“Given our history, Captain, I would’ve expected a simple courtesy.”
The train pulled into the station.
“You’re not wrong, Stallion. But my first obligation is to follow orders from Central Command. My second is to ensure the safety of civilian transportation. At present, both share my attention.”
Trevor flipped his pom toward the opening doors to confirm his link and destination.
“Are you still on track to leave at H18?”
“We are, assuming a successful test of the web. Our replacement will arrive at H1740.”
“Do you know the ship’s name and her Captain?”
“I’m not at liberty, but I’m sure proper introductions will follow after I hand over command.”
How soon? Yeah, that answer wouldn’t be forthcoming.
“Might I ask where you’ll be deployed next?”
“You may, but I’m not at liberty. If you don’t mind, Stallion, my slate is full today.”
“Please make a note to call my direct line before you jump away. A simple goodbye shouldn’t be difficult.”
Graygone allowed the silence to drag on before replying.
“Noted, Gov. Stallion. You’ll hear from me once more. Good day.”
The Captain cut the link.
Trevor heard ambivalence, distance, and impatience. Graygone used to accept Trevor’s calls with professional enthusiasm. They often dropped the honorifics. Today felt like first contact.
Next up: Last contact.
What did they gain by keeping Amity’s Governor at arm’s length?
I’m missing something, but what?
Trevor asked the question without success to Mogandi Station and while flying a rifter to Alhambra bloc. Only then did he shift his focus to Thomas Quinlan.
He passed a pair of deputies on Level 15 and met HVSA Chief Ramesh Suhl outside the flat.
“Any luck?”
“Sorry, Trev. We’re canvassing neighbors. They may be our best hope at this point.”
“Do you have your people working the secure cams?”
Ramesh nodded.
“I’ve got three back at the office reviewing footage from the vicinity, starting from when he returned home last night. We’ll expand the scope as needed. If we don’t see him leave the bloc, then he’s inside here somewhere.”
Don’t be so sure.
Residential blocs did not feature internal cams, per the Charter. Gene stamps and LinkPass security kept track of comings and goings. At least, they did before the phantom drill.
“Let’s go inside.”
At first glance, the flat resembled any other in Amity. Clean and tidy, no obvious evidence of a disturbance. Thomas made the bed with military precision, hung his clothes neatly in the closet, and arranged his toiletries from smallest to largest. Almost as if the place were staged for a tour.
A far cry from the Ulbrecht Hann scene, yet too pat.
Trevor returned to the kitchenette and pointed to the cabinets and drawers.
“Have you searched his things?”
“No, sir,” Ramesh said. “We haven’t established probable cause under Section 3C of the Charter.”
“I’m giving you permission to use 3C.”
Ramesh frowned. “You can do that as Governor?”
“I fired my Executive Board and expelled residents because of past associations. I’d say there’s not much I can’t do. Don’t worry, Ramesh. I’m your boss. Nothing will blow back on you.”
“Fair enough.”
“Start with scan drones.”
“Will do. What are we looking for?”
