Part 14 (1/2)
The bar was divided into several sections. Patrons called the very back the quiet section because it catered to the people who wanted a little relaxation on their lunch hour. A small brownie, an hour or so at the booth while they ate and did some work, and then they'd leave. The other sections focused on groups-parties of two or three had one room, and a newer room had just opened for groups that wanted to add alcohol to the brownie mix.
Flint didn't eat the brownies when he came here, preferring to sit by himself in the back, enjoy the spectacular food, and use the public access screen built into the table. At the Brownie Bar, no log-in ident.i.ty was needed, so Flint could work here on some of the more sensitive stuff.
At the moment, he was trying to understand the M'Kri Tribesmen. Their arguments in the Multicultural Tribunal had seemed filtered to him, and as a result, almost impossible to follow. What he had learned, however, was that the richness of their land had been a closely guarded secret.
He wasn't even certain the Tribesmen had understood the mineral wealth of the soil they had inherited. The various M'Kri cultures had never surveyed the land, and according to at least one witness in front of the Tribunal, no outsiders (read: no aliens) were allowed with a hundred kilometers of the Tribesmen's land.
If that were the case, how did Jrgen's company even learn of the minerals? How did the negotiations with the Tribesmen happen? And where did they happen?
None of those questions appeared to have been asked at the hearings, and none of those questions were answered in any of the doc.u.mentation.
The more he dug into this case, the stranger it got.
He also spent some time researching Jrgen. He looked up Lagrima as a name, and came up with a very short list. Hardly anyone in any database named a child Lagrima-at least in modern times. It had been a somewhat more common name on Earth two centuries earlier-a lot of s.p.a.ce travelers and adventurers were named Lagrima.
He would have to research them, but not here. Too much research on a single topic called attention to the place and material researched. The history of the owners of the name Lagrima would have to wait until he went back to the university. There, no one would take much notice.
The screen blanked, and he finished his soup. He wasn't quite full. He would order some of the Brownie Bar's fresh bread-the bar's baked goods (even without the herbal additive) were excellent.
With a touch of his finger to the edge of the screen, he summoned the waitress. Because the Brownie Bar specialized in drugs, it preferred human waitresses to keep an eye on the patrons. Flint liked the personal touch, even if it meant the waitress would occasionally ask about his work.
He kept the screen blank while he waited for her. When she did arrive, she was in a hurry, and didn't even look at the table as she took his order. She got his coffee first, telling him that the bread would be a few minutes, since some fresh loaves were just coming out of the oven.
Flint wrapped his hand around the coffee mug and leaned back in his chair, mentally reviewing the rest of the research that he had planned to do this day. Looking up the name Jrgen, after looking up Lagrima, might be a flag. He was better off doing more work on the M'Kri, and seeing if someone somewhere had done surveys that hadn't made it into the official records.
The waitress hurried back with a plate covered with bread and specialty cheeses. He hadn't ordered the cheeses, but he sometimes knew the bar tried new foods, just to see if patrons would enjoy them. He'd been the beneficiary of the bar's generosity a number of times.
He let the bread steam to one side as he pressed the screen. He was about to log in and state his question, when someone put a hand on his shoulder.
He looked up to see Ki Bowles smiling at him.
”I thought that was you,” she said.
He did not smile back.
”I decided to say h.e.l.lo. We're heading to one of the private rooms, and I didn't think you'd see me.”
It wouldn't have been a great loss. Flint darkened the screen with the touch of a finger. ”We?”
She swept a hand toward the door to the quiet room. An amazingly short, slim man hovered near the opening. It took Flint a moment to recognize him.
That was DeRicci's old partner, Leif van der Ketting. Van der Ketting had been Flint's successor. Van der Ketting remained a detective after DeRicci's promotion. Whenever anyone discussed the Moon Marathon and the near disaster at the dome, they talked about DeRicci. No one mentioned her partner and his heroics that day.
”Still trying to see how dirty your hands can get?” Flint asked.
Bowles shrugged a single shoulder. ”Your old partner is a fascinating woman.”
”So are you,” Flint said. ”You might want to be careful. It looks like fascinating women are targets for on-the-make reporters.”
She flushed. 'That was uncalled for.”
”No, it wasn't,” Flint said. ”I saw your latest piece on Noelle. It was filled with innuendo and suggestion, no real research at all. I thought you were an investigative reporter, Ki.”
”I am. I'm investigating.”
”Then you lack ethics,” Flint said. ”A real reporter would wait until she had the entire story before going public with any of it.”
”A Retrieval Artist has no right to lecture me about ethics,” Bowles snapped. ”Maybe I should investigate how you got so rich the day you left the force.”
”Go ahead,” Flint said, knowing that his tracks were covered.
The color had faded from Bowles' face. She had, apparently, recovered. ”I didn't come over here to fight with you. I came to say h.e.l.lo, tell you I'm still working on the story, and ask you to talk with me.”
”I've already said no. I'll continue to say no for the rest of my life,” Flint said.
Her lips twisted in an imitation smile. ”You're not the kind of man who changes his mind.”
”Obviously,” Flint said, even though it was a lie. If he were consistent, he'd still be a computer programmer, inventing new software, new systems, working as deep into the networks and machinery of Armstrong as a man could get.
”You'll be the only one of DeRicci's partners I will not have talked to.” Bowles said that as if it would convince him.
”Apparently, I'm the only one with a backbone.” Flint glanced past her at van der Ketting, who still hovered near the door.
The man looked even smaller than he had after the marathon. Flint wondered what kind of luck, what kind of career van der Ketting had had in the past two years.
”Why do you hate Noelle so much?” Flint asked.
”Why do you like her?” Bowles countered.
”Let me remind you that you cannot make a recording of any of our conversations. I will own InterDome Media if you do.”
”As a private citizen, I can record anything,” Bowles said. ”You know that.”
That was the first time she had come back with that response. It worried Flint.
”This conversation is over,” he said.
Bowles frowned at him. ”I'm not going to use anything without your permission.”
”You even use my likeness and I'll sue InterDome. Do you understand me, Ki?”
”No,” Bowles said, ”I don't understand you. You're completely unfathomable to me. But I do understand what you're telling me, and I won't use your likeness-unless you do something on the public record that happens to be newsworthy.”
He inhaled slowly and silently so that she couldn't see him holding back the angry response that had just tried to escape.
”The fact that I have come here for lunch is not newsworthy,” he said. ”Although I find it interesting you come to a drug bar for a professional meeting. Does van der Ketting have a problem? Or are you simply trying to loosen his tongue a little?”