Part 42 (1/2)
”It's a liquid mix of...”-Flerring paused-”Well, I'm not gonna give out trade secrets.”
”I understand,” Adamat said sympathetically. ”What can you tell me without giving up too much? Does it explode similarly to gunpowder?”
”It's a high-velocity explosive. Far more destructive than gunpowder. It doesn't take much, either. A gla.s.s ball or tube of the stuff no bigger than my stub here”-Flerring wagged one arm-”is enough to crack stone. We planned on revolutionizing the mining industry with it. Just didn't work out in the end.”
It didn't take an inspector to see an awfully significant gap between ”going to make us rich” and ”didn't work out.” ”What happened?” Adamat asked.
”We had a chemist named Borin on our payroll,” Flerring said. ”Nice lad, very smart. I'd thought about trying to marry him to Little here.”
Little Flerring made a face as she handed her father a winegla.s.s. ”That wouldn't have happened, Dad, and you know it.”
”Thought about it, is all I said, hon.” He hooked the winegla.s.s deftly and took a sip. ”Anyway, Borin came up with the blasting-oil recipe about two years ago. Spent every waking moment since working to stabilize it. It was too volatile, you see. Killed two of our mixers in an accident early on. It explodes by shock rather than by flame, which makes it d.a.m.n near impossible to transport.”
Shock. Now that was an interesting tidbit. Adamat thought about his theory that the explosives had been thrown into Ricard's headquarters. ”So you haven't sold any?”
”Of course not! You think I'm in the business of blowing up my customers? I've learned my lesson with explosives.” Flerring gestured to his scarred face with the metal paddle fixed to his left hand. ”That's why we fired Borin, actually. He wanted to see the blasting oil put to practical use, so he sold a couple samples to a mining company.”
”So he did sell it!”
”Yeah. Little found out, and we agreed we couldn't trust him anymore. We drew up a contract that let us keep a percentage of the profits if he wound up selling the formula to another company and we parted on good terms. That was only about two weeks ago.”
Adamat was on the edge of his seat now. He had something solid. Someplace to take this investigation. If Borin still had his formula and had sold it to Ricard's attempted murderers, he could track them down. ”Can you point me to him? I need to speak with Borin.”
Flerring exchanged a glance with his daughter. ”He's over there,” he said, waving his hook vaguely to his right. ”And over there. And there.”
Little Flerring chuckled in an exasperated manner. ”That's unkind, Dad.”
”Look, I tell all my mixers and chemists that if they blow themselves up, it's their own d.a.m.n fault.”
”Don't make sport out of the dead, Dad.”
Adamat felt his heart fall. ”Borin's dead?”
”Very. About as dead as a man can be this side of angering a Privileged. Best as we can guess, he was packing up his samples of blasting oil and dropped one at his foot. You might have seen that grease spot over by the river on your way in?”
”Yes.”
”That used to be a very st.u.r.dy stone building. It's where our chemists worked. That building was built to survive any size explosion. It could have lasted through an artillery bombardment. Took out Borin and all of our ongoing experiments. There weren't even pieces of Borin left after that, and we're still finding bits of stone everywhere we walk.”
Adamat leaned back in his seat and let out a sigh. ”I'm sorry for your loss.”
Flerring shrugged. ”It set us back, but our people keep good notes. It destroyed every bit of the blasting oil we had left, which I think is a d.a.m.ned blessing.”
”Dad...”
”Don't you 'Dad' me.” Flerring shook his head at his daughter and turned to Adamat. ”I've put a stop to all research on the blasting oil. Burned all but one copy of the notes, and only I know where the last copy is. Infernal stuff isn't going to get us all killed while I'm still alive. Once I'm dead, my girl here is welcome to blow herself up as quick as she wants. But not before that.”
A dead end. Dead as Borin. There was no way to know if Flerring was telling the truth about any of this without the chemist to corroborate. Maybe Flerring killed Borin to cover his tracks. Adamat could bring in a dozen officers and tear the place apart, but that was the last thing he had time for. And SouSmith might not forgive him.
”Do you happen to know who Borin sold the stuff to?”
Flerring scratched his head with his hook. ”A mining company. Do you know, hon?”
”There's a receipt somewhere,” Little Flerring said. ”I'll see if I can find it.”
She disappeared for a few minutes, during which time Flerring and SouSmith talked about their boxing days. Adamat couldn't help but be amazed at how vigorous the boxer-turned-powder-maker was, despite his injuries.
His daughter returned holding a sc.r.a.p of paper and handed it to Adamat. ”The Underhill Mining Coalition,” she said.
Adamat paused as he reached for the paper and let his hand fall. ”You sure?”
”Yes.”
”I'll remember it, thank you.”
Little Flerring shrugged and put the paper in her pocket.
”This mining company. You didn't happen to meet their representative, did you?” Adamat felt his heart begin to race.
”No. Borin did business with them behind our back. We wouldn't have agreed to the sale otherwise.”
”Did Borin happen to tell you why they needed it?”
”They were looking for high-powered explosives,” Little Flerring said as if it were obvious.
This wasn't helping at all. ”But did they come to him or did he go to them?”
”Oh. They came to him.”
”That's all we need to know. Thank you,” Adamat said, getting to his feet. ”I think it's time we go. I appreciate your help a great deal.”
”Didn't think we were much help,” Little Flerring said. ”If you track down the samples Borin sold, let me know. I'd prefer they were destroyed.”
”You were a great deal of help. And don't worry, I'll tell you.” Adamat shook hands with Little Flerring, then tentatively grasped the Fist's offered hook. A few minutes later and he and SouSmith were back in their carriage headed toward Adopest.
”Good to see him,” SouSmith rumbled.
Adamat barely heard him, deep in thought. ”Yes, I'm sure.”
”Been a long time. Girl's grown up.”
”Oh? You thinking of settling down, SouSmith?”
SouSmith chuckled. ”Too young for me.” He paused. Then, ”Why such a hurry?”
Adamat drummed his fingers on the head of his cane excitedly. ”Because the Underhill Mining Coalition isn't a mining company,” he said.
”Don't follow.”
”They're a club. A group of thieves and smugglers who call themselves businessmen. They meet to drink and play cards at an exclusive-and hidden-location in Adopest. Most people know them as the Underhill Society and I happen to be friends with one of their members.”