Timothy Zahn - The Domino Pattern

That got me another glare as she slid off her stool. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “It’s not contagious, it that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Not really,” I said as she turned away and took a step toward the archway. “I’m sure Dr. Witherspoon would have said something to the Spiders it you were.”

Even with her back to me, I could see her reaction to Witherspoon’s name. “Who?” she asked, stopping but not turning around.

“Dr. Witherspoon,” I repeated. “The man you had dinner with last night.”

“I didn’t have dinner with him,” she said, still keeping her face away from me. “I was eating by myself and he came over and sat down.”

“And you immediately told him to take a hike, right?”

She hesitated, and I could see the tension in her shoulders as she tried to guess how much I knew, and therefore how much bending of the truth she could get away with. “He might have stayed for a few minutes,” she conceded. “He said he’d noticed my stomach problem and wanted to ask me about it.”

“What did you tell him?”

She gave me an oblique look over her shoulder. “Can I leave now?”

“I already said you could,” I said. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

She might have expelled a sarcastic snort as she strode off, but with the dining car’s acoustics I couldn’t tell for sure. She glared at the Filly who she’d sent to stop me, strode past Bayta and Kennrick without a glance at either of them, and headed back down the corridor toward her car.

“Well, that was interesting,” Kennrick commented as he and Bayta joined me at the bar. “What exactly did you say to her there at the end?”

“I take it there was a reaction?” I asked.

“Oh, a beaut,” Kennrick assured me. “What did you say?”

For a moment I considered not telling him. But he’d already heard the Nemut mention that Terese had met a white-haired Human over dinner, and it wouldn’t take much of a deductive leap on his part to tag Witherspoon for the part. “I asked about her dinner with Dr. Witherspoon,” I said.

“Really,” Kennrick said. “And?”

“She denied it was an actual dinner,” I said. “According to her, he just dropped by to see how she was feeling.”

Kennrick grunted. “Did you get anything about her sickness?”

“Not a whisper,” I said. “I wonder if you could do me a favor.”

He cocked an eyebrow, possibly noting the irony of a former Westali agent asking a former fugitive for help, But if he was tempted to make a comment to that effect, he managed to resist it. “Shoot.” he invited.

“I want you to track down Dr. Witherspoon,” I said. “Find out what the symptoms are of heavy-metal poisoning in Humans.”

Kennrick looked at the archway where Terese had just exited. “You think she’s the one who poisoned them?”

“No idea,” I said. “But she seems to be the only one who was in the victims’ immediate vicinity who’s also noticeably ill.”

“Yes, but her ?” Kennrick persisted. “She doesn’t exactly have that icy killer look about her.”

“Not very many icy killers do,” I said. “Maybe her stomach trouble has nothing to do with this. But if it does, I’d like to find it out before someone else joins the choir invisible.”

“Point,” Kennrick said heavily. “Any idea where Witherspoon might be?”

I looked at Bayta. “His seat is two cars back from Ms. German’s,” she said. “I don’t know it he’s there, though.”

“But there are only fifteen third-class cars,” I added helpfully. “He has to be there somewhere.”

“Thanks,” Kennrick growled. “If and when I find him, where will you be?”

“In my bed.” I said, yawning widely. “I’m still way too short on sleep.”

“I know the feeling,” Kennrick said. “Talk to you later.” With a nod at Bayta, he left the dining area and headed toward the rear of the train.

“Do you want me to see if the Spiders can locate Dr. Witherspoon?” Bayta asked.

“Even if they could, I’d just as soon have Kennrick wander around on his own for awhile.” I said. “I know he’s worried about his precious contract team, but I don’t especially like having him underfoot. How’s the disassembly of the air filter system going?”

“Slowly,” Bayta said. “I don’t think one of these has ever been taken apart while the train was in motion, and the mites are having to figure it out as they go. Do you think Ms. German is the killer?”

“My first impression is no,” I said. “But I’m not ready to write anyone off the suspect list quite yet. She’s certainly had enough access to the victims over the past two weeks. And she’s definitely hiding something.”

Bayta looked at the archway. “Do you suppose she could be running away from home?”

“Jumping a Quadrail is a pretty pricey way of escaping Mom and Dad,” I reminded her. “On the other hand, without access to the Spiders’ station-based records, there’s no way to know the circumstances of her coming aboard.”

“No, there’s not,” Bayta murmured thoughtfully. “Do you suppose that’s why the killer chose a cross-galactic express? So that we wouldn’t be able to get anyone’s records?”

“Could be,” I said. “Or so we wouldn’t be able to call for help, get quick and complete autopsies, or get out of his line of fire. Pick one.”

Bayta shivered. “You think he’s planning more killings, then?”

“I would hope that two dead bodies would be enough for anyone,” I said soberly. “But I wouldn’t bet the rent money on it.”

“No.” She took a deep breath, and for just a moment her mask dropped away to reveal something tired and anxious. It was a side of her that I didn’t see very often, and there was something about it that made me want to take her hand and tell her, don’t worry, it’ll be all right.

But I didn’t. I didn’t dare. Among his other tricks, the Modhri employed something called thought viruses, suggestions that could be sent telepathically from a walker to an uninfected person. In one of the lowest ironies of this whole miserable business, thought viruses traveled best along the lines of trust between friends, close colleagues, or lovers.

Which meant that once the Modhri had established a colony in one person, the walker’s entire circle of friends was usually soon to follow, lemming-like, in the act of touching some Modhran coral and starting their own Modhran polyp colonies. The Modhri had used that technique to infiltrate business centers, industrial directorates, counterintelligence squads, and even whole governments.

Bayta and I were close. We had to be, working and fighting alongside each other the way we were. But at the same time, we had to struggle to maintain as much emotional distance between us as we possibly could. Otherwise, if the Modhri ever got to one of us, he would inevitably get the other one, too.

Bayta knew that as well as I did. The moment of vulnerability passed, her mask came back up, and I once again forced my protective male instincts into the background. “So what’s our next move?” she asked.

“Exactly what I told Kennrick.” I yawned again. “I’m going to get some sleep. You coming?”

“I think I’ll wander around a little longer,” she said. “Maybe go watch the air system disassembly. I don’t think I could sleep just now.”

I eyed her, that brief flicker of vulnerability coming back to mind. But her professional self was back in charge, cool and confident and competent.

And it wasn’t like she would be alone out here. Not with hundreds of people milling around and other hundreds of Spiders watching her every move. “Okay,” I said, pushing myself off the bar stool. “Just be careful. And let me know if anything happens.”