve trained workers; it costs less than finding adequate replacements and importing them. And it only applies to the subcategories. The Researchers come and go as they please, work to their own rhythms with such assistants as they consider necessary. They demand privacy and we ensure that they get it.”

“I see. Have you considered a Researcher as the thief?”

“We have considered everything. The Researchers were not probed, but none of them were here alone at any time during the window and the assistants were tested thoroughly. Their evidence and that from the overlooks provide reasonable proof that none of the Researchers on this level or any of the others could have accessed both this lab and the storage cubicle without being seen. And probing gave further evidence that the assistants were not involved. We have also investigated the lives of all employees back for several months, which is not difficult given the conditions here. All interactions with outsiders or even with other Houses in the Market have been explored; none of them involved anything remotely connected to the theft.”

Shadith strolled about, inspecting the instrumentation and making Prehanet very nervous. Looked a whole helluva lot like the lab was trying some back engineering. No wonder they’re so antsy to retrieve their gadget. Bet a year off my life they stole it themselves. Well, that’s not our business as the esteemed employer would say. Wish I had a clue how the thief got in… “I’ve seen enough here. Walk us through the night security posts, please.”

The ottotel was a wart at the edge of the Marratorium, Marrat’s version of a Pit Stop. Their rooms were standard nonluxe, what they’d find anywhere along the tradelanes. Shadith sat on the bed in her room, staring at the door, feeling that peculiar disorientation that plunging into a new place seemed to be bringing her these days-maybe this time because her harp was sealed in the ship and she’d nothing to do with her hands and her head was empty of words, so making a song or a poem was not possible. Or maybe it was because she was working to another person’s rhythms. Autumn Rose was calling this one as long as they were here at Marrat’s, Digby had made that quite clear. I trust your skills, but not your instincts, he said.

Her skin itched. Her brain itched. She wanted to be out and doing. But Rose said let it lay, so there it was, a corpse stretched out beneath her feet. The cleaner’s the key. I’m sure of that. She passed the probe. Contract labor with barely sufficient intelligence to manage a dust mop. But the only one who could wander unchallenged anywhere once she’s in. So if it isn’t her it’s someone who fooled the kephalos. And the Blurdslang. overseer. How to get in, though? How to take her place? I… The musical chime of the announcer broke into her thoughts.

She got to her feet and sauntered across to the door, expecting another chime, but it didn’t come. She tapped the announcer alive, saw Autumn Rose standing in the hall, her face calm, her hands still. She’s not one to fidget, no, not our Rose. That would be a weakness. She opened the door and stepped back.

Autumn Rose nodded at her, walked to the small round table in the middle of the room, and flipped on the block. She beckoned, and Shadith joined her.

“Did you get anything definite or was that tour mostly for irritating Prehanet?”