Don’t feel that you’re alone in this. The others apes do it, too. Weak monkeys flatter the strong ones and receive protection in turn, until they can stab their former protectors in the back. Chimps, gorillas, humans … you all work alike. Ever watch a human primatologist cuddle up to a dominant silverback on the Ruwenzori slopes? Take a watchful stroll through any office and you’ll observe the same behavior. I can even demonstrate my thesis, right here and now.

Want a banana?

“How is the government interested?” Vyra was asking. Gemmel made a casual gesture. “What you’d expect. Offworld commerce is involved, so they’re sticking their nose in. So far we’ve convinced them to let us handle it ourselves, and they’ve gone along. They don’t want the publicity either. Bad for exports. But if one more shipment disappears without us or the local cops getting so much as a traceable retinal print out of it, they’re threatening to step in. That means no more operating in peace and quiet, out of the critical public eye.”

“What sort of cooperation can we expect from the local police?” Manz inquired.

“Full, but guarded. They’re watching their own butts. That’s only to be expected. If this gets out, they’re going to look as bad as we do. Of course, if that happens they’ll blame everything on our inadequate preparations and lack of internal security. If the media gets a whiff of this it’ll be every institution for themselves.

“Until then, and in hopes of forestalling it, they’re willing to extend us all the help we want so long as it doesn’t result in their exposure. I’ve got just one caveat from them.”

“Which is?” Moses prompted.

“If you two make a grab or level any accusations, you’d damn sure better have the evidence with which to back it up. A false-arrest charge will leave you looking for new occupations.”

“And not you,” Vyra murmured.

Gemmel favored her with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll naturally deny any involvement. You’ll have been doing the work on your own.”

A resigned Manz straightened in his seat. “Standard modus operandi. Why am I not surprised?”

“Don’t be so pessimistic. Stick these jackers, and you can have a month off. Two months. With pay.” Gemmel’s fingers were working against each other. “We really need to close this one down, people. Not only because of the financial and reputational damage to the Company, but because for every shipment that’s jacked, there are people offworld badly in need of those pharmaceuticals who suffer when they don’t arrive.”

“Yeah, that’s how I’ve always thought of the Company.” Manz speculated on the color of the ceiling. “Concerned and altruistic as hell.”

“The stolen goods don’t vanish into some black hole. The people who need the drugs will get them off the local black market,” Vyra pointed out.

“That’s true enough, but indelicate of you to mention.” Gemmel’s voice grew brisk. “Our concern is to prevent that from happening. To assuage the concerns of valued customers.”

“To save our butts,” declared Moses crisply. “Pity I don’t have one.”

Humor. The human treatment for insanity. Sort of a psycho-topical salve. Mechanicals aren’t in need of it. But it’s part of his programming. Me, I consider it an acquired taste.

“I take it you’d like for us to leave soonest?” Manz worked to conceal his displeasure.

“Yesterday, if not for paradox. That a problem for you? The wife and six kids going to give you trouble?”

Manz looked wounded. “I have fish.”

“Grandma Pfalzgraf will look after them.” The executive’s gaze swerved to his other operative. “You?”

“Me Jane, him Tarzan. You evil hunter. Why would I want to hang around here? The humidity’s twice what I’m comfortable with.”

Gemmel’s fingers drummed on his desk. “I only tolerate your mutual insubordination because you’re both so good. Don’t make me out to be a liar.”

She rose and smoothed out the insignificant wrinkles in her snakeskin. It was like watching a flower bloom in time-lapse. “Why, Mr. Gemmel, I have no intention of making you out at all.”

He was forced to look away. Such was the kind of physical power she wielded; sometimes unconsciously, more often with knowledge (though rarely malice) aforethought.

“There are reservations in both your names for a trans-Gulf flight out this evening. You’ve got all afternoon to get ready. If you knew the pressure I was under from Up Top, you’d both thank me for my understanding and forbearance instead of trying to give me a hard time.”

Vyra genuflected elaborately. “Slavish offerings be unto you, Oh tobacco-snorting dispenser of largess.”

Manz was considerably less amused. “I’ve got tickets to the women’s Nairobi-Calcutta field hockey championships for tomorrow night. The world quarterfinals. An unmatched exhibition of feminine grace and athletic skill.”

Vyra’s lips twisted. “Nullshit, Broddy. You just like to watch pretty girls whack each other with long, heavy sticks.”

“Life is tough. That’s a ridiculous pastime anyway.” The exec’s grim expression cracked slightly. “Cricket, now. There’s a sport.”

Though he knew he was spitting blind, Manz tried one last time. “It won’t make any difference if we get to JeP tonight or tomorrow night.”

“It will to the Company. It will to me.”

The adjuster wasn’t mollified. “As my first notation in the official record of this investigation, I wish to observe formally and with malice that the Company’s timing sucks.”

“Duly noted,” said Gemmel brusquely. “An Inspector Hafas is supposed to meet your flight.”

Manz made a face. “I’ll be sure to send him your love.”

“Do that. You’ll find your hotel reservations on your flight chit. Try to watch your expense accounts. Braun-Ives isn’t made of money, you know.”

Vyra pursed her lower lip. “That’s funny. And all this time I thought it was.”

“Get out, get going, get to it. And get it done. Now leave me be. I have normal people to deal with.”

Out in the hallway Manz whispered to his lithe, tall companion. “That wasn’t very nice, what you said back in Gemmel’s office.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t. To what, specifically, do you refer?”

“Saying that I only enjoyed women’s field hockey because I like seeing girls smack each other.”

“I’m sorry, Broddy. I know you’re not like that.”

“Apology accepted.”

“I know that’s probably not your only reason.” She smiled sweetly.

Moses trailed discreetly behind. He was watching his owner’s new associate’s every move with heightened academic interest.

Except for the attempted hijacking, the flight out to JeP was uneventful. The young man who stepped out into the aisle had a wild look in his eyes and a dart pistol fashioned entirely of organic compounds in his hand. He waved it about with fine disregard for the safety of the passengers around him. For the most part, absorbed as they were in their individual vids or games, they ignored him.

The man thrust the mildly odiferous weapon into the face of the nearest cabin attendant, trying to focus on him while keeping a simultaneous eye on everyone else.

“See this gun? See it?”

“I can hardly avoid it, since you’re waving it right under my nose,” replied the steward with admirable aplomb.

“It fires hypos containing a powerful neurotoxin that kills in less than a minute. If you don’t want to die, take me forward! I have demands to put first to the pilot, then to others.”