“We’ll hear each other with these. Word of warning: If I’m in your ear while you’re in conversation with someone else, play it cool. I’ve seen newbs struggle with these at first.”

  Connor pushed the bead into his ear.

  “Bruv. Please. I’m all over it. You may not know this about me, but I’m a brilliant actor. I could star in popvids.”

  He sounded sincere, to which Trevor shook his head and pointed to the door.

  “You do know popvids are outlawed on seven planets?”

  “Yeah, but that leaves a big market. I have every attribute the producers want.”

  Trevor stopped in the open doorway.

  “This nudity phase of yours ... you didn’t get it from the Loutah. Did you?”

  Connor’s cheeks likely reddened beneath that makeup.

  “I compiled a healthy library, bruv. Share a watch sometime. The Inuits? They’re the best.”

  “OK. That’s more than I needed to know. We’re going to walk to Raison. Put the popvids out of your mind and pay attention, C. I need this plan to work.”

  Connor saluted.

  “I’m your Second. Nothing comes before the plan.”

  Technically, Connor became a de facto employee of Haven Sec Admin. Trevor executed a little-known and never used clause inside the Amity Charter to deputize his brother. He doubted Central would buy Trevor’s action as properly pursuant to the Emergency Declaration exemption, but he’d deal with their ruling on another day. If this plan went awry, they’d fire Trevor for using a civilian in a law enforcement capacity. Clause 26-G gave him cover.

  Heading down the lift, Connor said:

  “I feel incomplete without a pistol and a bar, bruv.”

  “Sorry. I’d have to justify the acquisition to Dorrit. Be happy with the field appointment. If the pieces fall into place, my pistol will be enough. We don’t want laser bolts set loose inside a nightclub.”

  “No argument on that score, but I’m a good shot. I went through all the training. Remember?”

  And walked away from a steady career.

  “Ten years ago, C. That’s a lot of rust.”

  To which Connor snorted.

  “Bruv, they’re aim and press. Anyone can learn in ten seconds.”

  “Which is why they’re restricted to security personnel.”

  “I hear most planets have open carry laws. Not just for pistols. Blast rifles, too.”

  The lift mercifully opened.

  “Thank you, C. I’ll be sure to bring that before Central at our next roundtable discussion of how we increase the crime rate on Amity.”

  He suspected Connor used the banter to mask anxiety about tonight. Even before Trevor explained his theory about Ulbrecht’s death and the connection to Black Star, Connor had to know he wouldn’t have been deputized unless the stakes were high.

  Trevor considered teaming with Hoshi for about ten seconds, but the Second Deputy played too close to the regs for this operation. He needed a fearless partner who’d approach any stranger and play a role. Moreover, if matters went sideways, Hoshi’s record would remain clean. Before he checked out for the day, Trevor briefed Hoshi on his interview at Halifax.

  “It’s not conclusive, but I think we’re on the right track,” he said, glancing at her search results of newer Amity residents.

  His narrow parameters for unmasking the minder produced three hundred names. Hoshi had yet to find connections to Ulbrecht.

  “Finish this for homework, and we’ll sit down with it tomorrow morning. After that, I’ll lay out the case to Dorrit.”

  She couldn’t mask her disappointment.

  “This might take hours, Trev. I was hoping maybe we could work on it over a light dinner.”

  Subtlety was not her thing, apparently. Trevor allowed for the occasional white lie, even to colleagues.

  “I arranged a call with my little girl in about an hour. I haven’t had quality time with her since she returned home. So sorry.”

  “No worries. Family comes first. My brothers DS’d me a few days ago, and we went on for hours. They pooled their creds to afford the call. But we had the best time.”

  “How many?”

  Her disappointment morphed into a wistful buoyance.

  “Six. All younger. They surprised me. And the things they talk about ... you have to know my brothers.”

  “I’m sure they’re proud of their big sister. You miss home?”

  “I feel like I never left. If it happened in Puratoon in the past year, my brothers passed it on.”

  That seemed like a fine note to leave things. He didn’t want to hear insider reports from a backwater on Hokkaido. Trevor promised the Chief a full presentation by H2. Yes, he added, we’ll have enough to update Central.

  If this gambit failed ...

  The Stallion brothers earned many bemused stares on their way out. Actually, the glimmering man to Trevor’s right drew most of the attention. Even at his most outrageous, Connor cut an astonishing figure. His broad shoulders and rock hard pectorals combined with a swagger that told onlookers who possessed the superior genes. Connor acknowledged everyone with a wink.

  “You can’t get enough of it, C.”

  “People appreciate beauty and art, bruv.”

  “Yes. And as long as they’re looking at you, they don’t give ten hells about me. I’ll take it.”

  When they stepped onto the Swiftrak, Trevor told Connor to ignore public adulation and focus on the mission. Walking at a steady but unhurried pace, he rehashed the plan’s details. Connor never broke stride.

  “We’ll need the breaks to slide our way, Trev. Gotta have proof to score a win.”

  Therein laid the crux of the problem.

  “There’s an easy way and a hard way to do this. Easy: We unmask the minder tonight. We bring them all in. At least one will confess. Those five students are on edge. If the minder killed Ulbrecht ...”

  Connor got the picture but also raised his voice.

  “The others will have to wonder if they’re next.”

  “Bring it down a decibel, C. We’re in public.”

  “Sorry.”

  “At first, I thought they lied about not partying with Ulbrecht. No. They came because the minder demanded it. If they show, it’s because they weren’t given a choice.”

  Connor nodded.

  “It’s not a bad arrangement, actually. Raison lets people lose themselves. They use the Recon tubes for disguises. On the prime floor, it’s all about the music and the dance. Bodies smashing into each other, and you don’t care who. People disappear into the Spin Rooms. Every kind of fun you can think of. Had my share of sweet adventure. Yeah, bruv. Meeting there makes sense.”

  The frequency of previous mentee visits predicted at least three of the five students would be there tonight. They always arrived fifteen to thirty minutes after H11.

  “I’ve only been in Raison one time,” Trevor said. “A year before I met Effie. You invited me. Remember?”

  Connor frowned. “Really?”

  “Yep. Although I more or less dragged you out a few hours later. You weren’t cogent.”

  “Shit. Must have hung one on.”

  “More like three, four, or ten. At any rate, you know the place as well as anyone. Don’t lose yourself in there. Or me. Got it?”

  “I’m your man. Um, you mentioned before about an easy way and a hard way to do this. What’s the hard way?”

  Before Trevor laid out his backup plan, a human flew above him, legs flailing. He screamed for those ahead to clear a path.

  The teenager landed with a thud, rolled over twice, and continued running. He ignored the curses from those close by.

  “Leaper,” Connor said. “Good thing you’re not in uniform. You’d have to chase the little asshole.”

  Instinct told him to chase anyway. Common sense won out.

  “I thought this only happened during off-shift hours. That’s what my Second told me yesterday.”

  “They don’t care. I hate Natives. Entitled little monsters.”

  “Huh. And you were any better at their age?”

  Connor conceded the point through a pregnant pause.

  “So, about the hard way?”

  “Yeah. It starts with me being wrong tonight. I regroup tomorrow, present my theory, hope Dorrit buys it and allows me to bring in the students for questioning. That won’t be easy. Maynor will fight it. We’ll have to do an end-run on the Charter. And frankly, it might put these students in real danger if their benefactors think they’ll break. Otherwise, we’ll have to follow the UCVs. There are no guarantees it will prove anything.”

  Connor wrapped an arm around his brother.

  “Remember how you laid into me when I decided not to join Sec Admin?”

  “Yep. Wasn’t my finest hour.”

  “Truth is, I wanted to say yes, but I wasn’t cut out for it. You knew it, too; just weren’t willing to admit it. You’re good at this job, bruv. The best. I wish we’d been able to work together. So happy you’re trusting me tonight. Don’t worry. We’ll find this bastard and solve your case. The Stallion brothers will do it the easy way.”

  As with many of Connor’s declarations, that sounded like a candidate for famous last words. It did not lessen Trevor’s unease.

  Trevor opened his pom to search files transferred from his wrist plate, which remained hidden beneath his jacket. The plate would give him away. He expanded a small holo with the mentees’ glyphs.

  “Have you committed them to memory?”

  “You only gave me an hour heads-up.” Connor laughed. “Of course, T. If I spot one, you’ll know in a flash.”

  To Trevor’s disappointment, none of the five matched the students Connor had seen fighting on the Halifax loading dock. That lead had always been a longshot, but Trevor needed some luck, and soon. After all, no one counted on him to solve the case – just Chief Dorrit, Central Administration, SI, and President Haas.

  No one at all.

  “They’re on your pom,” he told Connor. “If there’s any doubt, check the glyphs first. Understood?”

  “No worries, Trev-or. I might be a rookie, but I’m no moron.”

  That proposition was about to be tested.

  They arrived at Raison five minutes later.

  28

  THE CLUB INTRODUCED ITSELF with a genteel aura. The Paradise Lounge cast dim blue lighting from translucent ceiling panels. Several dozen tables and booths, each lit by a spectral glow lamp, slowly revolved around the bar, where crowds ordered their beverages from kiosks. Drones with delicate mechanical tentacles poured and mixed drinks faster than human bartenders.

  “Slow for now,” Connor said, pointing out the half-empty tables. “Give it an hour, bruv. They’ll line up three deep for drinks.”

  Trevor studied the layout. He wanted the best vantage for watching the entrance, but the revolving floor created a strategic problem. He pointed out an empty booth on the periphery.

  “We’ll start there.”

  Connor shrugged.

  “You’re the boss. What’s your flavor?”

  “Not here to drink. Have to keep a clear head.”

  “Everybody drinks in Raison. You’ll look like an ass. Plus, there’s a forty-cred top charge.”

  Shit. He could think of a hundred better ways to spend forty credits, but he already lost the money when he tapped the entry’s LinkPass sensor. Yet Connor hit the mark on a different count: No drink in hand meant he’d stand out.

  “Yeah. Sure. Order me a white wine.”

  Connor glared at Trevor as if he’d been scandalized.

  “Bruv, you’re a Chancellor. You can do better. They got drinks from all forty planets.”

  He might have visited Raison only once before, but Trevor knew their game: Sauce up the patrons before sending them onto the dance halls, the drifting opera, and the Spin Rooms, where they’d spend hundreds more credits. Though the lounge was subdued – soft instrumentals blended with the crowd’s banter and clinking glasses – the faint rumble from the primary dance floor’s industrial music was unmistakable. Connor pressed him again to order a stronger drink.

  “No surprises, C. Got it?”

  He fully expected to be surprised.

  “Damn, Trev. You used to be a creature of the night.”

  “Then I grew up. I’ll be waiting in that booth.”

  Trevor settled in and watched Connor activate his social butterfly drive. Rather than ordering drinks, he accosted familiar faces at the bar. They exchanged pleasantries which Trevor endured through the ear bead.

  For a moment, he took his eyes off the shimmering Stallion at the bar to study other patrons. Most belonged to the younger set, and their costumes were louder than Trevor’s, lessening his discomfort. He saw a few couples with romantic notions, but most were clearly friends or colleagues unleashing the pent-up tension after a workday in Amity. A few wore flippers to hide their eyes, and a couple had already dipped into the Recon tubes, judging from their animal skins and face paint. The dress trend for most: Short, low-cut, loose-fitting – perfect for the physical requirements of drifting opera.

  Opposite to the double-wide entrance, six labeled doorways with LinkPass sensors led into serpentine corridors connecting Paradise Lounge to Raison’s most popular attractions. There were too many doors for Trevor’s comfort. If the mentees and their minder met further inside the club, would he lose track?

  Trevor made sure he drew no one’s attention before dipping his left arm beneath the table. He pulled back his jacket sleeve and tapped the wrist plate without being conspicuous. He activated a live status update on the mentees’ LinkPass profiles. The tiny holo was a viable tracking mechanism, but also a blatant violation of the Charter, which allowed its use only to pursue a criminal or aid someone suffering a health emergency.

  It also screamed, “Sec Admin on the case!” to any who saw the plate in action. Blown cover would not be helpful.

  None had arrived at the club early, but three students were on the move. Two checked out rifters, while another exited the train at Mogandi Station. The others? They could’ve been walking. Hard to say. There were no access points along the Swiftraks.

  “Assuming all five received the same orders,” he muttered.

  “What’s that, bruv?”

  Trevor forgot about the ear bead. He pulled down his sleeve.

  “Nothing, C. How are those drinks coming?”

  “On their way.”

  Along with company, as it turned out.

  Connor was shocked to discover his coworker Jeon at the club. As those two bantered by the bar, Trevor made a connection: This man taught Connor the Loutah.

  Ridiculous timing, but it didn’t stop Connor from inviting Jeon to the Stallions’ booth. Trevor cursed then added:

  “No, C. Make an excuse. Send him on his way.”

  Connor did not reply.

  “Sure he won’t mind?” Jeon was heard to say. “I am not one to intrude on family time.”

  Connor scoffed. “My big bruv loves to make friends. He has a wife and kid. Doesn’t get out much.”

  Connor’s facial sparkles glistened in the passing glow of spectral lamps en route to the booth. He carried a tall drink in each hand. His EngSec9 coworker followed.

  Trevor sighed. I made a terrible mistake.

  As they approached, Trevor slid to the corner of the booth, giving him the best perspective on the entrance. He hoped Connor would have the foresight to slide in from the opposite side.

  No such luck.

  Connor handed Trevor a tall, thin glass with a dark liquor. Was it purple? What was the brown foam on top? Cudfrucker!

  “Slide in, bruv. Got a friend I want you to meet. Best man I know not named Stallion.”

  Trevor forced a muted grin and complied.

  “This is Jeon Phee. He’s my mate from work. I wouldn’t be at peace if he didn’t show me the path.”

  Trevor nodded but did not extend his hand.

  “Ah. Yes. Connor mentioned you. The Loutah, right? You’re from the Shailin tribe on Indonesia Prime?”

  Jeon, about Connor’s age, dipped his chin in confirmation. He bore a semblance to Headmaster Bien Thet and student Ashraf Diep, both of whom hailed from the same world.

  “Your brother spoke of me? How good of you to remember.”

  “Connor seems to think the Loutah has changed his life.” Before Jeon replied, Trevor held up the purple liquor. “C, I recall asking for white wine. What is this?”

  “A real drink, T.” He nudged Jeon. “Tell him.”

  Jeon shook his head, as if to say Connor had been naughty.

  “Trevor, it’s a drink from my world. In our ancient tongue, it’s called M’juhti. Today, most people know it as horse nip.”

  This mission got better by the moment.

  “Should I even ask?”

  “Yeah, you better,” Connor said, chuckling.

  “Not to worry,” Jeon said. “It’s a refreshing beverage, fermented from wild henberries. It’s believed the berries drive horses mad with extreme sexual appetite. Or so the legend goes.”

  “You’ll love it,” Connor added. “Aftertaste lingers, but it’ll make you feel ten years younger.”

  “Great. Horse nip. Debited to your account. Yes?”

  “My treat, bruv.”

  Connor raised his glass, as did Jeon. Trevor hated being boxed into a corner, so he played along.

  “Full hearts,” Connor said.

  Glasses clanked and Trevor sipped.

  He wiped foam from his lips and stifled a laugh. Fermented henberries, my ass. It tasted like forty proof grape juice.

  “Whatcha think, T? Great, huh?”

  “Good thing I’m not a horse. It will do.” Shifting eyes between the entrance and the guest, Trevor added: “Popular in your tribe?”

  Jeon reared back.

  “No, not at all. Most Shailin reject fermented beverages.”

  “You’re different?”

  “I have learned to adapt since I came to Amity. There are only two other Shailin on the station, and they live in Harmony. I never see them.”

  Connor leaned into Trevor like he was about to deliver a secret.

  “You two have something in common. This is also Jeon’s second visit to Raison. Ask him why.”