TEMPEST

Slowly Benny became aware of the noise that had woken her.

The train was running smoothly, but there were raised and

exited voices in the corridor outside, interspersed with the

sound of running feet.

Muttering darkly, she hauled herself out of the tangle of

bedclothes, put on her robe, after some difficulty in finding the

armholes, and opened the door. The corridor was full of

confused figures, some dressed, others still in night clothes.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ she demanded, rubbing her eyes.

Nobody took any notice. She grabbed hold of the nearest

convenient arm, which belonged to a man who she vaguely

recalled from the night before as Terbery. He was as white as

a sheet.

‘What’s happening?’ she asked again, raising her voice

above the commotion.

‘Murder,’ he said simply. ‘There’s been a murder… and the

Drell Imnulate’s missing!’

T

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TEMPEST

Christopher Bulis

First published in Great Britain in 1998 by

Virgin Publishing Ltd

332 Ladbroke Grove

London W10 5AH

Copyright © Christopher Bulis 1998

The right of Christopher Bulis to be identified as the Author of this Work

has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and

Patents Act 1988.

Bernice Summerfield originally created by Paul Cornell

Cover illustration by Peter Elson

ISBN 0 426 20523 5

Typeset by Galleon Typesetting, Ipswich

Printed and bound in Great Britain by

Mackays of Chatham PLC

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real

persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade

or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the

publisher‟s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other

than that in which it is published and without a similar condition

including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

PROLOGUE

„My friends, followers in the Way of Drell, I bring you the

most wonderful news!‟

The red-robed priest‟s words caused a stir of surprise to

run through the thirty-odd figures who crowded the

chamber.

„We have received word, quite unofficially, about the First

Imnulate; that which was shaped by Drell‟s own hands. After

so many years the opportunity has finally come to restore it

to its rightful place!‟

There were gasps of delight from the congregation, and

several cries of: „Drell be praised! Drell be praised!‟

The tapestry-hung chamber walls were ringed with

pedestals on which sat statues representing life forms of all

shapes and sizes. The life-spirit Drell had identified was

universal and could inhabit any form or none, therefore his

followers believed all must be equally revered as its

temporary vessels. But the single pedestal behind the altar

was empty, as it was in every Drell Temple in the galaxy. It

echoed the same empty space on a far grander pedestal in

the Mother Temple on Karnor, where three thousand years

before a humble philosopher/priest had first formulated his

teachings.

„More than this,‟ the priest continued, after the excited

cries had diminished, „two members of our very own flock

have been chosen to play a part in the Imnulate‟s return. I

shall explain who and how in a moment. But please

remember; no word of this must pass beyond these walls.

Though it pains us to practise such secrecy, this information

cannot be allowed to reach the Kedd prematurely…‟

High up in the shadows of the chamber, unnoticed by the

celebrants, the needle-like tip of a spyeye protruded through

the wall hangings.

From the research station on the surface of its fifth moon the

cloud-banded globe of the gas giant Thaon filled twenty

degrees of sky - forty times the width of the moon as seen

from Earth. Like the moon, Thaon 5 was gravitationally

locked with one hemisphere forever facing towards its

massive primary. So the great globe perpetually hung low

over the rim of the crater in which the experimental station

nestled; passing through the cycle of its phases once every

twelve days as Thaon 5 completed another orbit.

Currently Thaon was half full, bathing the station in a

coppery light reflected from its cloud tops. Within its

darkened hemisphere the ephemeral glowing pinpoints of

monstrous; lightning storms could be seen. It was a

magnificent spectacle, but for the moment there was nobody

outside the base to admire it. The dish antennae of the

communications tower were still, and the airlocks protruding

from the cluster of regular dirt-covered mounds that

concealed the buried workshops and living quarter modules

were unused. The frantic round of checks and final

adjustments had been completed on schedule, and the

station staff were enjoying a few days‟ well-earned rest before

the project‟s financiers arrived to observe the proving flight.

The result of their efforts stood a little way out across the

level crater floor beside a mobile service gantry. It was an

unusually compact spacecraft, quite different by comparison

to the pair of standard shuttle landers that stood near by.

But then it was one of a kind: a very special craft indeed. On

its side was the name Kingfisher.

Then the stillness was broken.

An unlit and unmarked ship with a dull black non-

reflective hull rose over the crater rim and sped low across

the crater floor.

A turret mounted on its underside swivelled and pulsed

with silent flashes of fire. A cloud of dust and rock erupted at

the base of the station‟s communication mast. Light metal

struts twisted and buckled and in majestic slow-motion it

toppled to the ground. A second blaze of fire from the black

ship‟s turret blew a gaping hole in the side of one of the

base‟s shuttles, and a third blast tore the landing legs out

from under the other.

The black ship swung about in a tight arc and came into

land in a spray of dust beside the Kingfisher, standing

untouched by the destruction around it. Three spacesuited

figures leapt from the black ship‟s hatch and ran in bounding

low-gravity strides across to the Kingfisher’s gantry, mounted

rapidly and vanished through an airlock. The black ship

lilted off and circled the crater, gun turret trained on the

main station buildings. Two of the base crew, still snapping

tight the fastening of their suits, tumbled out of the mouth of

an airlock tunnel. The turret gun flashed again and the

ground exploded ten metres in front of them. When the pall

of dust had settled they had retreated and the outer door of

the lock was shut once more.

The Kingfisher’s drive tubes glowed into life. The ship

stirred and then rose smoothly on a pale blue column of fire.

In a couple of seconds it had cleared the gantry and was

accelerating rapidly, with the black ship in close attendance.

By the time the confused and frightened station crew

ventured cautiously outside once more, both craft were just

shrinking dots transiting the disc of Thaon and heading out

into the depths of space.

The air of expectancy around the gaming table of the Lucky

Strike Saloon was as intense as that in the Drell Temple, if

less reverential. The crowd of onlookers had swelled as the

pile of moneychips in the centre of the table grew.

„I match your hundred, Hailsey, and I‟ll throw in another

fifty to see you,‟ said a mine foreman, a regular patron.

Hal Hailsey, a newcomer to the Lucky Strike, looked at him

thoughtfully and then at the cards cupped in his own hand.

The silence deepened. Absently he brushed his flowing

moustache with a fingertip.

A blowzily attired woman on the edge of the crowd dropped

her glass, causing players and spectators alike to start and

glare at her in annoyance. She apologized in a slurred

mumble and shuffled unsteadily away from the table,

dabbing her lips haphazardly with a scrap of lace from her

garish evening bag. A robot „tender trundled over to clear up

the mess.

They returned their attention to the table to find Hailsey

now beaming at his fellow players. He alone had not been

disturbed by the distraction of the breaking glass, though of

course nobody had noticed that.

He laid down an impressive spread of court cards before

him. „My hand, I think,‟ he said softly.

Shortly afterwards, a much richer Hal Hailsey emerged

through the doors of the Lucky Strike‟s gaudy mock-

clapboard frontage and into what passed for the night air

under Anchorage Dome. A kilometre away to his right the

illuminations of Mainstreet ended at the metal and plastic

lattice wall of the dome rim. Through this could be seen the

lights of a thousand-tonne mining borer as it crested the

sharply curving horizon, gouging yet another mineral-rich

strip in Klondyke‟s rugged surface. Beyond it lay the cold

untwinkling stars of the outer system.

Hailsey took a circuitous route back to his modest lodgings,

just in case any of his card-playing acquaintances should

decide to recover their losses by unsporting means. Only

when he was safely inside his rooms did he slip off his jacket

and carefully remove the mechanism of the card holdout that

was strapped about his wrist.

He had just poured himself a drink when there was a quiet

rap on the door. After checking the peephole, he opened it to

admit the woman who had dropped her glass in the Lucky

Strike. Now, however, the alcoholic flush had magically

vanished from her cheeks along with her gaudy make-up.

She looked younger and her bearing was assured and steady.

„Fine timing, Lil,‟ he complimented her.

„Did you win the pot?‟ she asked, direct as ever.

„What do you think?‟ he grinned, pulling out a spray of

moneychips. Lil deftly removed her percentage and slipped

them into her bag.

„Stay for a drink?‟ Hailsey suggested hopefully.

She raised a warning eyebrow. „This arrangement is strictly

business only, remember?‟

He shrugged and smiled; it was a private game they had

played for a long time. „Can‟t blame a man for asking.‟

She grinned back. „As long as that‟s all you do.‟

As she turned to leave she glanced at the mailslot basket

on the back of the door. „Looks like you had a late delivery.‟

It was a slim package. Hailsey frowned when he saw the

label.

Jordan Tyne, c/o Hal Hailsey,

17C Fairbanks Row,

Anchorage Dome,

KLONDYKE

Jordan Tyne was not a name he wished to be associated

with that of Hailsey. The latter was an alias he had adopted

for use on Klondyke, while the former was his real name

known only to an exclusive few. He tore open the envelope.

Instead of the expected data crystal there was a single-sheet

letter. His frown deepened as he read the message.

„Bad news?‟ Lil asked. Tyne scratched his jaw.

„I don‟t know. Could be a joke... or it might be a chance to

play in the big league. I‟ll have to check up on a few things

first.‟

„You‟ll cut me in if it‟s on the level?‟

„Uh, maybe. I don‟t know if there‟s a slot in it for you yet.‟

„Well, I‟m game.‟

„Lil, you‟re the best decoy in the business. If there‟s an

angle I‟ll call you. Promise.‟

After Lil had left, Tyne sat down at the room‟s battered

console and called up the spaceline schedules.

„When‟s the next flight due out for Tempest?‟ he enquired.

1

TEMPEST

The lecture room, with its small but select audience, was

dark save for the illuminated screen. On it a progressive

sequence of pictures showed a torch-lit crumbling stone-

walled passageway, lined with niches in which rested dust-

veiled statues. Bernice Summerfield, standing at a lectern

beside the screen, lowered her voice dramatically.

„Never before had I felt so close to Howard Carter when,

over six hundred years ago, he was about to break into

Tutankhamen‟s tomb at Luxor. He recorded in his diary how

his hands trembled as he made a small hole in the sealed

door, inserted a candle and peered in. At first the escaping

air that had been trapped within the tomb made the flame

flicker too much to see clearly, but then it settled down and

he began to make out the forms of statues and furnishings,

glittering with gold and semi-precious stones. They were the

funeral paraphernalia of an Egyptian boy-king who had died

over three thousand years earlier. It still remains one of the

most celebrated finds in the history of archaeology. But was

it now my turn to equal it?

„We had been excavating the ancient tunnel system under

Velopolis for weeks. Hundreds of metres above us was the

bustling modern city, built upon the ruins of much older

capitals where, so the legends said, its ancient kings had

been interred in the deepest catacombs with all their finery.

At last our work had opened a likely-looking tunnel, along

which we edged cautiously, installing roof braces as we went.‟

The next picture showed the tunnel closed by a wall of

bricks sealed by looped ropes set in a clay bar, on which was

impressed a crest and several lines of a strange script.

„The scanner indicated there was a cavity on the other side.

The message was written in the old Empire script, which

Hanriss translated as: BEYOND THIS WALL LIES TRAKIMON,

KING OF KINGS. RESTING IN ETERNAL SLEEP. It Was the

tomb of Velopolis‟s third king and, just as in Luxor all those

centuries before, its seal was still intact! I used the debonder

on a pencil beam to cut a small hole in the wall. Also as in

Luxor there was an outward rush of stale air so

characteristic of burial chambers: the last breath of the dead,

it‟s sometimes called. The finest perfume couldn‟t have smelt

as sweet, because it further suggested the chamber was still

untouched.

„We tried to pull the bricks free one by one, but they were

surprisingly firm. I adjusted the debonder to a deeper cut

and ran it around the wall in a man-sized circle. Still it didn‟t

budge. Hanriss tapped it curiously, thinking it might be

thicker than we had estimated, and the whole section fell

inward with a crash, almost taking us with it.

„Through the shower of dislodged dust I could just make

out a seated figure, half-lit by our torches shining through

the hole. Was this the first of a wonderful collection of funeral

goods: some sentry statue left to guard the tomb?

„Then it moved!

„It rose to its feet and shambled towards us menacingly.

“What the hell do you dumb chumkuks think you‟re doing?” it

bellowed. It was wearing a hard hat and coveralls and

holding a half-eaten ham sandwich. We‟d just broken into a

modern sewer service tunnel during lunch hour!‟

There was surprised pause, then a roar of laughter from

her audience. When it eventually abated, Bernice continued.

„Trakimon‟s burial chamber must have collapsed and filled

in naturally centuries before, leaving only the entrance

passageway intact. The more recent sewer had been

innocently cut right through it. Any remains had been

chewed up by a mechanical borer, while the spray-on tunnel

sealant and liner bonded the old bricks of the single

remaining wall together in the way we found them.

We‟ll never know what had been lost due to that piece of

careless civil engineering. But for a brief moment I had been

one with Carter; knowing what it felt like to have the glories

and wonders of a lost age almost in my grasp. And for that

experience alone it had been worthwhile. Thank you.‟

The applause was long and loud. Looks like you‟ve earned

your supper tonight, Bernice thought, bowing modestly.

From the diary of Professor Bernice Summerfield

Once in a while a planet gets the name it deserves.

Tempest orbits a mildly unstable flare star, turning on its

own axis in a little over twenty hours. It has lakes and

shallow seas but no climate-moderating oceans, and a

surface with so much topography that they have to stack half

of it vertically to fit it all in. The atmosphere is in what‟s

called a transitional stage; in other words a mess of both

carbon and sulphur dioxide, nitrogen, significant traces of

ammonia and methane, but with almost no free oxygen.

There are also several chains of highly active volcanoes along

tectonic fault zones, spewing out more gas and dust to add to

the planetary cocktail.

All this combines to make weather fit for a meteorologist‟s

nightmare: tornadoes, hurricanes, electrical storms, acid rain

monsoons and enough ionized layers in the atmosphere to

negate all electromagnetic communications over anything hut

the very short range. On Tempest even the next hour‟s

weather forecast is pretty much of a lottery, and the

atmosphere‟s so turbulent that the only places where a

spacer can set down in reasonable safety are the poles.

There‟s no air traffic. Here they don‟t tell you to go jump in a

lake if they want you to dispose of yourself, they say: „Go fly.‟

So who‟d want to live in such a place?

Well, when it was first surveyed about a hundred and fifty

years ago, they found that though there was no intelligent life

the unusual conditions had bred some diverse flora and

fauna that lived nowhere else, some of which could be put to

pharmacological use. A disease which had resisted all

previous drug treatments succumbed to an extract from a

Tempest fungi, and then suddenly the bio-industries got

interested. More fungi hunters and fanners began arriving,

and, in due course, some became embarrassingly rich.

And, as rich people do, they had to find some way of

passing the time in between counting their shillings. Various

clubs and societies sprouted like (ha ha) mushrooms, and

among them was the Carlsbad Archaeological Society. An odd

choice, you might think, considering Tempest has no

indigenous archaeology over a century and a half old. But I

suppose we all need hobbies, and apparently over the years

the CAS has done useful work: collecting specimens from half

the sector, organizing off-world expeditions - and on

occasions entertaining guest lecturers.

Yes, the fame of the holder of the Edward Watkinson Chair

of Archaeology at the St Oscar‟s U. of Dellah has even

reached Tempest!

Extract ends

The house was literally built halfway up a cliff.

It, and possibly the cliff as well for all Bernice knew,

belonged to Nathan Costermann, one of the CAS‟s founder

members and evidently unusually wealthy even by the

standards of Tempest‟s upper classes.

The dining table was of genuine imported Earth oak and

seated twenty guests. It was set on a broad stone terrace,

half of which was excavated out of the cliffside, while the

rest, in a demonstration of expensive engineering bravado,

cantilevered out over a five-hundred-metre sheer drop. The

semi-dome which protected the terrace from Tempest‟s

atmosphere was made of some crystal-clear plastic composite

that was virtually invisible, allowing an uninterrupted view

out over Thunder Canyon. Tempest‟s sudden night had

fallen, and the only illumination of its perpetual lower cloud

layer came from the lightning storm currently playing about

the jagged peaks on the opposite side of the valley. Blue-

white forks flickered across the land, while every few seconds

the boiling clouds above them were illuminated by a hidden

sheet of cold fire, starkly highlighting the whole valley.

The dome muted the sound to a faint murmur, hardly

rising above the discreet piped music and the even more

discreet human waiters (no roboservers for Costermann). But

the flashes kept catching Bernice‟s eyes like a fireworks

display with the volume turned down, and she wished

somebody would opacify the dome. But looking round the

faces about her nobody else seemed bothered. She was sure

that the whole terrace trembled slightly under the impact of

the intermittent hurricane-force gusts.

„Getting pretty wild out there,‟ she observed casually to

Preston Galloway, president of the Society and her official

escort for the dinner.

The normally amiable older man looked slightly surprised,

then replied a little stiffly, „Why yes, I suppose it is,

Professor,‟ then returned his attention quickly to his plate.

Bernice felt she had spoken out of turn. Was it bad form on

Tempest to acknowledge the power of the elements during

formal occasions? A shower of hailstones the size of golfballs

shattered against the dome in a furious cascade for half a

minute, then melted away again. The chattering voices

around the table had risen to compensate for the drumming

onslaught, then subsided naturally as it passed without

comment. The more I learn the more I realize I don‟t have to

look outside my own species to find behavioural quirks quite

as strange as those of any alien society, she thought. Then

she felt a sudden unaccountable flutter of anxiety within her.

What was the matter? Why should Tempest or its inhabitants

affect her differently from any of a hundred other worlds she

had visited? I he question niggled uneasily at the back of her

mind all through the meal.

Despite the external distractions the food was excellent,

and Bernice did it full justice. But once dinner was finished

and the party had broken up into smaller chattering groups

strolling about the terrace, her feeling of unease returned.

She thought wistfully of drinks in the college bar at St

Oscar‟s with a bunch of students, or a faculty dinner where

insults and even the occasional ballistic bread roll were

exchanged in a cheerful atmosphere of intellectual give and

take and deep professional jealousy. Here any such

undercurrents were on a different plane, leaving her

excluded. However, she was committed to seeing the thing

through, and so she nursed her drink and made polite

conversation, whilst secretly counting the minutes until she

could decently take her leave. Galloway was politeness itself

in his own way, but unfortunately no master of small talk.

„So... as I said. Professor. Most entertaining lectures.

Mostly entertaining.‟

„Thank you,‟ Bernice said for the tenth time.

„Actually...‟ he gave a little chuckle, „I must admit I had

some reservations about inviting you to Tempest. I had read

your book... er, Down Among the Dead Men. Fascinating

work, of course, but I wondered if it wasn‟t a trifle... er,

irreverent in parts. Beyond mere anecdote, I mean. We may

be amateurs in the CAS but we are very serious in our

pursuits, so you understand my doubts. However, it‟s all

worked out splendidly in the end, so I‟m glad I let myself be

persuaded otherwise.‟

Bernice wondered if he realized he was being patronizing.

Probably not. „Not half as glad as I am,‟ she said aloud,

thinking deliberately of the credit order now residing in her

account to give her words that ring of sincerity.

Then they were interrupted by a woman who had been

introduced when she arrived as Cynthia something-or-other -

Bernice couldn‟t recall exactly. Galloway left them alone,

perhaps grateful to relinquish the responsibility of

entertaining their guest. Very soon Bernice found herself

missing him.

„But my dear Professor,‟ Cynthia-something drawled

relentlessly, „as a woman how ever do you manage to survive

away from civilization for months on end on one of these dig

things of yours? I mean, I don‟t know what I‟d do if I couldn‟t

visit my body toner at least once a week.‟

Cynthia was cosmeticized, perfumed and coiffured down lo

the last follicle. Her diamond-beringed hands were

immaculately manicured, causing Bernice unconsciously to

hide her own worn nails and calloused palms and briefly

regret abandoning her aspirations to a more glamorous

image. Cynthia‟s designer gown probably cost fifty times the

price of the respectable little black dress Bernice was

wearing, besides being at least three seasons ahead of it.

How many generations was she removed from Tempest‟s

founding fathers, Bernice wondered, toying with the idea of

letting herself get falling down drunk and start singing one of

those amusing songs whose lyrics only came back to her at

such times. She decided reluctantly not to give in to the

temptation in case her hosts asked for their money back.

Instead she forced the muscles of her face into a smile and

leant slightly forward as though bestowing a confidence.

„Well, don‟t tell anybody else, but the university does

actually provide all its archaeological field teams with

complete mobile health spas hidden inside disguised all-

purpose burial mounds. We just pretend to rough it to get

more sponsorship money.‟

Cynthia blinked foolishly for a moment, then exclaimed,

„Oh, I say... that‟s priceless!‟

Her laugh, Bernice thought, resembled the lament of a

bereaved donkey.

Fortunately Nathan Costermann himself interrupted them

at that moment. „Will you excuse us for a few minutes,

Cynthia? There is a matter on which I‟d like Professor

Summerfield‟s professional opinion.‟

Bernice allowed herself to be led away through the small

planter jungle of exotic and very carefully tended shrubs that

tinged the terrace.

„Sorry about Cynthia,‟ Costermann said, when they were

out of earshot. „She can be tiresome at times.‟

„Thanks for rescuing me.‟

Costermann was a tall middle-aged man with greying hair,

but still appearing lean and fit. Ghost lines on his face told of

younger harder years in contrast to his present luxury. His

eyes were grey, sharp and very assured. She hadn‟t been

introduced to any partner, so she assumed he was

unattached. A hard man, Bernice guessed, but at least

something approaching a real person.

„Did you actually want my opinion about something, or was

that just a ruse?‟ she enquired lightly.

Costermann smiled. „More or less. I did want to tell you

how much I appreciated your most stimulating and

entertaining talks. I really am glad you came to Tempest.‟

Bernice sensed the genuine unreserved warmth of his

words. „Thanks. I‟m glad it‟s all gone so well.‟

They reached the balcony rail that ran just inside the

dome. Beyond it the lightning flickered and the wind howled.

„It‟s quite a view,‟ she observed. „But don‟t you feel a bit

exposed up here?‟

„On the contrary,‟ said Costermann, „I feel more secure here

than anywhere else. Solid rock behind me and an impassable

moat guarding all other approaches.‟ He smiled as he

gestured out at the storm-wracked valley.

„You‟d think this would put off all but the most masochistic

settlers,‟ Bernice said.

„Yet Tempest has a population of over thirty million, even if

they are scattered rather thinly,‟ Costermann said with a

trace of pride.

„Due to the attraction of your famous fungi and the chance

to get seriously rich. Where there is money to be made, there

follows man.‟

„An interesting phrase, Professor Summerfield. I must

remember it.‟

„It‟s copyright. I get ten per cent royalties on its use.‟

Costermann smiled. „Ah, you are learning how we do things

on Tempest. Well, why not? It‟s allowed me to build my -‟

„Dream castle in the clouds?‟

Costermann smiled. „That depends on the weather.

Fortunately my castle has very solid foundations.* He

stamped his foot hard to demonstrate the point.

Bernice winced, thinking of the drop under them. „Don‟t

you ever worry about all this coming loose or something?‟

„Not at all, Professor. I have every confidence in the

methods used to secure it.‟

„Rock bolts, strong glue, that sort of thing?‟

„Something more fundamental than that: money.‟

„Pardon?‟

„Never underestimate the power of money. If there should

be a major structural failure the builders would be ruined. It

would be worse if I was injured or died as a result of their

poor workmanship. I pay very efficient lawyers considerable

sums to ensure that would happen. The builders know that

and I know that, and so, because of money, I am certain they

have done a thorough job.‟

Bernice raised an eyebrow. „You‟re not exactly bashful

about being rich, are you?‟

„Of course not. I‟ve worked hard for what I‟ve got, so why

shouldn‟t I enjoy its benefits? Anybody who comes to

Tempest with enough guts and determination can do the

same. Twenty-five years ago I started out a grade-two

research chemist at Integrated Polymers. Now I own the

company. I used my brains to accumulate money, and used

that money to make more money. Its acquisition was a

measure of my success, and the respect paid me by those

who recognized it as such grew accordingly. There‟s nothing

to be ashamed of in being wealthy. It allows me to meet

fascinating people... such as yourself.‟

Bernice tried to look modest. „You flatter me.‟

„Perhaps you underrate your reputation.‟

„You‟re sure you don‟t mean dis reputation? I‟ve hardly had

a model academic career so far.‟

„But you came nevertheless.‟

„Your society‟s fee was most... uh, persuasive.‟

„Where there is money to be made there follows

Summerfield?‟ Costermann suggested.

„Mr Costermann, do you think I‟m completely mercenary?‟

Bernice retorted in mock dismay, then grinned. „You‟re right,

of course. It was the vacation and the home coffers were

running low, and so I thought: why not?‟ She sipped her

drink. „It will be a novel sensation to be solvent for a while.

I‟ve never collected sufficient filthy lucre to enjoy the sort of

leverage you evidently have. In any argument with the

builders I‟d have to fall back on trying to see their point of

view and using carefully reasoned argument. Then if that

failed I‟d try a knee in the groin.‟

Costermann chuckled. „Oh, physicality has its place as well

at times. It‟s just that I‟ve found money is the surest way to

achieve one‟s desires. But, talking of things of value,

Professor, would you be interested in viewing my own

collection of antiquities? It‟s not large, but I have a few pieces

that might interest you, and I understand you‟re leaving us

tomorrow so you won‟t have another chance.‟

„Yes, I‟d like that. I‟m afraid your terrace is beginning to

make me feel seasick.‟

Smiling, Costermann led the way through a side door and

down a hallway cut out of the living rock. Thick carpets

contrasted with the texture of the artfully exposed stone,

while carefully positioned lighting illuminated paintings and

pieces of sculpture any one of which was worth more than

Bernice‟s yearly salary. She tried not to feel envious and very

nearly succeeded. The hall led to a lofty inner atrium from

which several doors and halls opened.

Seated beside one particularly solid-looking door was a

minotaur in a lounge suit.

„All secure, Tralbet?‟ Costermann enquired of the Narg, as it

slowly rose to its feet and loomed over them, small red eyes

peering out of its massive horned head, with its mobile ears

and short curved horns all balanced on a thick muscle-

corded neck.

„All secure, sir,‟ came a voice from the basement levels of

the vocal range.

The creature‟s resemblance to the monster of Greek myth

was, Bernice knew, purely a case of neo-parallel evolution: a

plains animal forced into bipedism by changing climate while

still retaining much of its herbivorous physiology and natural

means of defence. Narg were good at jobs which required

brawn and patience, rather than intellectual acuity.

„Tralbet sees to the security of my house and my person,‟

Costermann explained. „He‟s quite invaluable.‟

„I‟m sure he is,‟ Bernice said quickly, smiling up at the

mass of leathery flesh and slabs of muscle. Privately she

thought he looked a surly specimen, but then alien moods

and expressions were sometimes hard to decipher. Perhaps

those furrowed brow ridges and wrinkled snout were the

equivalent of a bright smile?

„This is Professor Summerfield, Tralbet. She wants to have

a look at my collection. Make sure we‟re not disturbed.‟

„Right, sir,‟ the Narg rumbled.

The collection room was like a tiny museum, with exhibits

neatly labelled and displayed in illuminated cabinets and

shelves. Bernice‟s mouth watered at the sight of some of the

pieces, and the cash register of her mind added another few

zeros to the estimate of Costermann‟s wealth. But there was

no doubt as to what was the prize of the collection.

It stood alone in the centre of the room on its own small

table. It was a sculpture about thirty centimetres high,

formed out of blue crystal with paler bubbles trapped within

it that fluoresced softly under the lights. Heads, both

humanoid and alien, rose from a single trunk and spread like

the foliage of a tree. The detailing of their individual

expressions was superb, and each radiated a deep sense of

inner life and - there was no better word for it Bernice

decided - nobility. It could have been grotesque, but the artist

had achieved some unlikely harmony among the disparate

elements which teased the eye into accepting them as a

whole.

„Ah, yes: my Drell Imnulate,‟ said Costermann. „Chalcite

crystal with zalene gas bubbles. Technically that makes it

impure, but then that hardly matters as it‟s unique in itself.

And beautiful, of course.‟ She saw blue reflections sparkle in

his eyes, and his hard features seemed momentarily to

soften. „Do you know its history?‟

„A little,‟ Bernice said. „In Drellite belief it‟s meant to

represent a symbolic amalgam of sentient life forms. A sort of

universal being.‟

„That‟s right. It was said to have been made by the founder

of their movement millennia ago. It was lost in some religious

schism and only rediscovered about forty years back. It

passed through several hands before I acquired it. Now the

Drell sect has been revived I‟ve had offers for its return.‟ He

grimaced. „Some communications were less civil than that in

fact, hence my security precautions.‟

„Threats?‟

„Not exactly. Warnings that my soul is in peril if I don‟t

hand it over to them and that sort of thing. Why they think

invoking a damnation I do not believe exists w i l l frighten me

into co-operating I don‟t know.‟

„But as you say you must take precautions. Money and

possessions have their downside as well, don‟t they.‟

„What doesn‟t? However, on balance I‟m well content. My

money has allowed me to acquire these beautiful things and

enjoy them in comfort. It‟s even brought you here to entertain

and inform me.‟

„But you haven‟t bought me,‟ Bernice reminded him.

„Though I suppose you‟d say everybody has their price.‟

She thought he would argue the point. Unexpectedly he

nodded.

„Oh, I accept that some people cannot be bought. Professor.

At least, not by money -‟

He broke off as there came the sound of a muffled

commotion from the outside. Costermann strode rapidly

across the room and flung the door open.

In the atrium a knot of dinner guests and two frightened

maids were looking on apprehensively at a man struggling in

Tralbet‟s iron grasp. Bernice glimpsed a bristling Mohican

crest of hair and strong angular flushed features. The

intruder twisted round and pointed an accusing finger at

Costermann.

„What the hell do you think you‟re playing at?‟ he

demanded angrily. „How could you do this to us!‟

„You are here without invitation, Mr Lankril, and you are

also disturbing my guests,‟ Costermann replied coldly. „This

is neither the time or place to discuss business matters. Next

time you call, please have the courtesy to make a proper

appointment first. Tralbet, please show the gentleman out

immediately.‟

Though he was tall and well-muscled, Lankril could not

break the grip of Tralbet‟s huge hand on his collar. He was

impelled firmly towards the main door, still struggling

futilely.

„You promised you‟d guarantee the loan!‟ the angry young

man shouted over his shoulder. „How are we going to manage

until the next harvest?‟

But Costermann had turned his back on him.

Tralbet and Lankril disappeared round a corner. There

came the slam of a heavy door and peace returned, broken

only by the puzzled twitterings of the onlookers. Costermann

went over apologetically to reassure his guests, leaving

Bernice alone for a moment. The sense of disquiet she felt

earlier returned. Even Costermann‟s castle in the clouds was

not impregnable, it seemed.

Now why did that thought send a shiver down her spine?

2

MR SMITH

The equinox had long passed and Tempest‟s North Pole was

well into its near half-year-long night. Thule Dome‟s many

lights illuminated a shimmering blanket of wind-driven ice

spicles, which rose and fell in great slow-motion rippling

waves as they rolled across the white desert beyond its walls.

The only breaks in the uniformity were the flickering pin-

points of outlying navigation beacons and the jagged fingers

of ice ridges, thrust upward along fault lines by pressure

changes deep under the polar cap.

The air above the ice storm was by contrast crystal clear,

all suspended dust and moisture having long since frozen out

of it, allowing Thule‟s lights to bathe the underside of the

clouds with their glow. Here Tempest‟s complex and violent

meteorology was at last subdued by the cold if not entirely

tamed. It was never calm, even at the poles, but the electrical

storms were muted and the winds fell to reasonable

magnitudes. As occasionally it did, a rift slowly opened in the

perpetual cloud layer, swirling and widening until it

encompassed half the sky. As though a ragged tunnel were

being bored upward, the vortex of clear air rose and broke

through to the cloud tops. For a few moments the jet black of

space could be seen, dusted with the stars that shone down

nowhere else on the planet. Then the rift folded in on itself

again and was gone.

Owen Rosen, sitting alone at a small corner table of the

Starview Lounge‟s upper gallery, looked out through the

dome wall at the spectacle with unseeing eyes. Every few

minutes he snatched a nervous glance at his watch.

What was he doing here? What had he got himself into?

How could he have been so stupid!

„Mr Rosen, I presume,‟ said a quiet voice, interrupting his

confused thoughts.

He twisted about with a start to find a man looking down at

him.

The newcomer was slightly below average height, carried a

valise and was dressed in a neat suit. He had remarkably

bland unmemorable features. Rosen couldn‟t have said quite

what he expected, but not this. He nodded dumbly.

„You can call me Smith,‟ said the stranger, seating himself

opposite Rosen. „That name will serve as well as any other.‟

His words were mild and indeed his whole appearance was

quite innocuous. Except for his eyes. There was nothing

innocuous about them, Rosen now realized. He found his

voice at last.

„Was it you who called me?‟

„It was. As I said, I believe we can do some business

together to our mutual advantage. I am glad to see you

decided to be sensible and take up the offer.‟

„What sort of... business?‟

„All in good time,‟ Smith smiled, but the humour did not

reach his eyes. „I understand you like to gamble, Mr Rosen.‟

It was a statement not a question. „But shall we say your

enthusiasm does not equal your skill.‟ Smith pulled a bound

sheaf of note slips from an inside pocket, smoothed them out

and laid them on the table before him. Rosen looked at them

in amazement. „These are all your outstanding IOUs and

pledges: total value slightly over forty-eight thousand

shillings. And now they all belong to me. And I‟m calling

them in us of this moment.‟

„You can‟t!‟

„Oh, but I can. And if you don‟t redeem them I shall see

they are brought to the attention of your employers. And then

I think you would be out of a job very shortly afterwards,

with very poor prospects of finding a new position. Very poor

indeed.‟ And he shook his head slightly, as though dismayed

by the unfairness of life.

With a trembling hand Rosen picked up the glass before

him and drained it. Taking a deep breath he said, „All right.

You‟ve made your point. What do you want me to do? But

listen: I... I won‟t hurt anybody. You can‟t make me do that. I

may have been a fool but there are limits, you know.‟

„Well, that‟s perfectly fine, Mr Rosen,‟ Smith replied

amiably, „because I wouldn‟t dream of asking you to do any

such thing. I can always find people to hurt others when

necessary.‟ Rosen shivered. „But none have your combination

of technical skills and position of trust. Very simply, I want

you to take something with you when you return to duty

tomorrow.‟

„You seem to know a lot about my movements.‟

„I try to be well informed, Mr Rosen.‟

„What do you want me to take?‟

Smith withdrew a Hat rectangular padded package from his

valise and slid it across the table to Rosen, who stared at it

blankly.

„What is it?‟

„Nothing dangerous, I assure you. It simply contains an

electronic device, the exact function of which you do not need

to know. All I want you to do, during the course of your

routine work, is to place it in a specified location. That

should pose no problem to someone in your position. But it

must be done unobtrusively, naturally. The instructions are

all in there, together with details of how to contact me when

the job is done.‟ He picked up the pledge slips and returned

them to his pocket. „If all goes satisfactorily, you will receive

these in due course, to do with as you will.‟

„That‟s all?‟

„That‟s all.‟

„But how do I know it‟ll stop there, or that you‟ll return my

pledges like you say?‟

„Well, of course you don‟t,‟ Smith admitted easily. „But then

you really have no other choice, do you?‟

Rosen took a deep breath, picked up the package and

tucked it inside his own pocket.

„That‟s fine,‟ said Smith. „Now, if you would be so kind as to

wait here for, say, ten minutes while I make my own

departure.‟ I le leant forward slightly, a sharper edge entering

his soft voice. „I wouldn‟t want you to be tempted into

following me with the idea of gaining some advantage. That

wouldn‟t be a very sensible thing to do, Mr Rosen. Not very

sensible at all. We shall not meet again in person. Good day

to you.‟

And he walked briskly away, leaving Rosen staring after

him in a sick daze. Eventually he recovered himself

sufficiently to signal a passing roboserver. He pushed his

empty glass towards it.

„Another of the same,‟ he demanded wearily.

In fact the man calling himself Smith did not leave the

Starview Lounge immediately, but entered one of the

washrooms that opened off the restaurant‟s lobby. When, ten

minutes later, Rosen himself walked with heavy steps out

through the lobby, a man of superficially different facial

appearance and dress to that of Mr Smith exited the

washroom and followed after him. During the next twenty

minutes lie did not let the unsuspecting Rosen out of his

sight.

This covert observation ended when Rosen took the

appropriate tubeway back to his own apartment block. He

had made no attempt to contact anybody, or behaved in any

way abnormally except for displaying a somewhat resigned

and distracted manner.

Satisfied, the man who called himself Smith then entered a

public washroom, to emerge shortly afterwards transformed

yet again. There was no sign of the business suit or valise.

Instead he carried a workman‟s toolkit and wore coveralls

hearing a bold design familiar all over Tempest: a sphere

encapsulating the initials TGR.

It was the logotype of Trans-Global Railways.

3

DEPARTURE

From the diary or Professor Bernice Summerfield

Tempest‟s early colonists travelled in sealed ground cars.

Only once the farms and settlements became permanent did

they start building the monorail lines, which are their only

means of long-range rapid transport. Now the network

crosses the planet from the equator, approximately where

Carlsbad City is situated, to the poles, where the spaceports

are.

The mainline trains typically comprise fifteen or sixteen

large double-decked cars, linked by spherical airlock coupler

modules. They‟re built more like ground-level spacecraft - not

surprising since they have to function in total isolation from

Tempest‟s moderately poisonous atmosphere for several days

at a time, recycling their air and water.

They‟re not typical maglev trains. Due to Tempest‟s

electromagnetic storms a modified system is used so that

they are propelled and supported by pure force fields. There

are no wheels, of course. A pity. I‟m probably one of the few

people nowadays who know that their distant predecessors

were once classified by the number and arrangement of their

massive iron wheels, and that there actually used to be

railway workers with the arcane title of „wheeltappers‟.

The monorails made tourism a practical and growing

industry on Tempest, bringing in off-worlders to ogle the

scenery, which I must admit is pretty spectacular. I think

they enjoy a spurious sense of danger from watching the

untamed wilds on the other side of the armourglass.

Personally I just want to sit back in comfort with a long

drink and let somebody else worry about the driving.

Extract ends

Welcome aboard Trans-Global Railway‟s Polar Express,

Professor Summerfield,‟ said the man in the immaculate blue

uniform and gleaming buttons, as he checked Bernice‟s

ticket. „I am Chief Steward Bassit. I hope you will have a

pleasant journey.‟

Bassit was a dapper fatherly figure of a man, who radiated

in air of calm professional assurance coupled with genuine

pleasure in welcoming his passengers.

„Are the drinks still free?‟ Bernice enquired earnestly.

„They are. Professor,‟ Bassit replied imperturbably.

„Then I‟m sure I‟ll have a great journey.‟

Preston Galloway, who had escorted her to the station,

smiled uncertainly.

„I didn‟t really have time to appreciate the... er, hospitality

on the journey down,‟ Bernice said by way of explanation.

„Had to get my lecture notes in order and so forth. But now I

think I can afford to indulge myself a little, don‟t you?‟

„Ah... of course,‟ said Galloway.

Carlsbad‟s station, which served two local tracks besides the

main line, was housed in part of the same natural cave

system that had been enlarged and extended over the years

to build the city itself. Its rock walls echoed to voices raised

in leave taking and the rattle of mechanical loaders. Down

the lung platform passengers were boarding, while at the far

end ill the station they were placing the last of the cargo into

the goods carriages and sealing their hatches.

Well, goodbye, Professor,‟ said Galloway. „I‟m sure you will,

er, have a good trip.‟ He shook her hand. „Thank you once

again for your most enjoyable and informative talks.‟

„It‟s been a pleasure,‟ said Bernice.

„Perhaps you will visit us again one day and tell us about

some of your more recent work.‟

„Curious to see how I spend your money?‟

Galloway smiled. „I‟m sure you will put it to good use,

Professor.‟

„I promise you I‟ll buy myself a new spade the moment I get

back,‟ she said sincerely.

Chief Steward Bassit signalled to a roboserver. „First Class

Car A, Compartment six,‟ he told it.

„First Class.‟ Bernice savoured the words aloud, as the

squat wheeled robot trundled over and gathered up her bags

in its eager mechanical arms.

„Tempest may seem a little stratified and old-fashioned in

this respect,‟ Galloway admitted, „but we do like the guests of

our society to feel appreciated.‟

„I shoulder the burden of luxury bravely,‟ she assured him,

„knowing that this sort of treatment could render me

incapable of travelling Tourist or Steerage ever again.‟

For a moment Galloway frowned, as though trying to

reconcile her words within his own ordered straightforward

nature. Then he broke into unexpected but hearty laughter.

„You are a most uncommon person, Professor Summerfield,‟

he said.

Bernice smiled as she followed her baggage through the

double outer doors of the nearest coupler module into the

train, leaving a still chuckling Galloway standing on the

platform.

Car A, like the other First Class carriage, had a row of four

single and double-berth compartments set on either side of

the lower deck corridor. Also opening off this central corridor

were small spiral staircases which led up to the three luxury

stateroom compartments above. Bernice‟s compartment was

a spacious single with its own compact washroom.

As Bernice settled herself and looked out through its triple

laminated window, she heard the last doors being sealed.

„Stand clear please,‟ Bassit‟s voice sounded over the

speakers. „The Polar Express is about to depart.‟

The Express rose a little higher over the track and began to

glide slowly forward. People were waving up to friends and

relations, reminding Bernice of the departure of a great ocean

liner from another lost age. Caught up in the mood she found

herself waving back to Galloway who had waited politely on

the platform, and then indiscriminately at everyone else.

The airseal enclosing the track ahead of the engine irised

open as it nosed forward into the narrow tunnel beyond. A

ring of steam jets played dramatically around them as the

main body of the train passed through, neutralizing any

traces of external atmosphere that might leak in as it left.

Bernice thought it added drama to their departure, apart

from being an unintentional homage to the days of steam

power. The tunnel interior was ringed by banks of harsh blue

and white striplights, intended to kill intruding native

moulds with an antiseptic dose of ultraviolet. Interspersed

with these were three more ballooning airseal gaskets, each

fitting so tightly that they brushed the train‟s streamlined

bodywork.

Then the artificial light faded and a slight shudder ran

down the train. The engine had passed through the last

airseal out into the turbulent air of Tempest. A ring of tan-

grey light raced towards Bernice‟s window, the outer doors of

the tunnel flashed past and suddenly she was in the open.

The wind shudder gradually faded away as the automatic

compensators adjusted.

Bernice looked out on the Tempest version of an equatorial

jungle. A riot of multicoloured vegetation carpeting the valley

floor, the colours rapidly fading into a monochrome ochre tint

which was the product of a windblown haze of dust and mist.

Low compact dwarf trees swayed and lashed about under its

impact, hugging the ground with thick spreading roots. The

purple trailing stems of ribbon plants rippled and streamed

like seaweed in a rip tide. A football-sized seed pod tumbled

and bounced between the other plants, and she knew it

might be carried tens of kilometres until it found a secure

foothold. Up the clefts and crevices of the valley side climbed

tree-trunk-thick creepers, adhering to the rock with their

sucker-tipped tendrils. Above them the jagged peaks

vanished into the rolling clouds.

It was almost noon, but there was no sign of the disc of the

sun itself, merely a diffuse glow in the mottled sulphurous

sky.

The Express steadily gathered speed. Bernice twisted

around and looked back along the arc of the track,

suspended over the valley floor by its line of marching pylons,

to the mountain which contained Carlsbad City. Already it

was becoming indistinct in the haze, and the many windows

and balconies piercing its outer walls were no longer visible.

Then they rounded a bend and the mountain was lost from

view, and the only sign that civilization existed on the planet

beyond the train was the snaking monorail track itself. Posts

projecting from the side of the track flashed past every 250

metres, bearing lens systems on their tips. They were short-

range optical receiver/transmitters, which connected the

Express’s internal communications net to the branch of the

planetary optical fibre data conduit which ran under the

monorail rack. It was now their only link with the outside

world.

Suddenly it all seemed to Bernice to be a very fragile

construction to rely upon in such a wild environment, and

she wondered if that was why the locals ignored the power of

the elements. With a slight shiver she turned away from the

window, only to catch sight of her reflection in a wall mirror.

Her image seemed to stare back uncompromisingly.

She had short dark hair still without any trace - at least no

obvious trace - of grey. A nose a little large, but otherwise

regular enough. Eyes clear but slightly defensive, perhaps?

There were a few fine lines around the eyes and mouth,

which she was learning to think of as distinctive marks of

character. Not a bad face overall.

But what lay beneath the skin?

It was one of those testing moments of acute self-

awareness that she suspected would come more frequently

with the years. I am me, here, now... but not for ever. The

feeling of undefined foreboding the night before returned to

her, and now, shut in an isolated torpedo of metal and

plastic as it raced through a hostile land, she realized just

how uncertain and ephemeral life was. Though the journey

still had several thousand kilometres to go, it seemed the

Express had already carried her to an unwelcome

confrontation with the fact of her own existence, and

therefore her ultimate mortality. Her mirror image reflected

her doubts and fears all too plainly. That‟s me in there and

it‟s all I‟ll ever have for certain. I keep the world at bay with

booze and sarcasm, but what am I really?

Don‟t fight it, a little voice inside said seductively. It‟s times

like this that strong drink was made for.

With an effort Bernice shook off the bleak mood. She

unpacked her bags then made herself spend a while updating

her diary. Outside a shower of spray splattered across the

window as the Express plunged through a narrow canyon

and they were deluged by the wind-torn outpouring of a

waterfall, issuing from some invisible source in the clouds.

Only with duty satisfied did she allow herself to think

about a drink again. She could always have the „servers bring

one along, but it would be more pleasant, and probably more

sensible in the circumstances, to imbibe in company. She

checked her watch, which was receiving its time signal from

Tempest‟s global timebase relayed through the Express, and

saw it was nearly 11.00. By the local day/night cycle of

twenty slightly stretched hours, that was almost 13.00 by

Terran standard: lunchtime.

She glanced in the mirror again.

„OK, you‟ve used up your angst ration for the week,‟ she

told herself firmly, „now get out there and enjoy yourself.‟

The First Class dining car was already filling when she

arrived. The tables were laid with brilliant white cloths and

napkins, fine china plates and silverware and tiny decorous

sprays of flowers. The display of elegance made her wish

she‟d put on something smarter, and she made a mental note

to dress up for dinner. She searched for her table placecard,

passing a few diners already seated.

A middle-aged human couple, clearly tourists by their

costume, were peering out of the window with interest. The

woman glanced up and gave her a quick friendly smile. At the

next table a lean blond man perhaps a few years younger

than herself was apparently engrossed in a study of the

menu. But his eyes flicked across her quickly as she passed

him, making her feel as though she had been expertly

assessed and catalogued. A pinch-cheeked grey-haired man

in a severe dark suit sat with a pretty younger woman. The

family resemblance was obvious. Her dress was neat but

plain, and seemed to Bernice to be slightly old-fashioned. As

Bernice passed them, the girl asked the man meekly: „Father,

can I try the galoshi. please?‟ A small alien sat alone at the

next table. Bernice noted a bald head of copper red skin,

pointed ears and large independently mobile chameleon eyes

peering out of a gnome-like face. He was wearing a modified

version of a Terran business suit, and a bowler hat and

furled umbrella lay across the side of his table. A young girl

of seven or eight sat at the next table together with two

adults who were obviously her mother and father. „...and

you‟ll be able to see the stars when we get to Thule,‟ her

mother was promising her. Beyond them was a grizzled

thick-set man wearing a highly patterned, expensive jacket.

He sat opposite a beautiful and much younger woman, who

was giggling coquettishly at him. Bernice assessed the

subtlety of her make-up and the depth of the cleavage and

decided she was unlikely to be either his daughter or niece.

Bernice found her table, scanned the menu pad and

quickly tapped in an order. Then she called up the wine list.

At least she‟d start drinking decorously. In a minute a „server

rolled up with a half-bottle of Chambrey „57, which it

uncorked and poured with mechanical efficiency, then glided

away again.

She looked around as she drank. Displays mounted over

the car end doors showed their current speed, distance

travelled so far and the estimated time of arrival at Amazonia,

their first slop, which they would reach later that afternoon.

So far they had only come a little over a hundred kilometres,

and they still had the best part of ten thousand to go before

reaching Thule. Ideally the trip would take three or four of

Tempest‟s shorter days, which even allowing time for stops

meant an average speed of less than 150 kph, assuming the

weather held. The Lunar Flyer, she recalled, could reach 900

kph. But then it travelled through a vacuum, not Tempest‟s

turbulent atmosphere.

„Denn!‟ a woman‟s voice exclaimed suddenly above the

chatter.

„What are you doing here, Lankril?‟ a man demanded

sternly. „I thought I made it plain your attentions to Clarris

are not welcome!‟

Along with several others, Bernice looked around curiously.

The voices came from the table belonging to the father and

daughter. Standing beside it was the young man she had last

seen being dragged bodily down Costermann‟s hallway the

previous night.

„I promise you I had no idea you were taking the Express,

Mr Sommers,‟ he protested to the older man. „I only booked

at the last minute.‟

„Really,‟ Sommers grunted disbelievingly.

Lankril bristled, rapidly shedding his deferential manner. „I

assure you it‟s the truth. Do you doubt my word?‟

Sommers looked as though he was going to pursue the

matter, but his daughter begged plaintively, „Father. Denn.

Please, not here.‟

„I shall eat in my compartment,‟ Lankril announced, and he

turned on his heel and walked stiffly back through the

communicating door.

Then the „servers began trundling in with the first courses,

and calm descended once more on the carriage as the aroma

of line food claimed the travellers‟ attention.

Bernice spent most of that afternoon in a very comfortable

reclining chair in a comer of the observation lounge above the

dining room. She could have returned to her compartment,

but she felt the need for company, if not conversation. She

dozed, partly to digest her excellent meal but also because

her biorhythms were out of step with Tempest‟s compressed

diurnal cycle. There were drugs that could help such

adjustment, she knew, but it was hardly worth the bother

just for the remaining few days of her stay. Some of the other

occupants of the lounge followed her example, while the more

alert talked quietly or played table games. The more daring

experimented with the realwood unpowered baby grand piano

in one comer, or simply watched the rugged land speed past

them beyond the curving panoramic windows.

Just before dark the line branched into a siding and the

Express pulled into the station of Amazonia. The town was

far smaller than Carlsbad, and its station was a simple

excavation in a hillside and not enclosed. Telescopic loading

tubes were extended to clamp on to the Express’s sides about

the doors and cargo hatches, allowing local passengers from

the economy cars and freight to disgorge. As soon as they

were clear new goods containers and travellers took their

place. After ten minutes the loading tubes retracted. Idly

Bernice imagined whistles being blown and flags waved as in

days of old as the Express pulled away, snaking back on to

the main line once again and picking up speed.

The display in the lounge changed to show their next stop

was Spume Lake, which they would reach in the early hours

of the next morning. Bernice lazily shifted in her chair again.

Unwind for a few days, she told herself. Why shouldn‟t she

enjoy a bit of luxury and pampering for a change?

„Good afternoon. Professor. It seems our last farewell was

somewhat premature.‟

Bernice blinked her eyes open and struggled to sit up

straight. To her surprise she found Nathan Costermann

beaming down at her. He took an adjacent seat, snapping his

fingers for the lounge‟s „server, which rolled over and

dispensed a drink to his order.

„I didn‟t realize you were on board,‟ Bernice said, stifling a

yawn and trying to sound alert. „You weren‟t at lunch.‟

„I ate in my compartment. I had some work to complete.‟

„Perhaps that‟s just as well. Did you know your gate-

crasher from last night is also on the train?‟

„Denn Lankril? Is he really? I hope he‟s come to his senses.‟

„I think he has other things on his mind at the moment.

Prom what I overheard I gather this trip was a last-minute

decision.‟ She looked at him enquiringly. „I suppose it‟s the

same with you?‟

„No. Actually I‟ve been planning this for some time.‟ He saw

her look of surprise and smiled. „You‟re wondering why I

didn‟t mention it to anybody last night. Well, I had a reason

to keep my trip a secret. It‟s my Drell Imnulate. I‟m taking it

to Thule to be auctioned.‟

Bernice raised her eyebrows. „You‟re selling it? You know, I

would have said you wouldn‟t have parted with that for

anything.‟

Costermann smiled wistfully. „Oh, I still prize it deeply,

Professor. But I‟m a practical man. The pressure on me is

simply going to increase, and I really don‟t want the bother. I

began to worry that my castle in the clouds, as you called it,

would become my prison. I‟ve had the pleasure of owning the

Imnulate for some while, and perhaps it‟s time to let it go.‟

„I see. Well, I hope it‟s securely locked away.‟

„It‟s perfectly secure, but not exactly locked away.‟

„You mean you‟re carrying it yourself? Is that safe?‟

Costermann laughed. „Something might happen in a large

city like Carlsbad, perhaps, but who‟d be foolish enough to

attempt anything on the Express? And at Thule there‟ll be a

lull security escort waiting. And even if it was stolen, how

could anybody get it off the planet? Thule‟s the only

spaceport open at this time of year. That‟s one reason why

there‟s very little crime on Tempest.‟ He sipped his drink and

smiled ruefully. „Nevertheless the Imnulate‟s very well

protected. The insurers insisted. You should see the device

they‟ve foisted upon me. They were also the ones who had me

keep quiet about my trip. By the way, would you care to take

a longer, and hopefully undisturbed, look at the Imnulate?

It‟s probably your last chance. I doubt any museum will

touch it because they know the Drellites will only start

pestering them, so it‟ll either go to a private collection or to

the Drell Mother Temple, and it‟s a long way to Kamor.‟

„Yes, thanks,‟ said Bernice. „I‟d like that.‟

Costermann‟s upper deck two-bedroom compartment had

its own lounge, expensively panelled in wood and complete

with deep armchairs, drinks cabinet and matching bureau.

Tralbet was sitting on guard much as Bernice had seen him

the previous day, and still as outwardly morose. Resting on a

small table beside him was what looked like a standard

medium-sized black suitcase.

„Don‟t be deceived by its external appearance,‟ Costermann

said, standing the case up on end and pressing down on a

thumbprint lock. „The MaxSec case is apparently the last

word in security containers. Apart from the usual sound,

light and smoke dye alarms it has several other special

features... which I won‟t bore you with now. Shall we say

between it and Tralbet I‟ve no worries.‟

The lid opened to reveal a thick plastiglass inner case

inside which the Imnulate rested, cocooned by foam plastic

support rings. On either side of this container were mounted

solid-looking grey boxes patterned with keypads, grills and

softly pulsing lights. Costermann opened the inner case‟s

front panel with a second thumblock and stepped aside for

her.

„Go on. It‟s perfectly safe to touch.‟

Bernice reached into the transparent container and stroked

the surface of the Imnulate, enjoying the perfection of its

contours. A new light blinked on the display panel but that

was all.

„Enjoy the beauty of the Imnulate while you can, Professor,

that‟s the important thing. After this journey is over, you‟ll

probably never see its like again.‟

* * *

„Hello, Owen. Your tour come round again, has it?‟ said the

man at the spaceport security desk. „Anything to declare?‟

Owen Rosen casually dropped his bag on to the scanner

plate and stepped through the arch. „Just the usual, Jak: the

Carnellian fire stones, the half kilo of dreeth root and twenty

illegal copies of the Wilton Carne concert.‟

He‟d been practising the throwaway line and the innocent

wry grin for hours. He felt a bead of sweat forming over his

right temple, but his voice was steady and his face perfectly

controlled.

Jak chuckled. „You pirate Wilton Carne?‟ he said, barely

glancing at the scanner display. „You‟re a sick man, Owen.‟

„What do you think I need the dreeth root for?‟ Rosen came

back smartly, even as he tensed himself for the sound of

alarms.

But the lights on Jak‟s display remained green. The

instructions that had come with Smith‟s device were correct:

on a scanner it looked just like a cheap pocket vidi set. And

being a company worker, Rosen knew his baggage was

unlikely to be subjected to any physical search.

„Well, I‟ll let it go by this time,‟ said Jak easily, passing his

bag through. „See you in a ten-day.‟

„See you, Jak,‟ said Rosen, catching up his bag and

strolling lightly towards the boarding tubes for the ground-lo-

orbit shuttle Armara.

Twenty minutes later the Armara lifted from Thule Port and

powered its way up through the relatively calm air over

Tempest‟s north pole. Within another half hour it had docked

at the Skystation.

Tempest‟s sudden night had fallen while Bernice was eating

dinner.

The light had bled from the clouds until there was just a

dull red glow that was gone in a few moments. The Express

s ped on, the brilliant beams of its headlamps illuminating the

silver ribbon of track.

Relaxing in the comfort of the upper lounge afterwards,

Bernice drank steadily, played cards erratically and chatted

inconsequentially. She began to attach names to a few faces.

The middle-aged tourist couple were Warwick and Ellyn

Verson. The little gnome-like red alien was Lorrix Wilver. The

man who had given her the penetrating look at lunch was

Garv Ferlane, who she thought might be worth getting to

know better. Both Lankril and father and daughter Sommers

were absent, but the grizzled man in the loud suit she had

seen at lunch put in an appearance with a different but

equally beautiful escort, together with a large blocky man

whose build suggested he had been assembled rather than

grown. Even as Bernice looked at the oddly matched trio with

interest, she found Costermann by her side wearing a look of

disapproval. She wasn‟t sure if it was directed at the other

passengers or herself. Had she disappointed Costermann by

allowing him to see the less formal side of here

nature?

„Who are they?‟ she asked, trying to sound alert.

„The older man is Montague Klemp. I imagine you can

guess the functions of the other two. I said there was little

crime on Tempest, Professor, but it‟s rumoured that Klemp

controls a large proportion of what there is.‟

„Only rumoured?‟

„He tends to discourage closer inspection into his private

life.‟

Klemp, however, seemed bent on innocent enough

pleasures, and Costermann evidently did not let his presence

dampen his own enthusiasm for long. Bernice guessed he

was more relieved than he admitted about the prospect of

ridding himself of the Imnulate. He talked freely with

everyone, except Klemp, and she saw him disappear once or

twice with small groups in tow; presumably to show off his

prize possession.

At around midnight Bernice found her time sense was

slipping, and names and faces began to blur at the edges.

Catching herself before she slid under the table, she made

her excuses to those indeterminate few who remained in the

lounge and cautiously negotiated her way down the stairs

and along the corridor, swaying rather more than the motion

of the Express actually necessitated. For safety reasons she

could not at that moment recall, the pairs of coupler module

doors between the cars no longer opened automatically as

they had earlier, and she stared at them briefly in woolly

minded bafflement before locating the manual switch. Finally

reaching her compartment she just managed to make it to

the bed in time to topple gently over into blissful

unconsciousness.

She woke in the small hours to find herself sprawled face

down on her bed still fully dressed. Slivers of artificial light

from outside penetrated the window blinds, and she realized

the train was not moving. They must have reached Spume

Lake, she thought hazily. Half asleep she blundered about

her washroom, changed into her night clothes and collapsed

into bed again, dimly aware as she did so of passengers and

containers being unloaded from the cars at the rear of the

train. She was asleep again before they drew out of the

station.

The next time she woke the coppery light of morning was

shining through the blinds. The days on Tempest were

definitely not long enough to recover from the night before,

she decided muzzily, clutching her pounding head with both

hands to prevent it detaching itself from her shoulders.

Slowly she became aware of the noise that had woken her.

The train was running smoothly, but there were raised and

excited voices in the corridor outside, interspersed with the

sound of running feet.

She squinted at her bedside clock through bloodshot eyes.

Oh.35 - and they started serving breakfast at 07.00 local

time. She groaned at the thought of food. But why were the

others being so noisy about it? Had they no consideration for

their less robust fellows?

Muttering darkly she hauled herself out of the tangle of

bedclothes, put on her robe, after some difficulty in finding

the armholes, and opened the door. The corridor was half full

of confused figures, some dressed, others still in night

clothes.

„What the hell‟s going on?‟ she demanded, rubbing her

eyes.

Nobody took any notice. She grabbed hold of the nearest

convenient arm, which belonged to a man who she vaguely

recalled from the night before was named Terbery. He was as

white as a sheet.

„What‟s happening?‟ she asked again, raising her voice over

the commotion.

„Murder,‟ he said simply. „There‟s been a murder... and the

Drell Imnulate‟s missing!‟

4

MURDER ON THE POLAR EXPRESS

Bernice pushed through the confused throng in the corridor,

kicking aside a confused „server unit, even as the annoying

little voice inside her head was reminding her that this was

not her responsibility. But she was hung over and angry and

in no mood to listen to reasonable voices, even her own. She

wasn‟t impelled by morbid curiosity or even a sudden noble

desire for justice; she wasn‟t thinking clearly enough for that

yet. It was simply that she‟d been woken up about three

hours too early and she wanted to know who to blame.

You‟ll regret it, her inner voice said, metaphorically turning

its back and throwing up its hands in disgust as she climbed

the tight spiral stairs to Costermann‟s stateroom. Why don‟t

you go away and find some black coffee, she told it. She

hauled herself up the last few steps by the handrail and then

paused on the tiny landing to allow the purple spots to clear

from her eyes and the train to stop spinning.

The stateroom main door was open. Through it she could

see most of Costermann‟s lounge.

Chief Steward Bassit was standing just inside with his

back half to her. His head hung as though in disbelief and

his immaculate uniform jacket was slightly awry. In the

centre of the room a large body, unmistakably that of Tralbet,

lay sprawled face down and very still. A slim knife handle

protruded from his back, seeming to grow out of the centre of

a patch of dark blood that stained the white of his shirt. The

sight made Bernice‟s morning-after stomach tighten

dangerously, and she hastily looked aside. Close by lay a

second body, partially obscured at that moment by the white-

smocked form of a Wrexian who was kneeling beside it, a

black medical bag by his side. The alien doctor shifted

position, holding a hypodermic in his long many-jointed

fingers, and Bernice saw the body was that of Costermann.

He was wearing silk pyjamas, and lay in a contorted

fashion with one arm outstretched, his extended hand lying

at the foot of the small table on which the MaxSec case had

been resting. Bernice raised her eyes, trying to rub the last of

the night sand from them and focus properly. The case was

still there. Its side was open and lights were flashing serenely

on its instrument modules. But the transparent inner box

which had contained the Imnulate was quite empty.

The Wrexian closed his medical bag and stood up.

„Is he dead too?‟ Bernice asked, wincing at the sound of her

own voice reverberating inside her skull.

The Wrexian turned his smooth pale face to her, high wise

brows arching over large wide-spaced eyes. „No. He‟s been

drugged but his condition is stable and he should recover.

Now please return to your compartment. Mr Bassit, can‟t you

keep control of the passengers?‟

„Sorry, Doctor?‟ Bassit still looked stunned.

„If you don‟t want to be disturbed you‟d better put

somebody on guard at the foot of the stairs, or else everybody

will be up here in a minute,‟ Bernice suggested impatiently,

pinching the bridge of her nose. Why did people have to

commit crimes so early in the morning?

Bassit made an effort to gather himself. „Yes. Of course I

must. Sorry, Professor Summerfield. I‟m not thinking.

Nothing like this has happened in twenty years.‟

„And who are you?‟ she asked the Wrexian.

„Pell: company doctor on the Express.’

„Haven‟t you got any trained security staff on board?‟

„What? No. There‟s never been any need…‟

„I know: not for twenty years.‟ She sighed, feeling a certain

inevitability about events overtaking her and the chances of a

quiet few days‟ rest were receding moment by moment. Now

was the time to withdraw before her curiosity got the better of

her. „Well, I‟m sure you‟ll make out OK anyway, so I‟ll be

going...‟

Just then another figure pushed past Bernice into the

room. It was Garv Ferlane of the penetrating gaze. His flaxen

hair was tousled and his shirt was still half fastened. His

intense eyes widened as they took in the bodies and the

empty MaxSec case.

„Sir, please return to your compartment,‟ said Bassit firmly,

beginning to sound a little more composed.

Ferlane ignored him, glancing at Bernice suspiciously, his

wide mouth forming a straight pinched line. „You‟re

Summerfield, aren‟t you? What are you doing here?‟

„Being inquisitive and engagingly officious. It comes

naturally. What‟s your excuse?‟

Ferlane held out his wallet so they could all see it, flashing

it rectangle of plastic that flickered with a complex scrolled

pattern and lines of type. „I work for Challis and Lyne. We‟re

insuring the Imnulate in transit.‟

„Costermann didn‟t mention you,‟ said Bernice.

„He wasn‟t told I‟d be on board,‟ he said tersely; „additional

security.‟ He glanced about the compartment, running his

fingers through his hair, then frowning at Bernice again.

„What do you know about this? Were you a friend of

Costermann‟s?‟

Bernice sighed. „A recent acquaintance. And I still am, for

what it‟s worth. According to Dr Pell here, he‟s drugged, not

dead.‟

Ferlane looked at Costermann then Pell, who nodded.

Ferlane seemed relieved. „Well, that‟s something, I suppose.‟

He picked his way round Tralbet‟s corpse to the security

case. Cautiously he punched a couple of buttons, peered at a

display panel and cursed. „According to this the Imnulate is

still inside... but these things are meant to be foolproof!‟

„So I gathered from Costermann when he showed it off

yesterday,‟ said Bernice. „I think he did the same for about

half the passengers last night as well, though I must admit I

wasn‟t paying that much attention by then.‟

„He did,‟ Ferlane confirmed angrily. „But I didn‟t realize it

until it was too late. So I thought I‟d better keep my cover

and hope it would discourage anyone making a try for the

Imnulate. And now this!‟

„Tough luck,‟ Bernice commiserated. „Anyway, if you‟re

volunteering to take charge, be my guest. I‟ve played detective

before and believe me it‟s harder than it looks. Now I‟ve got

an appointment with a bed and a headache pill -‟

„At least he can‟t have taken it far,‟ Ferlane muttered.

Bernice had half turned for the stairs, but found she had to

turn back to ask: „Who‟s “he”?‟

„Somebody I‟ve had my eye on. Thought I recognized his I

face from a rogues‟ gallery I‟d seen a while back. I was going

to have my company check him out with the police this

morning. Now I‟d better go straight to his compartment and-‟

„Excuse me, Mr Ferlane,‟ Bassit interjected. „But you have

no authority here to take any such action purely on your

unsubstantiated suspicions. I must contact TGR head office

in Thule to let them know what‟s happened and ask for

instructions. You must be patient until then.‟

Ferlane looked anything but patient, and his jaw set

defiantly. „I know my duty.‟

„If whoever you‟ve got in mind is still on the train, then

they‟re not going anywhere for the moment,‟ Bernice assured

him. Reluctantly she felt her brain shift out of first gear and

finally gave in to curiosity. „But suppose whoever did it got off

at Spume Lake last night?‟ She looked about her. „No

convenient broken clocks or watches to help us pin down the

time.‟ She glanced at Tralbet‟s still form, then at Pell. „Can

you say how long he‟s been dead?‟

„Not precisely. Somewhere between one and two thirty a.m.

I would estimate as a first approximation.‟

„We stopped at Spume Lake at two fifty-five,‟ Bassit

volunteered.

Ferlane sighed. He looked at Costermann again. „How long

before he comes round?‟

„Some hours, I suspect,‟ said Pell. „As long as he is

comfortable, I would not like to risk hurrying the process

with stimulants. I shall have him moved to the sickbay

shortly, but otherwise it would be best to let it wear off

naturally.‟

„All right. Get your company to contact the Spume Lake

authorities and have them check on everyone who left the

train there. And they‟d better examine the freight too. Then

seal this room. Let‟s not make the forensic investigator‟s job

any more complex than it already is.‟ He squatted down and

peered at the knife blade protruding from Tralbet‟s back. „Any

idea where this thing came from?‟

„There I should think,‟ said Bernice automatically, pointing

to the antique desk set on the bureau. „The sheath mounted

on the base is empty and the decoration on the handle

matches the rest of the set.‟

„But what is the knife‟s purpose?‟ Pell asked.

„It‟s a letter opener,‟ Bernice explained. „Used before tear-

seal strips. You don‟t see many of them nowadays.‟

„Thanks, but it doesn‟t help us much if whoever did it

picked it up in here,‟ said Ferlane. „I suppose you‟ve got a

cold box you can store him in?‟ he asked Pell. „Can you find

out as much as you can before you chill him off?‟

„I am acquainted with the theory well enough to make a

more precise estimate about time of death, if that‟s what you

mean,‟ Pell assured him. „And I will naturally take care not to

contaminate his clothes or the knife.‟

„Has anybody thought what to tell the passengers?‟ Bernice

asked. „The news is already out, so you‟d better make some

sort of official announcement before the rumours blow it out

of all proportion and they start panicking.‟

„Yes, of course,‟ said Bassit, his face falling once again.

„They will have to be told. But how can I admit that there may

be a killer at large on the train?‟

„I think,‟ said Bernice, „you may have to be judicious with

the truth.‟

In the Tourist and Economy Class carriages, a confused

version of the night‟s tragedy was already spreading along the

queue of passengers collecting their breakfast trays front the

dispenser. Then the Express’s public-address system came to

life.

„Your attention, please. This is Chief Steward Bassit. I have

an important announcement to make.‟

The murmur died away, as all eyes turned to the speakers

mounted beside the progress display panels.

„As some of you may already know, a valuable item of

property was stolen from one of the First Class staterooms

last night. Sadly, during the commission of the crime, a

passenger was also killed.‟ Bassit paused to let the renewed

buzz of alarm die down again, then continued. „The proper

authorities in Thule have been informed and are taking

appropriate steps to deal with the matter. Meanwhile it is

likely that the person, or persons, responsible for the crime

left the train at Spume Lake. Therefore there is no need for

any further alarm or anxiety. Naturally, however, it may

become necessary at some point to question passengers as a

matter of routine. Trans-Global Railways regrets any delay

this may cause, and asks that you co-operate fully with its

staff and other officials in minimizing any inconvenience.

„We will keep you informed as to any further developments.

„Thank you for your attention.‟

As the queue dissolved into a babble of excited voices one

woman, whose ticket said her name was Lyn Masco,

remained silent. Her face was expressionless, but the

knuckles of her hand were white where she clutched her

tray.

„Are you all right?‟ the woman standing next to her asked

solicitously.

„What? Sorry. It‟s... just a bit of a shock.‟

„I know! I‟ve heard nothing like it for years. I don‟t know

what Tempest‟s coming to. I blame all these foreigners.‟ She

looked at Lyn suspiciously. „You‟re from off-planet, aren‟t

you?‟

„Only from the outer belt. Just having a short holiday.‟ She

made a wry face. „I didn‟t know it would involve murder.‟

Her companion evidently decided to give her the benefit of

the doubt. „Don‟t you worry about it,‟ she said reassuringly.

„You heard what they said: he‟s probably long gone by now.‟

„Yes. I... hope so.‟

Bernice found the Express’s sickbay to be compact but very

comprehensively equipped. Since trains on Tempest had been

known to be delayed by adverse weather conditions for

several days, this was understandable. It was probably for

the same reason that they had a Wrexian resident doctor.

Wrexians made some of the best physicians in the sector,

and Tempest obviously wanted the best.

In the hour since the discovery of the crime. Pell had

completed his examination of Tralbet and his body had been

safely stowed away. Costermann was hooked up to biosensor

monitors and was sleeping peacefully in one of the sickbay

beds. Pell had also given Bernice a detoxification pill, but

only on condition that she also submit to a general check-up.

„I recommend you reduce your alcoholic intake. Professor,‟

Pell advised her, frowning at the readings on his medical

scanner. „In many respects your state of health gives me

more cause for concern than that of the late Mr Tralbet.‟

Except that I haven‟t got a knife sticking in my back. I

think that puts me ahead on points.‟

„With that minor proviso, he was a remarkably fit

individual. He evidently did not abuse his system.‟

„Maybe if he had he would have been sound asleep and not

disturbed the thief. Any better idea when he died yet?‟

„Between one thirty and two fifteen. I do not believe

anybody could be more precise in the circumstances.‟

There was a knock on the door and Bassit entered, followed

a moment later by Ferlane who looked eager and impatient.

„Well?‟ Ferlane demanded of Bassit.

„I thought I should inform the doctor first, Mr Ferlane,‟

Bassit said imperturbably, „that we have received a reply

from head office. They are consulting with the police over the

matter of the crime and how best to get a proper investigation

team to us as speedily as possible. Meanwhile they have

given permission for Mr Ferlane to detain his suspect, as long

as he is monitored by company staff.‟

„About time!‟ Ferlane exclaimed. „He‟s still in his cabin.

Come on.‟

Bassit looked uncomfortable. „And just in case there is

any... trouble, I thought you should be prepared, Doctor.‟

„I shall stand by, Mr Bassit.‟ Pell looked at Ferlane. „Are you

armed?‟

Ferlane drew a slim handgun from a shoulder holster

concealed under his jerkin. „Small calibre. It won‟t blow out

your train windows if that‟s what‟s worrying you.‟

„I am more concerned about the damage it will do to - who

is it you suspect?‟

„Colton Terbery. Not that that‟s his real name.‟

„Terbery?‟ Bernice exclaimed. „I remember seeing him this

morning. He didn‟t look as though he‟d just committed theft

and murder. In fact he looked genuinely frightened and

bewildered by the whole thing.‟

„Well then, he won‟t mind having his compartment

searched, will he?‟ Ferlane turned to Bassit. „As soon as

you‟re ready.‟

„Mind if I come along?‟ Bernice asked, surprised to find her

tongue taking the initiative without informing her brain.

„It might get rough,‟ Ferlane warned.

„On a personal danger scale I passed “rough” years ago.

Since then I‟ve gone through “perilous”, “suicidally insane” all

the way up to “imminent galactic catastrophe”. So “rough”

doesn‟t bother me.‟ Ferlane noted the serious undertone to

her banter and looked intrigued, as though reappraising her.

Bernice smiled and shrugged. „It‟s a long story.‟

„Nevertheless, I‟m afraid the company cannot allow its

passengers to expose themselves to avoidable risks,‟ Bassit

said formally.

„Look, I‟ll sign a waiver absolving you of any liability if you

want. But I don‟t think Terbery did it.‟

„OK,‟ said Ferlane impatiently. „Let‟s find out, shall we?‟

Terbery‟s compartment was empty of both Terbery, the

Imnulate or any other incriminating evidence, much to

Ferlane‟s annoyance.

„He must have just left. I was watching his door only five

minutes ago.‟

„Perhaps he‟s gone to breakfast,‟ Bernice suggested.

As Ferlane led them out of the compartment and looked

angrily up and down, the small black-suited figure of Lorrix

Wilver emerged from his room a little way along the corridor,

umbrella as usual hooked over his arm. He tipped his bowler

hat politely.

„Good morning, lady and gentlemen. This is most

distressing news about poor Mr Costermann‟s servant, is it

not?‟

„Have you seen Mr Terbery this morning, Mr Wilver?‟ Bassit

asked.

„Why yes. I saw him pass by just a recent moment ago.‟

„Which way?‟

„He was heading towards the rear carriages.‟

„Did he seem in a hurry?‟ Bernice asked.

„He was moving with haste and, so far as I can appraise

human expressions, in a state of some preoccupation,‟ Wilver

said.

„Was he carrying anything?‟ Ferlane asked.

„Indeed, there was I believe a package under his arm.‟

Ferlane glanced significantly at Bernice who shrugged: „OK,

so maybe I was wrong.‟

„Alert the stewards in the other carriages to watch out for

him,‟ Ferlane told Bassit. „But they‟re not to interfere until we

get there.‟

Bassit touched the intercom button on his lapel and spoke

urgently.

„You seem greatly to be interested in Mr Terbery‟s

whereabouts. Is the package he was carrying of significance?‟

Wilver asked.

But he was addressing their backs as Ferlane, Bassit and

Bernice were already heading down the corridor.

„Just stay in your compartment, Mr Wilver,‟ Bassit called

over his shoulder. „Everything is under control.‟

„Regrettably that will not suffice. Not at all,‟ Wilver

muttered. And he scuttled after them.

Lyn Masco looked up just as Terbery passed through the

open section of her carriage at a walk that verged upon a

run. His face was set and unnaturally expressionless. Under

his arm was a package she recognized. She opened her

mouth to speak, but froze in silence at the look he flashed

her.

Be quiet! Ignore me! was the silent message.

Then he was gone through the rear connecting door.

„He was in a hurry,‟ remarked one of her travelling

companions. „From First Class, wasn‟t he?‟

„I hadn‟t noticed,‟ said Lyn, dropping her head to her book

once more to conceal her confusion.

Half a minute later three more figures dashed through the

carriage. One was a steward. Not far behind them was an odd

little alien man. They also disappeared through the rear door.

„It‟s almost as though they‟re chasing him.‟ The woman‟s

eyes widened. „You don‟t suppose -‟

„Don‟t be stupid,‟ Lyn snapped.

They were eventually stopped in a coupler module by the

further door that refused to open automatically or with the

manual control. The floor of the module trembled slightly

with the motion of the train, and Bernice could hear a faint

rush of air from outside, but there was no sound from

beyond the door.

„What‟s on the other side?‟ Ferlane demanded.

„Freight Car 1,‟ Bassit said. „Light items, post and

miscellaneous goods.‟

„Manned?‟

„Not at the moment. Most of the work is done by automated

handlers -‟

A two-tone siren sounded faintly from the other side of the

doors. Immediately, a deep humming pulsed through the

body of the train, and Bernice felt her feet sliding from under

her as she was pushed against the forward end of the coupler

module.

Bassit‟s lapel button beeped.

„Yorland here, Mr Bassit,‟ came the voice from the tiny

speaker. „The atmosphere alarm shows an external service

hatch in Freight 1 has just opened. Emergency stop has been

initiated.‟

„Either Terbery‟s got out himself or he‟s disposed of

whatever he was carrying,‟ Ferlane snapped, bracing himself

against the deceleration and trying to slide the baggage car

door open. „No use - it‟s jammed tight.‟

„If Terbery went outside he couldn‟t last half a minute,‟

Bernice pointed out.

„Then he was disposing of something - or he had an

atmosphere suit in that pack,‟ Ferlane retorted.

„But the fall would still have killed him.‟

„Maybe he decided to risk it.‟

The Express came to a halt just as Yorland‟s voice issued

from Bassit‟s lapel intercom again: „The hatch is now closed,

Mr Bassit.‟

„Listen!‟ said Bernice.

There was a slight scrape from the other side of the door,

then silence. Motioning the others back and standing aside

himself, Ferlane drew his gun and tried the manual button.

The door opened easily, revealing a section of dimly lit

interior filled with mesh racks and shelves containing

assorted packets and parcels. There was a sharp tang in the

air which caught in their throats, reminding Bernice of

chemical cleaners and bad eggs but which in fact must have

been a whiff of native air. But there was no sign of Terbery.

„Listen, Terbery,‟ Ferlane called out. „My name‟s Garv

Ferlane. I work for the company that insured the Imnulate.

I‟m armed, but I‟d rather not have to shoot you. You‟ve got

nowhere else to go, so why not just give yourself up and save

us all a lot of grief?‟

There was no reply.

„Could he have got out and closed the hatch from the

outside?‟ Bernice whispered to Bassit.

„It may be possible... I‟m not sure.‟

„Don‟t play games, Terbery,‟ Ferlane said. There was still no

response. Cautiously Ferlane stepped inside the door,

swinging his gun around to cover the shadows. Bernice and

Bassit followed him in, spreading out and peering down the

aisles between the parcel racks. The further half of the

carriage was hidden from view behind baggage-handling

machinery.

They had gone just a few metres when there was a crash

from behind them. Ferlane spun round in time to receive a

shower of small parcels in the face. Bernice had an

impression of a shadowy figure tumbling off a high shelf,

landing lightly on the floor and darting back out through the

door. With an angry shout Ferlane sprinted after it, Bernice

and Bassit at his heels.

They burst through the second doorway into the adjoining

passenger carriage and halted abruptly, surprised by the

sight that met their eyes.

Terbery was lying on his back on the floor halfway along

the corridor, squirming and kicking. Hooked neatly round his

right ankle, keeping his leg awkwardly extended, was the

handle of Wilver‟s umbrella. And however Terbery twisted

about, the little alien turned the shaft of his umbrella to keep

him trapped.

„Please do not struggle, Mr Terbery,‟ Wilver said. „This is

unseemly. Where is the Imnulate?‟

„Don‟t worry, we‟ve got a fairly good idea,‟ said Ferlane.

„That is good,‟ said Wilver. „I dislike untidiness.‟

„I‟m making a citizen‟s arrest,‟ Ferlane said, reaching down

and grasping Terbery by his collar, „for robbery and murder!‟

5

SUSPECT

A white-water river seethed through the boulder-strewn gorge

and under the single-span bridge of the monorail track. On

the bridge the Polar Express rested motionless, only trembling

occasionally under the erratic lash of the wind. From its

windows the passengers could look down on narrow shingle

beaches running along either side of the river. These were

dotted with several starfish-like forms a metre and a half

across, with inward curling arms like thick leaves. The

starfish remained absolutely motionless and from a distance

it was uncertain whether they were plant or animal. In this

state their entertainment value was strictly limited, but

several parents pointed them out to their children in an

attempt to divert their uncomfortable questions about events

inside the train. Then somebody spotted a shoal of glittering

silver forms making their way along the translucent river

shallows, and these were also brought to the children‟s notice

with much praise in the hope of sustaining their interest a

little longer.

As they watched, several of them passed close to the bank

next to a group of the starfish things.

In a blur of motion the arms of the starfish nearest the

water uncoiled to three times their apparent length, revealing

barbed spines bristling along the last metre of their length

and about their tips. These lashed across the water like

whips, then re-coiled, carrying with them half a dozen of the

silver-finned forms impaled on their barbs. Hungry needle-

tooth cavities opened up in the tops of the predators‟ bodies,

ready to receive their still squirming prey. The children

gasped in horrified delight and pressed their faces against the

windows, oblivious to their parents‟ sudden loss of interest in

the wonders of nature.

Then the Express slowly began to reverse along the track.

As the gorge and its denizens vanished into the haze, several

children started to protest loudly.

The environment suit store in Service Car 1 stank.

Ferlane chuckled as he saw Bernice wrinkle up her nose.

„However well they‟re cleaned each time, they always carry a

whiff of the outside air with them. Now you know why they

don‟t store suits in the living compartments.‟

„But what if a compartment‟s holed?‟

„Emergency helmets drop down automatically from traps in

the ceiling. They‟d keep you going long enough to get to the

full suits. There was a briefing on them a few hours after we

set out, don‟t you remember?‟

„I... er, must have been asleep. Heavy lunch, you know.‟

He looked at her doubtfully. „You sure you want to come

out? We may be some time.‟

„I have full environment suit rating: zero to plus one

hundred atmospheres, and I‟ve clambered around on some

pretty weird worlds, believe me. Everyone else is busy, and

it‟ll be quicker if two of us are looking.‟ She sighed. „Besides,

it‟s too late now. I‟ve got involved. I want to find whatever

Terbery threw out just as much as you.‟

Ferlane grinned. That I understand.‟

Being a native of Tempest, Ferlane had his own personal

name-tagged suit in the racks. Bernice found one from the

general store and adjusted its fastenings to fit her. It was not

a full pressure suit, but a reinforced airtight thermal

controlled coverall, working at a slight overpressure to reduce

the chances of contamination by external air in the event of

any loss of integrity. It came with a twelve-hour endurance

backpack supplying air, power and communications. Bernice

carefully checked it was fully charged before strapping it on.

When she finished sealing herself in she experimentally

pressurized her suit. It ballooned slightly, but otherwise felt

quite comfortable.

She saw Ferlane remove a gun holster from a small

personal locker and strap it on over his suit to carry his own

pistol.

„Expecting trouble?‟ she asked.

„You can never tell on Tempest. There are things out there

that can eat you whole.‟

„I‟ll be careful. Does everybody carry guns here? I didn‟t

notice them in Carlsbad.‟

„Usually you don‟t wear them unless you‟re going outside,

but I should think half the population have licences. A legacy

of the old pioneering days.‟

She felt the train slow to a stop again, and knew they were

now at the spot where the instrument records showed

Terbery had first opened the baggage car hatch. It had only

been open for ten seconds, but the Express had been

travelling at 150 kph at the time, which according to

Bernice‟s calculations meant they had a swathe of ground

over 400 metres long and perhaps 50 wide to search. And

that was assuming the package had not bounced

unpredictably or been carried along by the wind.

The stocky figure of Yorland, the Express’s chief engineer,

was waiting by the service car airlock, which was built into

the body of the car and operated independently of the coupler

module locks. Yorland was also suited but had his helmet

visor opened.

„When we‟ve finished checking the baggage car hatch isn‟t

damaged, we‟ll come out and give you a hand. I don‟t want to

be held up here any longer than we must.‟

„I thought people were used to the trains being delayed on

Tempest,‟ Bernice said.

„Not when we might have a killer on board,‟ Yorland replied

tersely.

They entered the airlock and closed the inner door. Yorland

closed his visor then operated the controls. The outer hatch

opened, lifting out and folding to one side on parallel motion

hinges so that it remained close to the hull and still half

overlapped the airlock, providing a partial shield from the

outside wind, which swirled into the chamber scouring out

the corners. A ladder mounted on the inside of the hatch

extended. It was formed of rigid tubular telescopic sections,

each fitted with hoops supporting a flexible mesh sheath

which acted as a safety net and windbreak. Ferlane started

down it and Bernice followed.

As she cleared the airlock Bernice heard the voice of

Tempest‟s wilderness for the first time, no longer muted by

any insulation except her helmet. It was born of the wind and

the throaty rumble of distant thunder reflected off numerous

cliffs and valleys rising from a muttering reverberation to an

insidious whisper, then from a thin and tremulous howl to a

groaning roar, only to fade again but never quite die away. It

was an eerie and not altogether comfortable sound.

The track was raised on pylons six metres from the ground.

As she descended Bernice glimpsed a riot of rocks fading into

the ochre haze, sand-blasted into strangely sculptural shapes

and softened by heaps of detritus that gathered in their lees.

Here and there were splashes of colour formed by fungi trees

with their rigid plates that mimicked leaf-covered branches,

and a few low flapping ribbon plants.

Ferlane reached the ground and a moment later Bernice

had joined him, leaning into the wind to keep her balance, its

steady force drumming against her helmet. She was

conscious of having set foot on the true surface of Tempest

for the first time in almost two weeks on the planet.

„Lucky Terbery dropped his package when he did,‟ Ferlane

said over the suit radio, a noticeable hiss and crackle

accompanying his words even though he was standing beside

her. „A few seconds later and it might have gone into that

river.‟

„At least we know which side of the train it was,‟ Bernice

said.

„All right, we‟d better make a start, before the wind covers it

with dirt. Don‟t lose sight of the track or wander off.

Remember radio only works here over a kilometre or so at

best. Sometimes reception gets washed out altogether if

there‟s a big storm near by.‟

Ferlane moved about ten metres off and away from the line

of the monorail track. Keeping parallel with it they began

their search.

Bernice shuffled along, head bent down, prodding any

likely looking object with the toe of her boot. According to

Wilver, the package Terbery had been carrying had been a

fluorescent orange. Normally that would have made it highly

conspicuous, but unfortunately the dominant soil colour at

the point he dropped it seemed to be a reddish-brown. How

soon would it be grimed over and become indistinguishable

from all the other similar-sized rocks that littered the

ground? As she proceeded she noticed that even the smallest

pebble collected a tail of sand and dust, that vanished when

the wind changed direction. Tempest didn‟t lack topsoil, she

thought; it just didn‟t stay in the same place for very long.

„Why did your people let Costermann carry the Imnulate

himself when they could have sent a squad of guards along

with it?‟ she asked Ferlane, her eyes still glued to the ground.

His voice crackled back over the earphones.

„The low key approach seemed best, what with using a

MaxSec case and the isolation of the Express. You‟d be

surprised the number of valuables that get transported that

way. Heavy security has its advantages, but it calls attention

to itself. Too many of the wrong people see it as a challenge.

Even so, Costermann was escorted discreetly through

Carlsbad until he boarded, and there is an even heavier

escort waiting in Thule. But nobody seriously thought

anybody would try anything during the trip itself. Even when

he started showing off the Imnulate to the other passengers, I

was angry on principle rather than seriously worried. I

should have known you can never trust anything on

Tempest.‟

As if to emphasize his words a fiercely driven wall of rain

boiled out of the tan-tinted air without warning, hissing and

splattering off Bernice‟s suit. She staggered under its impact,

feeling subconsciously dampened even though the suit was

perfectly watertight. In seconds the ground had turned to

mud and the footing became treacherous. Her visor streamed

with water, fortunately running smoothly off its specially

treated surface.

„Are you OK?‟ Ferlane asked. Though he could not have

been more than twenty metres away from her he was quite

invisible.

„Fine. But I can hardly see a thing.‟

„Just stay put. It‟ll probably only last a few minutes.‟

He was correct. The sky brightened as the shadow of the

downpour passed, and with it visibility improved almost

magically in air temporarily washed clean of suspended dust.

She saw Ferlane again, then the monorail track running clear

to the horizon in either direction, while before her was

revealed an unexpected razorbacked range of hills that rose

up to the lowest cloud layer.

Then a flicker of motion caught her eye. A wet and dirt-

streaked orange ball perhaps sixty centimetres across was

bouncing and rolling in the wind a dozen paces from her, but

strangely not moving beyond a very tight arc. For a moment

she thought it might be some kind of native giant fungi, then

she saw the cord fastening it to the ground.

„Over here!‟ she called out to Ferlane.

Ferlane splashed across through the mud puddles and

together they bent down over her find.

„Very clever,‟ he acknowledged, turning the ball over.

„Inflatable padding and a built-in explosive bolt to fasten it to

the ground so that it wasn‟t blown away.‟ He unsnapped a

knife from his belt, cut the securing cord and tucked the

tough-skinned balloon under his arm. „Let‟s get back inside. I

want to see Terbery‟s face when he sees we‟ve found his

stash.‟

* * *

Steam jets played over them as the airlock was purged of

external air. As they came through the inner hatch, Ferlane

was already stripping off his gloves and unsnapping his

helmet. His face was suffused with a fierce glow of

satisfaction.

„We‟ve got it,‟ he announced cheerfully to Yorland. „You can

get started again any time you want.‟

He put the balloon on the floor and knelt down beside it,

turning it over until he found a recessed toggle. With a hiss

the inflatable padding deflated and the balloon split down the

side. Eagerly he pulled the limp folds of fabric apart.

Then Bernice saw his jaw drop in surprise and peered over

his shoulder.

„I said playing detective wasn‟t as easy as it looked,‟ she

reminded him.

In Tourist Car A, Lyn Masco listened for some further

announcement about Jordan Tyne. It had been almost an

hour since he had been marched past her under guard back

up the train from the goods car. A little later she‟d seen

Bernice and Ferlane conduct their search along the trackside

and then return to the train. Any minute she expected them

to come for her. But there was nowhere to run and nothing to

do except await the inevitable.

The Express’ s sickbay was situated in Service Car 2, which

lay between First Class B and Tourist A. Terbery had been

locked up in one of the bay‟s two small isolation rooms with

Bassit standing guard outside, much to Pell‟s annoyance.

„This is not a prison,‟ he complained to Bernice and Ferlane

as they appeared carrying a shapeless orange bundle. „Must I

put up with this all the way to Thule?‟

„Maybe not,‟ said Bernice, as Bassit unlocked the door of

Terbery‟s makeshift cell.

Terbery had been sprawled dejectedly on the bed. but he

sat up quickly as they entered. He took one look at the

bundle Ferlane was carrying then turned his eyes aside.

Without a word, with Bassit looking on impassively,

Ferlane emptied the contents of the balloon on to the bed.

There were transparent skin gloves, night-vision glasses, a

gas mask and sleep gas capsule, a pack of delicate electronic

burglary tools, a compact radio beacon... but no Imnulate.

Don‟t pretend they‟re not yours,‟ Ferlane said. „You weren‟t

wearing gloves when we caught you, so I‟m betting you left

some prints behind on these or the packing. Why not save

yourself and us a lot of time and trouble and just tell us

where you hid the Imnulate itself?‟

Terbery said nothing.

„Look,‟ said Ferlane, in an effort to sound reasonable. „My

company got a match on your description from the police in

Thule. They just sent it through. You‟re real name is Jordan

Tyne, though you‟ve gone by half a dozen other aliases in

your time. You‟re a card sharp and con-artist with a couple of

convictions for jewel theft. The charade‟s over.‟

Terbery/Tyne remained silent. Ferlane pulled over a chair

and sat facing him. „There‟s nothing on your record about

violence. I‟m pretty sure you didn‟t mean to kill Tralbet. I

guess he didn‟t go under the gas properly and disturbed you.

You panicked, grabbed that fool knife from the set on the

desk and stabbed him by reflex. Just admit what happened,

tell us where you‟ve put the Imnulate and there‟s a good

chance you‟ll get off with manslaughter.‟

Tyne muttered something under his breath.

„What was that?‟ Ferlane asked.

„I said you wouldn‟t believe me if I told you!‟ Tyne shouted

suddenly, jerking upright to glare at his accuser then burying

his face in his hands. „What‟s the use! You think you‟ve got it

all figured out. But I‟ll take a veracitor test when we get to

Thule to prove I didn‟t do it! I didn‟t kill Tralbet and I didn‟t

steal the Imnulate!‟

Ferlane snorted in disbelief. „Veracitors can be fooled, as

I‟m sure you know.‟

The same barely concealed expression of contempt was on

Bassit‟s face, as he stood stiffly with his back to the door.

Bernice could see he would never forgive Tyne for disrupting

the smooth running of his train, whether he was innocent or

not of the greater crime.

Bernice pulled up another chair, settled herself in front of

Tyne, and looked at him closely for the first time. He was a

compact wiry man with close-cut faded sandy hair. His

hands, she noticed, were very neat and white, with very clean

smooth-trimmed nails. His eyes were bright and his

movements quick, almost birdlike.

„I‟m Professor Bernice Summerfield,‟ she said. „I was looking

forward to taking it easy for a few days when all this blew up.

Now I‟ve got to stay uncomfortably sober and alert when I

could be getting happily sozzled.‟

„What‟s that to me?‟ Tyne retorted.

„Quite a lot, perhaps. I‟m not a criminologist, I‟m an

archaeologist. But that does mean I‟m used to poking around

searching for the truth. Trying to put together a consistent

whole from little fragments and make some sense out of the

past. The same methods work for contemporary events. For

instance: I picked up one piece of this particular puzzle this

morning quite by chance. Remember when I came out of my

compartment and asked you what had happened? You were

totally unprepared for the question and looked genuinely

amazed and deeply shocked when you replied. That wasn‟t

the face of a man who‟d killed a few hours before. It was too

natural. If you were that good you‟d never have been caught

and accumulated that record of yours. But then that doesn‟t

fit with the items we found in the bag you dumped, which

you have to admit are pretty incriminating. Now help me

make sense of these details so I can see how they fit the

larger picture.‟

Tyne looked at her with the first glimmerings of hope. „All

right,‟ he said with a slight shrug. „Why not? What do you

want to know?‟

„If you‟re as innocent as you say,‟ Ferlane asked sharply,

„why did you run earlier and try to dump your stuff?‟

„Why do you think? Because when what had happened

sunk in, I knew there‟d be somebody like you coming round

searching everybody‟s luggage. How was I going to explain my

gear? I had to get rid of it!‟

Bernice looked at him narrowly. „But I take it you brought

it along for more than sentimental attachment? Were you

planning to make an attempt on the Imnulate?‟

Tyne nodded, a slightly manic grin spreading across his

face. „Yeah. I was. Until somebody else beat me to it. But I get

caught. Quite a joke.‟

„You expect us to believe a coincidence like that?‟ said

Ferlane.

„No. But if I‟ve got the Imnulate, Mr Clever Insurance

Investigator, where is it? You‟ve searched my compartment I

guess. And why didn‟t I dump it with the rest of the gear if I

had it with me?‟

„Excuse me, Mr Ferlane,‟ Bassit interjected. „But it occurs

to me that he may have hidden the item in the baggage car

while we were locked out, then disposed of the other items as

a diversion.‟

„Maybe. We‟ll check it out.‟

„I didn‟t have the time to do any such thing,‟ Tyne said, „but

be my guest.‟

„We will,‟ Ferlane promised him. „Meanwhile, how did you

find out the Imnulate was being transported? It was meant to

be secret.‟

Tyne smiled mockingly. „Well, somebody certainly knew

about it and tried to do me a favour by passing it on. Huh! I‟d

like to do them one just the same! Look where it‟s got me. I

should‟ve stuck to what I know, but like a fool I thought this

could be the big one! The retirement job - and to get in a little

revenge at the same time.‟

„What do you mean?‟ Bernice asked gently.

Tyne sighed in disgust. „That‟s what makes it look worse for

me. You see, a few years ago I bumped into Costermann...

and I came off worst.‟

„How?‟ Ferlane demanded.

M was working the card table on the interplanet liners, and

was doing nicely for myself. Then I met Costermann on the

Solar Queen. Got into a game with him and a few others who

wouldn‟t miss loosing a few shillings. I did pretty well too and

took them all for a fair packet. Except I must have got

careless, or else Costermann watched me working over

somebody else and spotted a null move. He sent that big

Narg of his round to my cabin the next night to give me a

good beating, and then he took back everything I‟d won off

him. Of course I couldn‟t complain about what he‟d done. I

had to sit quiet. But you can see why Costermann isn‟t one of

my favourite people.‟

„And now he‟s taken a big loss and the man who beat you

up is dead,‟ Ferlane said.

Tyne clutched his head. „I know how it looks!‟

„But who told you about Costermann and the Imnulate?‟

„It was an anonymous letter that came by mail. Posted in

Thule, that‟s all I know.‟

„Have you got it with you?‟

„That wouldn‟t have been too smart, would it? But I read it

enough times to know it pretty much word for word.‟ He

closed his eyes and spoke as though reciting from memory.

„“You may be interested to learn that Nathan Costermann,

resident of Carlsbad City, Tempest, will shortly be personally

transporting his valuable Drell Imnulate to Thule on...” and

he gave the dates and times of the train, even the false name

Costermann would book under “...for the purposes of sale.

The Imnulate will be in a secure container and well guarded,

but this should not prove an obstacle to someone who is

suitably prepared. I am in no position to take the revenge I

would wish on Costermann, but I understand you have a

similar grievance against him and possess certain skills I

lack which may enable you to succeed. Good luck.”

„And that was it. I checked up what I could and found the

information was straight, worked out how I might pull the job

off and set myself up to have a crack at it. Only it hasn‟t

panned out quite the way I planned,‟ he added bitterly.

Bernice was thoughtfully silent for a few moments, then

asked, „What was your plan to steal the Imnulate exactly? If

we can get a professional‟s insight into the problem, so to

speak, maybe we can work out how it was really done, and

by whom.‟

„You don‟t actually believe him?‟ Ferlane said.

„Actually I do. Go on, Mr Tyne.‟

Tyne began to look more animated.

„Well, the first problem was finding out where it was being

kept. Costermann made that easy by showing it off to

everybody. I simply tagged along last night with a couple of

the others. He even let me touch the flipping thing! He didn‟t

recognize me, of course; I didn‟t look quite like this when we

last met. But that MaxSec case was as tough as he said. In

fact it was more than I‟d been expecting - the letter hadn‟t

been too clear about that. Now, there are only three ways I

know of to beat a MaxSec. One is to use twin heavy-duty

laser cannons, or industrial debonders maybe, exactly

synchronized and focused to vaporize the two control units

simultaneously - making sure you don‟t shatter the holding

box and its contents with the secondary blast and

shockwaves as you go. The other is to negate the

containment field itself with a counter field. But that would

take a roomful of special equipment, and you‟d still run the

risk of triggering all the alarms and self-destruct sequence if

you didn‟t get the counterphasing just right. The third is to

somehow get into its computer core, bypassing all the code

traps and key paths, and convince it to open up. But that

might take hours or days, even for a top-level programmer,

and it still might flip on you.

„Anyway I didn‟t have any of that sort of gear with me and

probably wouldn‟t know how to use it if I had, and I‟m no

computer genius. I was stuck trying to work out how I could

neutralize the case long enough to move it, so I could tackle

it later when I had more time. But it was too big for the drop

bag I‟d brought. I‟d checked up on the layout of these trains

and found a small conveyer tube hatch in the cargo van that

I knew I could open without triggering any alarms - of course

I didn‟t have time to do it silently this morning.

„That was how I reckoned on beating the problem of getting

the Imnulate off the train, you see: throw it and my gear out

as soon as I could and have nothing incriminating on me.

Then they could search as much as they liked. With any luck

they‟d probably decide somebody had taken it off at an earlier

stop and start chasing ghosts. When the heat had died down

I‟d come back here to the closest station I could, rent a

ground car and recover the package. By timing the drop I‟d

know to within a few kilometres where it would be, and the

transmitter inside would guide me when I got close. It had a

timer in it so it wouldn‟t activate for a month, so nobody else

would find it by chance. And that was it.‟

„And the gas capsule?‟ Bernice wondered.

„To take out any guards, like the letter warned me.‟

„Looks as though gas was used just that way,‟ Ferlane said.

„But you can see I never used it!‟

„You might have brought two capsules with you.‟

„But I didn‟t! Have the gloves examined. You‟ll see I never

wore them.‟

Ferlane scowled thoughtfully.

Bernice said, „When we found the MaxSec case this

morning it was completely undamaged, and the readouts

showed the Imnulate hadn‟t been removed. Any idea how

that could have been done?‟

Tyne shook his head. „Somebody much smarter than I am.

If I could do that, I wouldn‟t be here now.*

„Did you plan all this on your own?‟ Ferlane asked. „You

hadn‟t got a partner in on it?‟

„No,‟ Tyne said firmly. „I always work on my own. Check my

record. You won‟t see anything about accomplices there.‟

„I think that‟ll be all for the moment,‟ said Bernice, looking

at Ferlane who nodded distractedly.

Outside the isolation room once more, Ferlane said, „If Tyne

could work out a way to get the Imnulate off the train, then

somebody else might have done the same thing.‟ He turned to

Bassit. „You‟d better get Yorland to check all the hatches the

passengers might have had access to.‟

„Very good, Mr Ferlane.‟

„So you do think Tyne‟s innocent,‟ said Bernice.

„He‟s still the best suspect,‟ Ferlane said firmly, „but I‟m

just covering every option.‟ He scowled. „And nothing yet

explains how the case systems were bypassed.‟

„Somebody must have got the key code from your head

office. Evidently the news had already got out about when the

Imnulate was being transported. Perhaps it was down to the

same source.‟

„Except that even the correct code wouldn‟t do any good.

The case had a three-day time-lock on it.‟

„You didn‟t mention that before.‟

„Additional security measure. Even Costermann wasn‟t

told. Any attempt to remove the Imnulate before then, even

with the right code, would have triggered the alarms. And yet

it‟s gone. Somehow the system was completely bypassed.‟

„But if we believe Tyne, that would take either a computer

genius with hours or days to spare, or else somebody with a

mass of heavy specialized equipment that was smuggled on

board without being noticed, then carried up and down to

Costermann‟s stateroom in the dead of night without

disturbing anyone.‟

„I know,‟ said Ferlane disconsolately. „The whole thing‟s

beginning to seem impossible.‟

„Improbable, maybe,‟ Bernice gently corrected him, „but

obviously not impossible. How Sherlock Holmes would have

loved this one!‟

6

SHADOWS

Lorrix Wilvercame up to them while they were still debating

in the corridor, raising his hat in his fastidiously polite

manner.

„Excuse me, lady and sirs. But has your examination of the

man Terbery brought forth satisfaction? It is an untidy and

undesirable circumstance to be in not to have justice done

and the Drell idol restored to its proper place. There will be

discommodious delays if this is not so, and I have a schedule

to keep by way of my business.‟

„We are well aware of the inconvenience any delays would

cause our passengers, Mr Wilver,‟ said Bassit. „I can assure

you we shall do everything in our power to resolve the matter

before we reach Thule.‟

„But is not Terbery the killer-thief?‟

„We‟re... still considering the matter,‟ Ferlane said carefully.

„But thanks again for stopping him the way you did.‟ He

nodded at Wilver‟s umbrella. „Never thought of one of those

things as being so handy in a tight corner.‟

„I am always prepared for the unexpected, Mr Ferlane,‟ said

Wilver seriously. „You will please keep me informed of

developments?‟ And he tipped his hat again and walked

primly away.

Bernice realized Pell had emerged from his surgery and was

looking on with distaste.

„I see my rooms are becoming a regular police station,‟ he

said. „II will disturb anyone requiring genuine medical

attention.‟

„Just be patient a little while longer, Doc,‟ said Ferlane.

„Sorry - no pun intended. Is there anything else you can tell

us about Tralbet or Costermann? I take it he‟s still out?‟

„He is. But I do have some further information that may be

of use. I suppose you‟d better come into my room.‟

They made themselves as comfortable as possible in the

small surgery. Pell consulted his notes.

„I can say with some certainty that Tralbet was killed

between one thirty and two fifteen by the single knife wound

we all saw in his back. The blade passed cleanly between his

ribs and punctured the major ventricle of his heart. Death

would have followed very quickly.‟

„Pretty effective for a relatively blunt blade, even though it

was long. A lucky blow or deliberately aimed?‟ Ferlane asked.

„Who can tell? The nature of the weapon does suggest

improvisation, but that tells us little about the user‟s

knowledge.‟

„I‟m surprised there weren‟t more signs of a struggle,‟ said

Bernice. „Somebody of Tralbet‟s size, even though dying,

could have caused quite a lot of damage in a few seconds. His

killer was close enough to stab him, and that lounge isn‟t all

that big. You‟d think he would have made the attempt to get

back at him - assuming it was a him - even by reflex.‟

„Ah, but he had already been weakened by the inhalation of

the anaesthetic gas we already suspected,‟ said Pell. „I was

able to obtain traces from his lungs and bloodstream. I do

not have the equipment to perform a complete chemical

analysis, but I suspect it is a variety of fast-acting riot control

agent known as SC-20, according to my medical database.

Not normally available to the public, of course. I assume the

civil or military authorities will know more about that sort of

thing, though whether there are any stocks of it on Tempest I

could not say.‟

„Why didn‟t the gas put him right out?‟ Ferlane asked.

„Didn‟t he get the full dose?‟

„I must do some more research into Narg physiology, but I

believe he was by nature partially resistant to its effects. Mr

Costermann inhaled the same gas which incapacitated him

totally.‟

„Either way, it left the thief, or thieves, time enough to take

the Imnulate and get clean away with it - assuming Tyne isn‟t

our man,‟ said Ferlane. He picked out the gas capsule they

had recovered from Tyne‟s drop bag and handed it over to

Pell. „Tyne, or whoever sold it to him, erased all the markings.

But can you check that this is the same gas? Just take care

you don‟t trigger it.‟

„I will take suitable precautions,‟ Pell assured him.

„Meanwhile,‟ said Ferlane, „can you give us a couple of pairs

of disposable medical gloves? I‟m sure you‟ve got some

around here. I‟d like to have a look at Costermann‟s room

again, and I don‟t want to leave any fingerprints to confuse

things.‟ He turned to Bassit. „Who actually discovered the

crime, by the way? If Tyne‟s not our man, it‟s time we started

working methodically.‟

„That was Lin, the night steward. But you surely don‟t

suspect

„I‟m sure he‟s perfectly innocent. But we should find out

exactly what he saw. The police will be asking the same

questions soon enough, so he might as well get the practice

with us. Have him meet us in Costermann‟s room.‟

„I shall bring him along personally, Mr Ferlane,‟ Bassit said.

„And I must insist on being present when you question him.‟

„As you like.‟

„Does this “we” and “us” you keep mentioning include yours

truly?‟ Bernice asked Ferlane.

He raised an eyebrow. „Unless you‟ve got anything better to

do, Professor. You seem to have some talent for this sort of

thing, and you might be doing yourself a favour if you can

help clear up this mess as soon as possible.‟

„I‟m meant to be having a few days‟ holiday,‟ she protested.

„But as you said, you‟ve got involved,‟ Ferlane pointed out

with a grin. „And you‟re the sort who can‟t leave a puzzle

unsolved. I can tell.‟

Bernice sighed heavily. „I know. This sort of thing‟s always

happening to me. I think it‟s something genetic.‟

Bassit was looking at them both intently. „Excuse me. I will

find Lin. And I must contact head office again.‟ He gave them

the key to Costermann‟s room and left briskly.

Carrying the gloves they had obtained from Pell, they were

passing through the coupler module to the A Car corridor

when Bernice started at the sight of a large figure coming

towards them. It turned off the corridor and climbed the

spiral stairway leading up to the forward stateroom,

disappearing with a dull thud of heavy feet.

„What‟s wrong?‟ asked Ferlane.

„Phew! For a moment I thought it was Tralbet miraculously

reincarnated.‟

„Oh, that‟s Deek. Another Narg. One of Monty Klemp‟s

bodyguards.‟

„Oh yes: the Tempest Godfather.‟

„Who told you that?‟

„Costermann last night. He obviously didn‟t think much of

him.‟ She frowned. „If Tyne‟s out of the running, Klemp‟s got

to be a possibility.‟

„I can‟t believe he‟d be stupid enough to rob the man he‟s

travelling next door to.‟

„Unless that‟s exactly what he wants us to think? For that

matter, if it‟s not Tyne, it could be almost anybody else on

the train.‟

„That‟s about two hundred and fifty people!‟ Ferlane

exclaimed. „I hope we can narrow it down a bit.‟

„Well, say anybody in this carriage. Unless we had a

stowaway on board.‟

„Now you‟re getting melodramatic, Prof.‟

„I think this whole business is verging on the

melodramatic.‟ She looked through the armourglass panel in

the module‟s outer door at the half-lit jagged landscape

sliding by. Lightning briefly flashed over the lowering sky.

„We‟ve certainly got the right setting for it.‟

Before entering the lounge of Costermann‟s suite, Ferlane

slopped in the doorway itself. With a small pocket torch he

examined the jamb, particularly about the lock plate.

„Look here,‟ he said. A tiny shred of silver foil was pressed

into the back of the latch recess. „Old trick, but it still works

with some door locks. A piece of foil-wrapped card slipped in

there stops the spring latch from sinking in all the way, but

completes the circuit so that it shows locked on the indicator.

Anybody could have made up something like this in two

minutes and pushed it into place as they passed through.

Then the door would practically open at a touch when they

came back later. Leave it for the forensic team. But let them

know we spotted it first.‟

They stepped into the lounge.

The MaxSec case still stood gaping and empty on its table,

its operating lights flashing their futile reassurance.

Engineering tape outlined the spot where Tralbet‟s body had

lain.

„Who did this?‟ Bernice asked.

„Pell. He also arranged for photographs of the scene before

they moved anything. He‟s sharp. I would have had a proper

look round then, but I wanted to keep an eye on Terbery.‟

„Well, you‟re the nearest thing to an expert here. What are

we looking for?‟

„Nothing, maybe. If it was well planned, there won‟t be any

clues lying about. No torn buttons or careless footprints. And

as about half the train must have tramped through here last

night while Costermann showed the Imnulate off, even if one

of them was responsible it‟ll be the devil‟s own job to prove it.‟

„Ah, but the crime wasn‟t perfectly planned, was it?‟

Bernice pointed out. „The thief used the wrong sort of gas and

Tralbet interfered. He, or she, didn‟t have a weapon, or at

least didn‟t have time to use it -‟

„Or it wasn‟t silenced so it couldn‟t be used because it

would raise the alarm.‟

„Possibly. Anyway the thief grabbed the nearest weapon,

the handy and traditional paperknife, and stabbed him.‟

Ferlane examined the desk set for himself, fingering the

empty sheath. „Looks that way. Is this Costermann‟s own

set?‟

„I believe it is, sir,‟ said Bassit from the door.

Bassit had Lin, the night steward, with him, looking a little

pale. He was a neat youngish man, with a well-scrubbed look

and dignified air, which Bernice was coming to recognize in

all the train staff.

„Now, Lin,‟ said Bassit. „Please tell Professor Summerfield

and Mr Ferlane what happened this morning.‟

„Well,‟ said Lin, „Mr Costermann had put in an order for an

early breakfast in his room. It had gone up by the „server as

usual, but it wasn‟t collected or receipted as it should have

been. After a few minutes the „server signalled it had a

problem and I came up to sort it out, thinking it had

probably just developed a fault or something. But when I got

here I couldn‟t get any reply. So I used my pass key -‟ he

paled again and there was Mr Costermann‟s man lying on the

floor, with the blood on his back, and Mr Costermann himself

stretched out so still I thought he was dead as well. And that

case sitting there empty with its lights flashing. We‟d all

heard about what was in it last night. And then I... panicked.

I‟ve never seen a dead body before. I didn‟t think to call up

help, I just ran down the stairs again.‟ He looked unhappily

at Bassit. „I think I may have barged into a passenger, Mr

Bassit. And I must have said what had happened out loud...

and then I pulled myself together a bit and called you. Sorry,

Mr Bassit.‟

„That‟s all right, Lin.‟

„Did you leave the door open when you ran downstairs?‟

Bernice asked.

„Uh... yes, I did. Professor.‟

„OK,‟ said Ferlane. „Hang around for a minute in case we

need to check anything with you.‟

„I have had news from TGR head office,‟ Bassit said as they

continued their examination. „We‟ll be picking up a Proctor

from Sirocco Flats, who will take official charge and collect

preliminary statements. Meanwhile a full investigation team

is being assembled at a larger station further down the line.‟

He looked at Bernice and Ferlane intently. „However, until the

police arrive, the Company has instructed me to give you

every assistance in solving the crime, if that is possible.‟

„That‟s very good of them,‟ said Ferlane. „But why not wait

for the professionals?”

„TGR has its reputation to consider, Mr Ferlane. It wishes

to reduce to a minimum the delay and inconvenience to those

of its passengers who have connections with star liners

already booked, many of whom are important and influential

people. If you can present the police with the solution, or at

least eliminate some of the possible suspects, it would be

greatly appreciated.‟

Ferlane nodded. „Well, we‟ll do our best.‟

„But I‟m an off-worlder,‟ Bernice protested. „You don‟t know

anything about me.‟

„It is a question of who we can trust to investigate the

crime. Professor,‟ Bassit explained. „Mr Ferlane‟s company

vouches for him, and his knowledge of the background to the

affair makes his participation essential. And head office has

already contacted your host in Carlsbad, Professor. Mr

Galloway spoke well of you, and his word carries

considerable influence on Tempest.‟

„He did? It does?‟ Bernice realized she‟d never asked what

Galloway did outside the CAS. All she could think of in her

favour was that she‟d made him laugh once. „I mean. . . that‟s

good of him.‟

„In addition,‟ Bassit said, colouring slightly. „Dr Pell

confirms, from the level and absorption rate of alcohol in

your body, that you would have been too much the worse for

drink at the time of the crime to have possibly participated.‟

„Alibied by virtue of being drunk and incapable!‟ Bernice

exclaimed. „Now that‟s more like it!‟

„OK. We‟ll do our best,‟ Ferlane said impatiently. „Now,

we‟ve agreed what happened to Tralbet, what about

Costermann?‟

„He was probably already knocked out by the gas,‟ said

Bernice. „Maybe he was in his bedroom?‟

They went through to Costermann‟s bedroom. The sheets

were thrown back half over the floor and the bed and pillow

were still dinted.

„They must have known it took his thumbprint to open the

outer case,‟ said Bernice. „That‟s why he was stretched out

like that beside the table. He was carried over to it when he

was unconscious, because the case couldn‟t be moved to him

without triggering the alarm.‟

Ferlane was nodding. „That‟s how I read it. But does it tell

us anything?‟

„That it couldn‟t have been done by anybody too weak to

carry a full-grown man five or six metres, and then hold him

up high enough to touch his thumb to the case lock.‟

„Unless there were two of them.‟

They returned to the lounge.

„Does everything in the room, apart from Tralbet and

Costermann, look the same as when you entered this

morning?‟ Ferlane asked Lin, who was still standing in the

doorway.

„Uh... yes, sir. I think so.‟

„Did you touch anything at all?‟

„No, sir. Nothing.‟

„Were the room lights on or off when you first came in?‟

„Er, off, sir. But there was enough light filtering through the

blinds to see by.‟

„OK, you can go for the moment.‟

Lin departed gratefully. Ferlane turned back to the scene of

the crime. „All right. The thief used sleep gas, probably a

grenade or capsule -‟

„Why didn‟t it activate the compartment‟s air monitor?‟

Bernice wondered.

„Good question. We‟ll ask Yorland. Anyway, the door had

already been fixed to open easily. The thief opened it just

wide enough to roll the gas capsule through. If it was a slow-

release type it wouldn‟t make any noise, and even if Tralbet

was in the room he might not notice it until it was too late.

Now if it was a capsule, where would it have gone?‟

„Perhaps the thief tidied it up?‟

„Would he have had the presence of mind alter having just

committed an unplanned murder?‟

They got down on their hands and knees and peered under

the furniture. In a minute Ferlane found a dark green

spherical shell just under the edge of the couch.

„This looks like it. Better leave it there for the police. But I

can tell it‟s a different type to the one Tyne had. I‟m

beginning to believe he‟s not our man.‟

They searched the rest of the compartment but found

nothing of note. Ferlane diligently checked the air vents, and

confirmed with Bassit that there were no other means of

access to the car‟s service ducts or conduits.

When they had done Bernice looked about moodily.

„I had a vague idea that the Imnulate might be hidden in

the suite somewhere, as it‟d be the last place anybody would

think of looking. Then when all the fuss was over, the thief

could collect it again.‟

„Nobody tries that sort of trick in real life,‟ Ferlane said.

„I know. Perhaps playing detectives is distorting my sense

of reality.‟ She clutched her stomach and looked at her

watch. „Or maybe I‟m simply light-headed from lack of food?

It‟s nearly lunchtime - and I didn‟t even have breakfast!‟

„We‟ve about done here,‟ Ferlane said. Let‟s eat.‟

Bassit cleared his throat deferentially. „If you intend to use

the dining car, I trust you will be discreet in your

conversation? We do not wish to alarm the other passengers

unduly.‟

„Don‟t worry, we‟ll try not to talk shop,‟ Bernice assured

him.

Bernice noticed the change in atmosphere as soon as she

and Ferlane entered the dining car. There were several empty

tables, implying some people had decided to eat in their

compartments. The Versons and Clarris Sommers were

among those absent, she noticed, though Denn Lankril was

now present. The family from B Car were there, the young

girl looking bright and normal, but the parents both rather

more subdued. She noticed from their place card as she

passed that their name was Astall. Conversations were being

conducted in low voices, which trailed off notably as she and

Ferlane entered. She walked down the aisle between the

tables feeling as though every eye was following her.

To her surprise, the place cards now showed she and

Ferlane were sharing the same table, with empty spaces on

either side of them.

„More of Bassit‟s discretion, I assume,‟ Bernice said quietly,

taking her seat.

„They know what we‟re doing, that‟s for sure,‟ Ferlane

observed, scanning the menu.

„That was quick.‟

„They must have seen us searching outside earlier, and

Wilver‟s probably told them about our questioning Tyne.‟

„Then why do I suddenly feel excluded? They should be

grateful somebody‟s doing something positive.‟

„But we‟re actually getting our hands dirty, and perhaps

they feel some of it might rub off. If we go through with this

thoroughly we might be searching their compartments before

the day‟s out. Detectives don‟t make good company,

especially in a roomful of potential suspects.‟

Bernice glanced surreptitiously around at her fellow diners

as the reality sank in.

She had uncovered numerous graves and signs of ancient

crimes in her time, but now she was dealing with the living.

Could one of them have done it? They were people she hardly

knew; half-familiar faces with a few names tagged on. But

she had a feeling she would get to know them a lot better

before the journey was over.

An hour later they were seated beside Yorland in his

engineering monitor room in Service 1. Ferlane asked if the

compartment air monitors would have detected the knockout

gas.

„The monitors are attuned specifically to methane,

ammonia, SO; and CO2,‟ Yorland explained. „Unless the gas

used contained any of them, they wouldn‟t react.‟

„Shouldn‟t think it did. Scratch that idea. What have you

found?‟

„The hatch Terbery, or Tyne or whatever he‟s called, used in

Freight 1 was for conveyor tubes carrying small non-modular

packed goods. It was a good choice. As long as you have the

time to bypass the alarms it could probably be opened

without causing too much disturbance.‟

„Is that what‟s happened?‟ Bernice wondered. „Did someone

else use it first for the same purpose?‟

„I don‟t think so. There were no tool marks on it or signs of

tampering, and your man only had time to use the manual

switch. There‟s a similar hatch in one of the other freight

cars, but I‟ve checked it out and it‟s not been used for at least

the last two weeks. The other freight hatches are too big.

They‟d be damaged if they were opened while we were in

motion, and they‟d be spotted if it was done in a station.

Anyway, I‟ve put my own seals on them. If this idol thing is

still on board nobody else‟ll be using them to get rid of it.‟

„Any other hatches or doors that could be used the same

way?‟ Ferlane asked.

„No. I‟ve gone over the plans of the whole train. The regular

coupler module doors are right out of the question, of course.

Too well monitored and fail-safed. Still, I‟ve loaded the visual

records of First Class A coupler door use from last night.

Thought they might be of use to you.‟

„What records?‟ Bernice asked in surprise.

„There are monitors covering all car connecting doors.

You‟re lucky regulations require them to be kept.‟

„Why?‟ Bernice asked, and recalling the return trip to her

room the previous night added: „And why cut out the

automatic door sensors?‟

„In case of an accident. We must be able to see all the doors

are clear and can be sealed. They can be viewed at any time,

but we only record at night or unless an emergency stop has

been triggered. That‟s why the auto systems are cut and

people have to work the doors manually. We don‟t want them

opening just because somebody fell against them, or people

getting caught between cars in a panic.‟

„I wish they showed the whole corridor and not just the

doors,‟ said Ferlane. „It‟s too much to hope that whoever did

it was obliging enough to be caught on them, but it might cut

down the suspects to the single carriage.‟

Bernice said, „Unless somebody from another carriage hid

in Car A overnight, committed the crime, and returned after

the monitor recording had stopped this morning.‟

„Hide where? There are no empty compartments in A.‟

Yorland frowned. „There is the kennel.‟

„Pardon?‟ said Bernice.

„The car‟s roboserver bay. It‟s discreet so you probably

haven‟t noticed it. Lower end of the car, right of the door. It

also houses some ancillary equipment.‟

„Room enough for somebody to hide in?‟ Ferlane asked.

„Yes. But it‟s always locked.‟

„Still, you‟ll check it out?‟

„Sure.‟

„It‟s just a thought. Let‟s see the picture show,‟

The recording started at sunset, the exact hours, minutes

and seconds being displayed with the images. The cameras

were mounted up in the angle between wall and ceiling and

almost invisible. They viewed the figures passing through the

doors in the earlier part of the evening at a high-speed

flicker, using a split screen to show both doors on the same

monitor. At around midnight the passage through the doors

began to thin as the passengers were all passing back

through to their compartments from the restaurant car and

lounge. Bernice watched her own unsteady progress with

some embarrassment. Maybe Pell was right about cutting

back on the drink. Into the small hours and the traffic

dwindled to nothing, except for a couple of „servers on routine

maintenance tasks. All honest souls safely tucked away in

bed, Bernice thought. All but one, anyway.

The time display showed 01.23 when Bernice suddenly

said, „Stop! Back up a minute.‟

Yorland rewound and started the recording forward at

normal speed.

„There!‟ said Bernice, pointing at the right-hand half of the

screen. Yorland put the recording into slow-motion and they

all peered forward intently.

Something intangible was moving across the plain lower

half of the door below the glass panel. Yorland adjusted the

tone and contrast, strengthening the image. It was a multiple

overlaid shadow cast by the lighting strips further down the

corridor.

„A head and shoulders?‟ Ferlane wondered.

„Could be,‟ said Bernice.

The shadow was in view for almost ten seconds then slid to

one side and out of shot.

Ferlane noted the time index. „OK, let‟s see if there‟s

anything else.‟

At 01.54, Ferlane spotted another even fainter shadow

across the same door. But this was a much thinner shape

that could not possibly have been a body - at least, not a

human body. It appeared to rise up, oscillate slightly for

almost fifteen seconds, then lower again. Its motions

reminded Bernice somewhat of a tentacle.

Ten seconds later the picture on the right-hand screen

blanked out.

„What the hell?‟ Yorland exclaimed.

Replaying and slowing the recording down, they saw a

straight-edged sheet of blackness slide across the picture.

From then on the image remained black until the recording

ended.

„Excuse me,‟ said Yorland, leaving the room hurriedly. He

was back in two minutes carrying a small square of general

repair tape pinched between his fingertips.

„This was stuck over the camera lens,‟ he said simply.

„So somebody didn‟t want to be seen using the door,‟ said

Ferlane. „Did they go through into the next car?‟

Yorland called up the recording from the camera in Car B

on the other side of the coupler module and they watched it

right through. The only traffic matched that which they had

already seen. After the other camera was blacked out, only

„servers on routine business used the door until the

recording finished.

Bernice frowned. „Let‟s have a look at that module.‟

They made their way along the corridor to the coupler unit

that linked First Class A and B cars.

„It‟s the same as all the rest,‟ Yorland said.

„You‟re sure nobody could have opened the outer doors

without you knowing it?‟ Bernice asked.

„Positive,‟ Yorland said.

„But it looks as though somebody tried,‟ said Ferlane.

He‟d been bending down examining the cover plate beside

the inner door of the right-hand external airlock. Now he

pointed to a couple of small bright scratches beside two of

the securing screw heads. „These look fresh.‟

Yorland frowned at them intently for a moment then drew a

powerdriver from his pocket and rapidly released the whole

plate. By the light of a pentorch he examined the interior

wiring.

„It doesn‟t look as though anything else has been

disturbed,‟ he declared at length.

„But somebody with the right tools and knowledge might

have been able to bypass the systems?‟ Ferlane said.

„Maybe,‟ Yorland admitted grudgingly. „But it would take

some time. Hours maybe. These doors have too many-safeties

to prevent them opening when the train‟s moving. And the

atmosphere alarms would also have to be cut out, which

would take even longer.‟

„Unless our thief simply put more sticky tape over the

sensors?‟ Bernice suggested mildly.

Yorland scowled, as though that possibility hadn‟t occurred

to him, and checked the airlock‟s sensor heads. „No sign of

any tape,‟ he said with some relief.

„But that doesn‟t mean there wasn‟t any there earlier,‟

Bernice observed.

Back in the monitor room Yorland said, „The system‟s got

some basic enhancement functions. Let me see what I can do

with the images we‟ve go...‟ He bent over the console.

„Well, the shadows were there around the timeframe for the

murder,‟ Ferlane said to Bernice as Yorland worked, „and

before we stopped at Spume Lake. We‟ve got to find out if

anybody left their rooms at all, even for an innocent reason,

during that period. We have to eliminate them anyway, and

they might have seen something.”

„Maybe they only needed to open the inner airlock door,‟

Bernice suggested. „Suppose the space between them was

used as a temporary hiding place for the Imnulate until

morning, after the monitors cut. Then an accomplice from

another car collected it before everybody else was up.‟

„They‟d still need to open the door again to retrieve it,‟

Ferlane pointed out. „Would they have the time?‟

„I think I‟ve got something,‟ said Yorland. „This is the first

image... the head and shoulders, or whatever.‟ The section of

door with the shadow falling across it had been expanded to

fill the screen. „I‟m getting the system to overlay and combine

the multiple images... There we are.‟

The shadow grew more intense and the edges sharpened. It

was a head and shoulders seen almost full on. But the head

itself bulged grotesquely with half a dozen large rounded

protuberances around its upper curves. In turn smaller

looping filaments surrounded the distorted head in a sort of

halo.

„If that‟s real and not some sort of helmet,‟ said Yorland

slowly, „then it‟s like nobody on this train I‟ve yet seen!‟

7

TECHNICAL MATTERS

Nathan Costermann managed a faint smile at Bernice and

Ferlane over the while sheets of his bed.

„From what the doctor has told me, I seem to have made

something of a fool of myself. That‟s not a feeling I am very

familiar with and I find it exceedingly unpleasant... especially

considering the consequences.‟

„Don‟t blame yourself,‟ said Bernice.

„I‟m afraid my conscience will not be so easily satisfied. I

indulged myself. I showed off my prize for the last time when

I should have kept quiet about its presence. Perhaps I

tempted somebody into committing murder. Well, now I shall

pay the price, both emotionally and financially.‟

„But it was insured,‟ Bernice said.

Costermann grimaced. „Ask Mr Ferlane. I‟m sure he knows

the value his company was willing to cover the Imnulate for

was only the reserve price: half of what it might have fetched

at auction, if the right people had bid against each other.‟

„Actually,‟ Ferlane admitted, „for what it‟s worth, we don‟t

think this was an impulse crime. News of the Imnulate‟s

transfer had already leaked out.‟

Costermann started. „Really? Well, that at least was not

down to me. I promise you I didn‟t speak a word to anyone

about the matter until I was on board - apart from the

representatives of your firm and Tralbet, of course.‟ He

scowled. „But I believed the MaxSec case was foolproof. A

representative of the insurers locked the Imnulate in there

himself, and only his head office in Thule has the

combination.‟

„I meant to ask about that,‟ Bernice said. „I presume there

was more to it than thumblocks.‟

„Much more. Even my thumbprint wouldn‟t allow the

Imnulate to be removed from the inner compartment. Being

able to check the condition of an item visually and tactually

while in transit did not compromise the rest of the system,‟

Costermann explained. „I‟m sure Mr Ferlane will correct me if

I go wrong, as the technicalities are beyond me, but I

understand the case continually projects a sensor field

around the inner compartment, attuned, in this instance, to

the Imnulate‟s surface contours down to the millimetric level.

Even if the Imnulate was wrapped inside something or

broken into pieces, the system would still recognize it as soon

as it touched the sensor field shell. An alarm would be

triggered instantly, together with a force field that would cut

off a hand or anything else reaching into the inner

compartment. The force field is also activated if somebody

tried to break the container open, of course.‟

„Suppose the whole case was stolen?‟

„The alarm would have been triggered automatically unless

either Tralbet or myself was carrying the case. If it was taken

from us despite all the deterrents, there would still be the

problem of finding the right combination amongst the several

trillion possible. And if the correct deactivation sequence

wasn‟t used within a certain time, it would saturate the

interior of the container with a radioactive tracer. In the last

resort, if the case or field is penetrated or when its internal

power starts to run low, it will self-destruct.‟ He broke off and

made a wry face. „I sound as bad as the security rep who

demonstrated it. But that is essentially correct, is it not?‟

„That‟s about it,‟ Ferlane confirmed. „We‟ll make some

enquiries with the manufacturers and see if they can work

out what happened. Meanwhile, perhaps you can tell us what

you remember about last night? After the party, I mean?‟

„Nothing.‟ Costermann frowned, touching his fingertips to

his temple as though it still ached. „That is, I think I

remember lying in bed and then feeling slightly dizzy. But

that‟s all. I‟m sorry. And sorry too about Tralbet. Poor fellow.

So reliable. I don‟t know what I‟ll do without him.‟

„Would Tralbet have still been in the lounge at this time?‟

„Possibly. He may have been about to take the MaxSec case

into his room when he retired for the night. At least, that was

what we agreed.‟

„Do you recall one of the passengers you showed the

Imnulate to last night: Colton Terbery - a slim man with

close-cut sandy red hair?‟

„Ah... vaguely, I think. What of it?‟

„His real name is Jordan Tyne. Does that mean anything to

you?‟

„No.‟

„Do you remember travelling on the Solar Queen a few years

ago, and losing some money in a game to a card-sharp you

subsequently had punished?‟

Understanding spread across Costermann‟s face. „Oh, so

that‟s who he is! Yes, he might bear me a grudge.‟

Costermann‟s eyes flashed. „You think he was responsible?

Have you caught him? Is he still on the train?‟

„We‟ve got him safely tucked away,‟ Bernice admitted, „but

we don‟t think he did it.‟

Costermann looked surprised. „But surely he‟s the obvious

suspect?‟

„Perhaps,‟ said Bernice, „but we haven‟t finished our

inquiries yet. You told me you had other enemies, and that

you‟d been getting offers and threats concerning the

Imnulate. It‟s not likely that Tyne would have sent those.‟

Costermann lay back against his pillows for a moment,

then nodded. „No, I suppose it isn‟t. But who else could it

have been?‟

„Denn Lankril, perhaps?‟ Bernice suggested.

„Now I know he‟s a bit of a hothead, but I cannot believe

he‟d do anything like this.‟

„But he did crash your party and make threats, and he did

book on to the Express at the last minute. What was that

scene all about, by the way?‟

Costermann hesitated. „It‟s a matter of confidential

personal business. Perhaps I should wait until the proper

authorities arrive.‟

„I know we‟re only investigating in an unofficial capacity,‟

said Ferlane, „and we have no power to compel you to co-

operate, but if we can get to the bottom of this affair now, the

police may not have to dig so deeply later. Because if they

suspect this case might have a personal motive, they‟ll be

investigating anybody you know who might have been

involved; friends as well as enemies. It could get messy.‟

„Well, when you put it like that,‟ Costermann said. „All

right. The Lankril estate has had poor harvests for a couple

of years, and unfortunately they had just made some

considerable capital outlay on new machinery. Their bank

was unwilling to restructure their loan. Now I knew Denn‟s

father quite well some years ago before he died, and I said I

might personally underwrite the loan, as long as I could

check over and approve their new business plan. I didn‟t like

some of Denn‟s proposals and he stubbornly refused to alter

them. Therefore I said I could not give my guarantee. But the

boy had already foolishly told his bank that I had made a

firm promise to do so. Now he has to explain himself to his

bank and find some new source of finance. Unwilling to

admit his own shortcomings, he blames me for all his

problems. But I still don‟t believe he is capable of such a

crime.‟

„Do you suspect anyone else?‟ Bernice asked.

„There‟s always Klemp. I wouldn‟t put anything past him.‟

„Yes, I remember you telling me about him. But surely he

wouldn‟t try to steal something literally from next door?‟

„He might assume everybody would reason exactly that

way.‟

„We‟ll see,‟ said Ferlane. „Well, I think this will do for the

moment. The doctor said we shouldn‟t stay too long. You‟ll let

us know if you remember anything else about last night?

Anything at all - it might be important.‟

„Naturally. Meanwhile, can I have some of my personal

things from my room? I understand it has to remain sealed,

but perhaps I could have my toilet items, a change of clothes

and my business case. I don‟t think they can have any

relevance to what happened, but by all means examine them

first if you wish.‟

„I should think that can be arranged,‟ said Ferlane.

„I‟m not pretending everything is normal,‟ Costermann

continued, „but I am determined not to let this sad business

completely disrupt my life any further than necessary. That

would mean giving into thieves and murderers. You

understand?‟

„I think so,‟ said Bernice.

They returned to Yorland‟s monitor room, where the engineer

was still trying to improve the quality of the shadow images

they had found. The second shadow now resembled a slightly

crooked snake. Whatever had cast it must have been further

back from the door than the „alien‟ head and shoulders, but

there seemed little chance of finding out more with the

equipment they had available.

As they were peering at the strange forms Bassit came in.

„I thought you might be interested to know that the initial

investigations at Spume Lake have found no trace of the

Imnulate with either the freight or passengers from the

Express. They were all local residents and well known and

everybody has been accounted for.‟

„That was quick work,‟ Bernice commented.

„It is a small community, Professor, and most unlikely to

harbour major jewel thieves.‟

Bernice smiled. „Anything else?‟

„I‟m afraid the news services are clamouring for more

details of the crime. TGR and the police have made official

statements, but that has not satisfied them.‟

„Well, at least we won‟t have many reporters dropping in on

us out here,‟ said Bernice, „unless we pick them up at any

regular stops along the way.‟

„No, but regrettably some reporters seem to have obtained

the Express’s passenger list and are checking it against the

telephone directory. Several passengers have already been

contacted and offered sums of money for details of the story.

I advise you to turn your personal links off when they are not

in use.‟

„Thanks, we‟ll do that.‟

„Meanwhile, where do we go from here?‟ said Ferlane.

„Well,‟ said Yorland, turning aside from the monitor screen

for a moment, „I‟ve thought about it some more and for what

it‟s worth I don‟t believe anything could have been dropped

off the train unnoticed. It would take too long for a start.

Despite those scratches on the doorplate there are just too

many systems that would have to be bypassed, and there‟s

no sign of further tampering either physically or on the

system monitor logs. They must have given up and tried

something else.‟

Bernice didn‟t question his professional judgement any

further. „All right, so what next?‟

Ferlane shrugged. „If it‟s not in Spume Lake, and hasn‟t

been chucked overboard, then it must be hidden on the train

somewhere, probably in Car A. Which means...‟

Ferlane and Bernice exchanged understanding glances,

then turned to Bassit, who suddenly looked apprehensive.

„No, Mr Ferlane, Professor: think of the inconvenience to

the passengers!‟

„Sorry, Mr Bassit,‟ Bernice said, „but I think we‟re going to

have to search the train - starting with the compartments in

First Class A.‟

The cloudtops of Tempest shone brilliantly five hundred

kilometres below as the Skystation completed another orbit

over its poles. Invisible in the darkness of the shadowed

hemisphere was the only break in the clouds; the swirling

fluctuating vortex over the pole itself, where sharp-eyed

watchers occasionally caught a glimpse of the lights of Thule

dome. These, however, were often eclipsed by the pulsing

glows and firefly sparkles of the perpetual lightning storms

that illuminated the Tempest night. Over these hung

streamers of cold auroral fire, energized by solar flare

outbursts and concentrated by Tempest‟s powerful magnetic

field.

The spectacle had drawn many of the transit passengers to

the great observation windows, but it did not divert Owen

Rosen. He had seen it too many times before. And on this day

especially he had other things on his mind.

From the slowly turning central drum of the station he took

a free-fall tube up the central axis to the communications

arrays. These projected from the opposite end of the station

to the docking booms where starships and shuttles moored.

The array held the delicate antennae that linked Tempest

with the rest of the system and the distant stars. Via a ring of

relay satellites they beamed signals down to the dishes of the

polar ground stations and received their often faint and static

distorted replies. A separate receptor ring monitored all ships

passing through a ten million kilometre sphere of space

about Tempest.

Rosen checked in at the array control room a few minutes

before his duty period commenced. He glanced over the

operating log books as he chatted with the engineer he was

relieving. At the appointed time his opposite number

departed and Rosen assumed control.

For an hour he gave routine orders to the team of men and

maintenance robots under him. Then he handed over to his

second, picked up a toolkit and started on his personal

rounds. He worked his way through the service tubes,

checking the main junctions and servo system links as was

his habit. He exchanged a few words with a junior engineer

working on a minor repair and continued on.

It was only when he reached a certain locked maintenance

hatch that he broke with routine. He looked up and down the

tube to be sure he was alone, drew on a pair of gloves,

opened the hatch with his pass key, slipped inside and closed

it behind him. He was in a narrow service shaft fitted with a

ladder to aid movement in its micro-gravity interior. He

checked his watch and began to haul himself along the shaft.

For the first time he began to sweat.

A fifteen-metre climb brought him to a conduit junction

where the feed lines from the external scanner arrays

merged. He used the powerdriver from his tool kit to remove

the cover plate and expose the thick bundle of cables within.

From his pocket he pulled out the device Smith had given

him together with the diagram that had accompanied it. It

was a slim fiat black unit about the size of his hand and

featureless except for a row of contacts and adhesive pads

running down one side. He checked the cables before him

with the schematic layout on the diagram until he had traced

the one he wanted. Carefully he tucked the device around

behind the cable bundle so it was out of sight, and pressed it

into place. There was a slight click as the contacts fastened

on to the cable.

Breathing rapidly he replaced the cover plate, repacked his

tools and pushed himself back down the shaft. He listened

intently before opening the hatch into the main corridor,

scrambling through it and locking it shut once more. He tore

off his gloves and stuffed them away, then checked his

watch. Less than five minutes. Nobody could possibly have

missed him in that time. He mopped his forehead with a

handkerchief and then, walking briskly, he continued on his

rounds.

In due course he returned to the main control room. After a

suitable interval he ran a general systems check, personally

keying in one particular test sequence not in the manual.

Every system responded correctly, including Smith‟s device.

When his shift ended he would send the coded message to

the number Smith had given him confirming the installation

had been accomplished successfully.

For a few minutes Rosen felt only relief that the worst was

over. He had fulfilled his part of the bargain. Now. if Smith

wanted to keep the device secret, he‟d have to return the

IOUs as he‟d promised. Yes, of course he would.

Wouldn‟t he?

The search of Car A was conducted by Bassit and two other

stewards, since they represented the familiar face of the

railway authority and their presence was less likely to be

resented. Bernice and Ferlane waited outside in the corridor

ready to assist in case anything was discovered. They

expected Monty Klemp to object to the procedure, but he

apparently gave no trouble; according to Bassit he treated the

whole matter as something of a joke. It was Lucas Sommers

who protested most loudly, evidently deeply insulted that

anybody could begin to suspect he had anything to do with

such a crime. They could hear his voice out in the corridor,

intercut with the fainter tones of Clarris Sommers trying to

calm him down. Bernice felt sorry for the girl. Parents could

be so embarrassing at times.

But eventually, with many apologies from Bassit, his

stateroom was searched, and nothing was found. The team

moved on to the next compartment, methodically working

their way through the whole carriage, overlooking no space

that could possibly contain the Imnulate.

And they found nothing.

„If it was a smaller, less distinctive item, I might believe we

could have missed it,‟ said Bassit, dabbing at his head with a

handkerchief. „But the places it can be hidden are quite

limited, and it certainly cannot be concealed inconspicuously

about the person. Therefore I am confident in saying it is not

in this car.‟

„Then it must be somewhere else,‟ said Ferlane impatiently.

„How long would it take to search the whole train?‟

„Please, Mr Ferlane!‟ Bassit protested. „Not until tomorrow.

It is getting dark and we have other duties to attend to.‟

Ferlane relented, though it was obvious he was far from

happy. Bassit and his stewards returned to their regular

duties.

„They‟ve done the best they can,‟ Bernice pointed out. „Don‟t

be too hard on them.‟

Ferlane ran his hand through his hair irritably. „I know,

but I just find the whole business incredibly frustrating.‟

„Well, we‟ll have the Proctor from Sirocco Flats tomorrow.

We‟ve done some useful groundwork. He can have the fun of

interviewing everybody.‟

Ferlane grunted dismissively. Bernice frowned at him.

„You were hoping to solve this before the police got here,

weren‟t you? What you really want is the freedom to tear this

whole train apart, without bothering whose toes you tread

on.‟

„What do you think! Remember the Imnulate was my

responsibility while it was on the train. I‟ve got to account to

my chiefs for its loss. I could lose my job if they decide I was

negligent.‟

„Well, they certainly can‟t blame you for whoever let Tyne in

on the secret. That must have happened weeks ago. When

were you assigned to the job?‟

„Ten days ago.‟

„There you are then. Whoever did this was probably

preparing just as far ahead, while we‟ve only had a few hours

to try to make sense of it all.‟ She looked at her watch. „Was

that only this morning? It‟s been a very long short day.‟

Ferlane was smiling at her. „You‟re good at reassuring

people, you know that?‟

„You‟re welcome - just as long as you don‟t mistake me for

some Polyannaish cock-eyed optimist. Deep down I‟m cynical

as hell. It‟s just that I know the universe is so loaded against

you from the day you‟re born, that there‟s no point in adding

to your woes further by indulging in pointless self-

recrimination.‟

Ferlane looked at her disbelievingly. „Ms Granite Heart, eh?‟

„OK,‟ Bernice relented. „I don‟t like to see people being

miserable. But that‟s just being selfish, understand?‟

„Sure. How are you with lame kittens?‟

„Don‟t push it!‟

„How about getting ready for dinner?‟

„Now that‟s more like it. We need to think constructively

and I need brain food. Red wine and a five-centimetre

synthetic steak with all the trimmings.‟ She suddenly gave a

dry chuckle. „Isn‟t the human mind a wonderful thing?‟

„What do you mean?‟

„That we can think of food at all - when for all we know

there might be a murderer sitting at the next table.‟

The passenger calling herself Lyn Masco sat in the tourist

dining car picking at her food.

Zara, her acquaintance from the breakfast queue, who had

apparently decided to take her under her wing for the trip,

was seated beside her recounting to anybody who would

listen details of gory crimes from half the sector, then

assuring them they had nothing to be frightened of.

Lyn responded mechanically to the flow of talk while

thinking of Tyne. It seemed as though he‟d kept his mouth

shut about her presence, making her feel slightly guilty that

she‟d ever thought otherwise. But now, if she couldn‟t do

anything to help him, should she get off at the next stop? Her

ticket was for Thule, but in the circumstances she could

always claim to be frightened of continuing on the train. But

would the police still question her as a matter of routine, and

would her false identity stand such examination?

As she was turning over these thoughts she noticed the

display panel at the end of the car showed the Express’s

average speed had fallen due to head winds. Even as she

watched the estimated time of arrival at their next stop was

being revised. She sagged a little more in her seat.

It was going to be a long trip.

Walking back through Car A after dinner, Bernice and

Ferlane lingered in the corridor until the rest had either

returned to their compartments or else gone up to the

lounge. The lights had dimmed to their night settings, re-

creating the conditions under which the mysterious shadows

had been cast. Once they were alone they walked up and

down experimentally, watching how their own shadows fell

across the door at the lower end of the car.

„Remember the head and shoulders moved to the right,‟

said Ferlane. „Was it to use a door?‟

„Maybe... or just keeping to one side of the corridor in case

somebody was looking through the coupler windows from the

next car. Or to keep clear of the monitor camera.‟

„Well, to be as sharp as it was, whoever or whatever cast it

must have been within, say, live metres of the door,‟ Ferlane

stated. „What does that include?‟

„The stairs, compartments 5, 7 and 8 and the „server‟s

kennel.‟

The „kennel‟, as Yorland had called it, was set between

compartment 7 and the end wall of the car. There was a low

narrow door, rather like a catflap, for the „servers, set in a

flush human-sized door with an unobtrusive keyplate. Still,

locks could be picked, Bernice thought. They‟d have to

confirm with Yorland that he‟d checked it out.

A little more experimentation confirmed that whatever cast

the second shadow had to be further away from the end of

the car, but not more than halfway along, where the

intervening lights would wash it out completely. And it had

been tall, perhaps brushing the ceiling. Even Klemp‟s Narg

bodyguard was not quite that tall and his bulk would have

cast a broader shadow.

Bernice yawned. „I think that‟s enough for today, especially

as I still need to make up for last night. Sorry we can‟t get

this whole thing buttoned up in one go. Don‟t get too down. I

don‟t think you could have prevented it.‟

Ferlane nodded resignedly, and gave a quirky smile that

Bernice found rather appealing. Then he trudged away

towards his own compartment.

From the diary of Professor Bernice Summerfield

Like it or not I‟ve got mixed up in this thing. Bang goes any

chance of a relaxing journey and getting convivial with people

in a civilized manner. It‟s amazing how a murder puts a

damper on things. I can sense even Ferlane is being friendly

but reserved. Pity, as I suspect he‟s an interesting man:

intelligent, keen, dedicated... have I mentioned he‟s also got a

good body? Down, Bernice! After this is all over, maybe? But

he‟s preoccupied with the job in hand, and the problem is I‟m

a sucker for puzzles as well. OK, let‟s try to work this out

methodically.

According to the compartment allocation plan for Car AI got

from Bassit, if I‟m facing forward towards the engine, even

numbered compartments are on the right, odd on the left,

with the numbers running down the car. Brandon and Deek,

Klemp‟s bodyguards, are in 1, while compartment 2 opposite

them is Ferlane‟s room. Number 3 is occupied by Glavel

Merch, some sort of businessman, and 4 is/was

Terbery/Tyne‟s. Ellyn and Warwick Verson, offworld tourists,

are in 5, while 6 is mine. 7 contains the impulsive Denn

Lankril and 8 belongs to the fussy and helpful Lorrix Wilver.

On the deck above are three stateroom compartments

which TGR, for unspecified reasons, letters rather than

numbers. The furthest forward is stateroom A, belonging to

Monty Klemp. B held Costermann and the late Tralbet. C

belongs to father and daughter Sommers. The individual sets

of spiral stairs and „server lifts that give access to them from

the lower corridor are set between compartments 2 and 4, 3

and 5, and 6 and 8, respectively.

Likely as not, one of the people on that list committed the

crime. Unless the shadows actually belong to some unknown

intruder who entered Car A by means unknown, in which

case I‟m wasting my time because they probably left the train

at Spume Lake. On the other hand, somebody in Car A may

just have waited until morning when the monitors

automatically cut, and then passed the Imnulate on to an

accomplice in Car B before everybody else was moving about.

This opens up the field. Will they have to check on everybody

in Car B, or the one beyond that: Service 2? When will they

start suspecting the crew as well?

According to the local late news the police are still reluctant

to give more details, saying only that the murder will be fully

investigated. Popular opinion, however, has already been

stirred by the incident. Apparently, questions have been

raised in the legislature about the affair, with several

members questioning the decline in moral values that have

led to such a crime. Others pointed out that it seems to have

been motivated by an alien religious artefact, and that the

Express is carrying many off-world tourists. They‟re

wondering whether foreign imports and tourism should be

restricted.

Sensationalizing nonsense which makes me uneasy.

Since it was settled. Tempest‟s inhabitants have lived

uncrowded lives with plenty of elbow room. But now two

hundred and fifty of them are sharing a train with a possible

killer and a lot of fear and prejudice with nowhere to go.

How long before the cracks begin to show?

Extract ends

8

SPECIAL DUTY

Sirocco Flats was a strange stark place, especially seen in the

ruddy early morning light.

The ribbon of the monorail track ran out across a wide

plain, perhaps a desiccated lake bed, patterned with a web-

work of deep cracks that stretched away to the indefinite

horizon. Bernice thought of it as the ultimate crazy-paving

patio. Across this expanse marched swirling dust devils

whipped up by the fitful wind, which also propelled „rollers‟:

Tempest tumbleweeds four metres across which bounced

along in flat slow-motion arcs. Flitting in and out of these

were silvery paper-light creatures resembling living

sailboards with double sails. These „surfers‟ skimmed the

dead lake, twisting their sails to catch the wind and skipping

high over the deepest cracks as they came to them. This

caution was explained when one surfer crossed too low. And

arm trailing a grey veil behind it like a shawl lashed out from

the depths of the crack and enveloped the creature in its

web, and in a moment was gone.

„We shall be arriving at Sirocco Flats in two minutes,‟

Bassit informed the passengers.

The wind dropped briefly and a shadow appeared out of the

haze, straddling the monorail line. It was the town of Sirocco

Flats itself, built into an isolated rocky pinnacle standing in

the centre of the plain. As they sped towards it Bernice saw

that the track dived into a cave at the base of the mount,

presumably emerging again on the far side.

The Express slowed and entered the tunnel mouth

smoothly. Artificial lighting strips flashed by, seeming harsh

after the muted diffuseness outside, but there was no

elaborate airlock system as they had in Carlsbad. They glided

into the station itself, with a curving armourglass wall

dividing them and the outside air from the platform. Mounted

in this were telescoping passenger tubes waiting to link with

the airlocks on the Express’s coupler modules. There were

perhaps a score of people on the platform and a pile of cargo

pallets. The Express came to a smooth stop and settled down

over the rail. A single passenger tube extended, connecting to

the module linking Service 1 with the engine, and three

officials in TGR uniforms walked through it and stepped on

board. There was a minute‟s pause, then another

announcement:

„Will passengers intending to disembark at Sirocco Flats

please stand by.‟

Bernice and Ferlane made their way forward to Service 1,

where they found Bassit in earnest debate with the TGR

officials.

„What‟s going on?‟ Ferlane demanded. „Where‟s the

Proctor?‟

„That is what Mr Lomis, the station master, is just

explaining,‟ Bassit said, introducing Bernice and Ferlane.

„I‟m afraid our Proctor has been delayed on an assignment

up in the hills,‟ Lomis said. „We were hoping he would have

returned by this morning, but he managed to send a message

by relay through the farm net a short while ago saying he

would be at least another day.‟

„Well, are we meant to wait around here for him, or are we

pushing on?‟ Bernice asked.

„We‟re waiting for a decision on that from head office,‟

Bassit said. „They will have to consult with the police.‟

Ferlane had been looking out of the window. There was still

only one passenger tube attached to the train. „Why aren‟t

you unloading while we wait?‟

Lomis looked unhappy. „Our orders from head office are

that all passengers, baggage and goods disembarking are to

be searched as soon as they set foot on the platform. You will

have to make an announcement to that effect, Mr Bassit.‟

Bassit nodded equally unhappily.

„Is anybody from First Class due to get off here?‟ Ferlane

asked.

„No, Mr Ferlane.‟

„Well, at least we can keep our eye on them for the time

being.‟

„What about new passengers?‟ Bernice wondered.

„There aren‟t any. Professor,‟ Lomis said bitterly. „All those

with reservations for the Express have cancelled. There‟s been

nothing like it on the TGR for twenty years, even during the

tornado season.‟

Bernice and Ferlane watched through an observation lounge

window as the single column of passengers from Tourist and

Economy Class filed off the train and on to the platform,

where they and their baggage were methodically searched.

Some passengers were clearly protesting about this unusual

procedure, which must have been almost unknown on

Tempest. A few children, sensitive to the mood, were crying.

Further down the station, cargo modules were being

unloaded one by one and being subjected to an equally

thorough examination.

„That‟s one thing about your planet,‟ Bernice said. „It makes

this sort of work easier. Nobody‟s going to slip the Imnulate

off the train unnoticed in here.‟

„True,‟ Ferlane agreed. „But if it doesn‟t turn up soon, we‟re

going to have to search the whole damn train. We‟ve got to

know for certain if it‟s still on board or not.‟

Dr Pell came up to them. „Mr Bassit has called for us all to

meet him in his office. Apparently he has some more news for

us.‟

„Good or bad?‟ said Bernice. „No, let me guess...‟

* * *

The four of them almost filled Bassit‟s tiny office in Service

1. They arranged themselves as best they could before the

desk viewphone screen. On it were the head and shoulders of

a business-suited middle-aged woman with an authoritative

manner. Bassit introduced her to them as Anneka Neelson,

President of Trans-Global Railways. Her grave face set the

tone of her communication.

„So do we wait here for the local Proctor, or not?‟ Ferlane

asked.

„No, Mr Ferlane,‟ said Neelson. „We have consulted with the

police on the matter, and it has been decided that you should

continue on towards Thule without further delay. However, in

view of the continuing uncertainty of your situation and the

public reaction to it, we must also take other measures. I‟ll

hand you over to Commissioner Hynds of the police

department.‟

The screen split to include a stern man in a dark uniform.

He looked tired and irritable.

„This is a bad business, not being able to get a team to you

promptly,‟ he said. „Even worse that the whole matter has

become the spotlight for considerable media interest. It

makes Tempest‟s security forces look inefficient to other

worlds who don‟t understand our situation. I‟ve always

maintained that we should have fully staffed outposts, but

when our budget comes up for review they say we have too

few serious crimes to justify the expense...‟ He appeared to

restrain himself. „However, that‟s not your concern.

„Order must be maintained on Express for the next day at

least without outside assistance. Also the investigation

proper must begin without any further delay; statements

taken while events are fresh in any potential witnesses‟

minds, lines of inquiry followed and so forth. However, it has

long been established this cannot be done satisfactorily over

the phone. Now, I understand you have already been making

certain private inquiries on behalf of TGR, and I have seen a

summary of your conclusions so far. Your work seems

competent

and

fairly

methodical.

Therefore,

the

circumstances being what they are, I am appointing all four

of you temporary special constables in the TPD.‟

Bassit continued to look grave. Pell twitched his long

fingers in a gesture of mild surprise, then bowed his head in

acquiescence. Ferlane grinned wryly. Bernice spoke up in

dismay:

„I can see why you‟d want them, but I‟m not even a citizen

of Tempest. I‟ve just been... helping out.‟

„We are fully aware of your status, Professor Summerfield.

However, a legal precedent for an emergency appointment

such as this was established in the past when Tempest was

being settled. And an independent point of view might be an

advantage in this case. There is a possibility this crime was

committed by an off-worlder, and you have extensive multi-

cultural knowledge.‟

„Look, I have this problem interacting with authority -‟

„We are also aware of that. Professor. We‟ve contacted

Dellah and checked your files. A Mr Irving Braxiatel, head of

the... ah, Theatrology department, spoke highly of your

abilities.‟

„What files? What did Irving say about me?‟

„That you seem to have a sense of honour and justice, and

a certain academic rigour, even if it is erratic. Besides, Dr Pell

assures us you could not have committed the crime. That is

a strong point in your favour.‟

„I won‟t take the job unless I get a silver star with deputy

written on it,‟ Bernice said grumpily. „You see: I‟m frivolous

and unreliable. Find somebody else.‟

„It is your right to refuse. Professor. However, such a

decision could be construed as failing to co-operate with the

police and obstructing the course of an inquiry. There might

be certain delays in processing your exit papers…‟

„That‟s sneaky and underhand!‟

„And this is murder, Professor. And I wish I was on the

Express right now so I could take charge. But I‟m not and

you are and we all have our duty to do to the best of our

abilities.‟

Bernice sighed. „OK - but you promise to keep my name out

of the news shows. I don‟t want to be fighting off reporters all

the way back to Dellah.‟

„I promise.‟

„And I still want that star when this is all over.‟

Hynds smiled thinly. „We shall see. Professor. Are there any

other objections...? No? Then will you all please stand to take

the oath.‟

When their pledges had been given and procedure satisfied,

Hynds continued:

„In your new capacity you are authorized to keep order by

appropriate force if necessary, conduct interviews and

searches and detain on suspicion, pending the arrival of the

full investigation team, which we hope will be ready for you at

Roaring Canyon. You will report progress to my office

regularly, and immediately if you discover anything vital or

require advice. This channel will be manned continuously. I

am transmitting confirmation of your appointments,

including briefing notes on the correct procedure for

cautioning subjects and conducting interviews. You must

follow these exactly. I expect your first report at midday.

Hynds out.‟

The screen darkened. Document sheets embossed with the

TPD shield began to spew out of the slot in the bottom of the

phone.

„OK, fellow Temporary Special Constables,‟ said Bernice

heavily. „What do we do next?‟

„Dr Pell and I will give you whatever support you require,”

Bassit said, „but we do have other duties to attend to.‟

„Yes,‟ agreed Pell. „Perhaps we should concentrate on

keeping the train in order. The passengers are beginning to

get restless, especially after seeing the treatment of those

who have just disembarked. They must realize we suspect

the Imnulate is still on board, therefore suspect the murderer

may be as well.‟

„That makes sense,‟ said Ferlane, scanning the police

department briefing sheets. „The Prof and I will start on the

interviews. Can we use this office?‟ he asked Bassit.

„Of course.‟

„And will you bring our interviewees in as we want them?

You‟ll put them more at ease than we will calling on them

cold.‟

„As you wish, Mr Ferlane.‟

„Who first?‟ asked Bernice.

„How about the people nearest the scene of the crime:

Klemp‟s little party and lather and daughter Sommers.‟

Montague Klemp lounged back in his chair, reading their

letter of authority.

He was dressed in another expensive suit verging on the

garish. Bernice noticed several rings on his thick but

immaculately manicured fingers. Platinum and gold had

featured heavily in their fabrication. He had a slight double

chin, and there was general softness about his body where

fat now overlaid what had been a powerful physique. But his

pale blue eyes were deep and sharp and there was nothing at

all soft about them.

Eventually he tossed the document back on the table.

„So, the police can‟t get here and they‟ve appointed you as

deputies. Well, that is entirely all right by me. I am always

happy to co-operate with the authorities,‟ he added with a

broad smile and the slightest sardonic edge to his words.

„You understand that no charge or accusation is being

made against you, that this interview is for the purposes of

information gathering only, but it will be recorded?‟ Ferlane

explained, reading from the briefing notes.

„Sure. Go ahead.‟

Bernice put a plan of First Class Car A on the table before

them.

„You are in Stateroom A, correct?‟

„That‟s right: “First Class Double A”. That‟s how I always

travel on the Express. Have the compartment on a regular

reserve.‟

„And your, er, travelling companions?‟

„My business associates Mr Brandon and Mr Deek have

their own room on the lower deck.‟ He pointed with a stubby

finger to compartment 1.

„And, uh... Ms Corzel and Ms Vale?‟

„Trinny and Debra. Nice girls... real ladies. They have the

other bedroom in my compartment. I like to take good care of

them,‟ he added meaningfully.

„I‟m sure,‟ said Bernice dryly. „Now the night before last:

when did you return to your compartment?‟

„That would‟ve been around zero thirty. Trinny and

Brandon were with me in the observation lounge. Deek was

in his room and Debra was in my compartment. We went

back to my room, Brandon checked everything was OK, and

then went downstairs. The girls and I must have turned in

about one fifteen.‟

„And did you, ah, go to sleep immediately?‟ Ferlane asked.

Klemp grinned. „Not right away. But if you‟re wondering if I

heard anything from next door, the answer‟s no.‟

„We believe the crime was committed between one thirty

and two fifteen. You‟re certain you heard nothing during that

period?‟

„I had better things to do,‟ said Klemp easily, „and then I

slept. I always sleep like a baby, you know that? Sign of a

clear conscience.‟

„Did you know Mr Costermann owned a Drell idol?‟

„Sure. Everybody in Carlsbad knew that.‟

„And were you one of the passengers Mr Costermann

invited earlier that day to view it?‟

Klemp gave a great guffaw of laughter, and had to pull out

a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. „That‟s a good one!

Costermann invite me into his room? No way. Have you

heard what he thinks about me? He‟d rather invite a puff

lizard.‟ He tucked his handkerchief away and looked at them

intently for a moment. „Cards on the table, right? People say

I‟ve done some deals which maybe crossed the line here and

there - not that I‟m admitting to anything, understand. But

speaking - what do they call it — hypothetically: suppose I

was this king of crime they say? Would I be so stupid as to

lift something from next door, even if the man in question

has said some not too complimentary things about me? I ask

you: a null move or what?‟

„The evidence suggests that somebody in the A carriage did

just that,‟ Bernice said.

„But not me, nor any of my people. Ask them.‟

„We will,‟ Ferlane promised.

„Fine. Is that all?‟

„For the moment.‟

Klemp stood up to leave, then paused. „I‟ll give you this for

free. Costermann is a tough operator. He takes no prisoners,

you know what I mean? He‟s made quite a few enemies over

the years. Some of them are on this train.‟

„You mean Denn Lankril?‟ Bernice said.

„Hah. That hothead kid? Try Lucas Sommers. He and

Costermann go way back. Ask him.‟

Klemp departed.

„Perhaps we should speak to Sommers right away,‟ Bernice

said.

„No, let‟s stick to our schedule. I‟m not chasing oft‟ on a

new tack just because Monty Klemp tosses out an inviting

new lead. Let‟s see what Klemp‟s bodyguards have to say for

themselves first.‟

Brandon and Deek independently confirmed Klemp‟s account

almost word for word and volunteered nothing else. Whether

they were involved or not, they had obviously agreed on a

unified version of events and were sticking to it. However,

Bernice did manage to extract one small piece of additional

information from Deek.

„Did you ever meet Mr Costermann‟s bodyguard Tralbet?‟

she wondered. „Can‟t be very many Nargs on Tempest.‟

Deek‟s brow furrowed as he tried to work out if she was

laying some sort of trap. Eventually he rumbled out: „Knew

of him, but that was all. Don‟t think our bosses would have

liked us to get friendly.‟

„Did you see him on the train before he was killed?‟

„May have passed him in the corridor a couple of times.

Didn‟t see him after we went to our room night before last,‟

he added defensively.

„So you said. But maybe you can help me. You know how

difficult it is for one species to read the expressions of

another. Can you tell me how Tralbet looked to you when you

did see him?‟

Deek‟s brow furrowed suspiciously. „What d‟you mean?‟

„Well, did he seem happy or sad, for instance?‟

Deek shrugged his massive shoulders. „Looked like he was

thinking real hard about something. Not easy inside.

Restless, yeah, that‟s the word.‟

After Deek had gone, Ferlane turned to Bernice. „What was

that all about?‟

„I‟d noticed Tralbet looking unhappy when I first met him.

Of course it may just have been because he knew the

Imnulate was about to be moved. But perhaps he suspected

something was going to happen.‟

„Then why didn‟t he mention it to Costermann? That was

his job, and Costermann could certainly have afforded more

security if needed.‟

„We‟d better ask him if Tralbet said anything like that.‟

„You think Tralbet was the source of the leak about the

shipment? Just because he looked preoccupied? Nargs aren‟t

the brightest people around. It could have been anything.‟

„I know it‟s a slim possibility,‟ Bernice admitted.

„Well, we can ask for any contacts Tralbet might have made

in the last month or so to be checked. I can‟t imagine he had

a wide circle of friends. But whoever did this didn‟t need

Tralbet to help them break into Costermann‟s rooms. And

once they‟d used the gas, they had Costermann‟s thumb to

open the outer lid of the MaxSec case.‟

„Exactly. They didn‟t need anybody else.‟

Ferlane frowned. „You mean... Tralbet might have been

killed on purpose? To save a payoff?‟

Bernice rubbed her eyes tiredly. „I‟m not sure I know what I

mean. It‟s just a small detail that nags me. Probably

worthless.‟

„Even if that was true, it still doesn‟t explain where the

Imnulate is or how it was taken. Even if Tralbet was in on it,

or was made to co-operate somehow, he couldn‟t have

removed it from the MaxSec case any more than Costermann

could, whatever pressure was put on him or inside

information he had. That‟s why it had the time-lock.‟

„I know. Point taken. We‟re back to our impossible crime

again.‟

Trinny and Debra were equally word perfect with their

stories, merely confirming Klemp‟s account once again. They

seemed excited and slightly frightened by what had

happened, but without any suspicion of guilt that Bernice

could detect. Both made a point of saying what a kind man

Klemp was, and how people misunderstood him. Debra,

apparently being the more intellectually gifted of the two,

spoke in a pragmatic way; Trinny out of what seemed to be a

genuine affection.

As they prattled on the fragility of their position struck

Bernice. They were like spoilt pets with their expensive

clothes and flashy jewels. What would they do when their

more obvious charms began to fade? Did they have any

deeper talents? She hoped they‟d saved ahead. The warming

thought suddenly came to her that though she‟d never have

their looks, she‟d always have St Oscar‟s. University rectors

were not fired for becoming grey and doddery, they merely

faded into the stonework and became part of the fabric. It

was good to belong to something that would grow over the

years and transcend a single brief human life.

Trinny and Debra departed in their turn. Then Bassit showed

in Lucas Sommers.

He was stiff and correct, wearing the same severe and

practical suit as before, lips set in a straight line which did

not indicate pleasure or disfavour. Bernice‟s mind went back

almost a thousand years in search of a role model. Yes, he

was a modern manifestation of an old-fashioned English

Puritan.

Before they could start he spoke up.

„Let me make it quite clear now. I will not permit you to

interview my daughter alone. She is not yet twenty and still

under my parental supervision.‟

Bernice raised an eyebrow, Ferlane nodded. „That‟s the law

on Tempest.‟

„Well, we‟ll come to that in a minute,‟ Bernice said lightly.

„Perhaps we won‟t have to trouble her for very long if you can

give us a full account of your movements the night before

last.‟

„That‟s very simple. Clarris and I had dinner and retired to

our compartment.‟

„You didn‟t go to the observation lounge at any time after

dinner?‟

„No. From previous journeys I know the company there gets

unwarrantedly boisterous in the evenings.‟

„So you went to your compartment when?‟

„About eighteen hundred.‟

„And then?‟

„I attended to some business papers and then read for a

while. Clarris washed her hair and then listened to some

music. We went to our rooms at nineteen hours, as was our

custom, and we were asleep shortly afterward.‟

„You can be sure Clarris was also asleep?‟

„I would have heard if she had been restless, if that‟s what

you mean.‟

„You were not disturbed in the night at all, say between one

thirty and two fifteen?‟

„No.‟

„And what about Clarris?‟

„I‟m sure she wasn‟t. She would have mentioned it.‟

Ferlane interjected, „Mr Sommers, you weren‟t at any time

invited into Mr Costermann‟s compartment to admire his

Drell Imnulate?‟

Sommers stiffened even further. „No.‟

„Do you by any chance know Nathan Costermann

personally?‟

„Why do you ask? What are you implying?‟

„Nothing. It‟s just that you‟re both important businessmen,

you both live in Carlsbad. You might have an idea who could

have learnt of his plan to travel on the Express. Or perhaps

you know somebody who might hold a grudge against him?‟

„We have no direct business dealings or any other form of

contact.‟

„But you do know him.‟

„Yes.‟ The single word of acknowledgement seemed to be

squeezed between Sommers‟ clenched teeth.

„Well then, how would you characterize your relationship

with him?‟

For the first time Sommers showed emotion. It was as

though a deep repressed well of anger and bitter resentment

had suddenly been opened. The change was so unexpected

that Bernice flinched back slightly.

„Shall I tell you what my relationship with Costermann is?‟

Sommers snarled. „I despise him! I wish he and not his man

had been killed the other night. Ten years ago Costermann

took my wife away from me and almost ruined my life!‟

9

DETECTION BY NUMBERS

For a moment there was silence in Bassit‟s small office.

Sommers appeared to recover himself, and when he spoke

again his voice was more controlled.

„It is deeply... distressing to talk of this, but you must

understand my situation. Ten years ago I had a beautiful and

devoted wife... or so I thought. But then Nathan Costermann

saw her and desired her, and what he desires he takes, by

whatever means necessary. Under the guise of honest

friendship he plied her with foolish little gifts and treats. I did

not realize what was happening until the day she said she

was leaving me. She said Costermann made me look... cold

and uncaring, by comparison.‟ For a moment a look of

incomprehension passed across his face, as though even

after all those years he was still baffled by this explanation.

Then his expression set again. „But I would not let her take

Clarris, and fortunately the courts agreed with me. And do

you know what Costermann did then? After a year or so,

once he had made his point and taken his pleasure, he lost

interest in my former wife. He cast her off like a piece of old

clothing.‟

„What happened to her?‟ Bernice asked.

„I don‟t know. She was disgraced. She knew I would have

nothing more to do with her. I think she left Tempest.‟ He

looked at them bleakly. „So you see I have every reason for

wanting to hurt Costermann. But I swear I did not do so. I try

to avoid even a chance meeting with him for fear I should...

lose my temper and make an unseemly spectacle. I would not

have come on this journey if I had known he would be on

board. I have made, uh. special arrangements that allow me

to check the passenger lists, because it happened once before

some years ago. But evidently this time he made his

reservation under a false name. Why in heaven did he have

to do that? Does he want to persecute me even further?‟

„There was a good reason,‟ Ferlane said gently. „It wasn‟t

with the intention of deceiving you.‟

„If you say so. It was bad enough to discover young Lankril

was on the train, but Costermann‟s presence was too much. I

have had to insist that Clarris stays in our compartment,

even for meals.‟

„That must be hard on her,‟ Bernice said automatically.

„It is only for a few days. She understands.‟

„And what have you got against Denn Lankril?‟

„He is quite unsuitable for her. Unreliable, flighty. She

formed some childish attachment to him when they were

both younger... But that is beside the point. In the matter in

hand, I can state that I stayed the whole night in my

compartment and only learnt of the crime at breakfast.

Clarris will confirm this.‟

„Then I think we‟d better call her in,‟ said Ferlane.

Clarris Sommers looked unhappily at them over the table, in

between glancing aside at her father. Her fingers twisted

nervously at the trailing ends of her auburn curls. Her dress

and timid manner made her seem younger than her actual

years, Bernice decided. Perhaps this was the influence of her

father. He‟d lost his wife, now he was clinging on to his

daughter for as long as he could, keeping her as his little girl.

„Just speak the truth, Clarris, as I‟ve always taught you,‟

Sommers reminded her sternly.

„Thank you, Mr Sommers,‟ Ferlane said. „If you could let

Clarris speak for herself.‟

„Now, Clarris,‟ said Bernice, „we want you to tell us what

you did the night before last, from when you went to bed

until you got up in the morning.‟

„Nothing,‟ she said quickly. „I mean, I was in our

compartment all the time. Father came back from dinner and

I washed my hair while he was reading. Then I listened to

some music on my headset because Father doesn‟t like the

sort of music I like - and then at nineteen hours we went to

our rooms, like we always do.‟

„And did you go to sleep immediately?‟

„Oh yes, right away.‟

„Did you hear anything at all unusual in the night?

Through the wall you share with stateroom B perhaps?‟

„I don‟t think so. I mean there are always sounds on trains,

aren‟t there? The wind shrills when we‟re going fast, and the

couplers rattle sometimes.‟

„But was there anything from next door from inside?‟

She frowned. „Well, sounds sometimes echo along the air

vents, and you can often hear the water pipes gurgle when

somebody uses them, but that‟s nothing unusual. Oh, I think

I heard the train stop at Spume Lake to unload. But I didn‟t

get up or anything. I just turned over and went back to

sleep.‟

„Would you have heard anybody moving about in your own

compartment, for instance?‟ Ferlane asked casually.

„In our compartment? But nobody came into our

compartment -‟

„Mr Ferlane,‟ Sommers interjected angrily. „I have made my

statement already concerning this. I did not leave our

compartment on the night in question.‟

Clarris was looking at Ferlane in dismay. „You can‟t believe

my father had anything to do with what happened! He

couldn‟t have... I mean, I‟m sure I would have heard it if he‟d

left at all,‟ she added quickly.

„And I know my daughter did not leave our compartment

either, Mr Ferlane,‟ Sommers said sharply, „so that is an end

to it. Now, unless you have any further questions, we shall be

leaving. Come along, Clarris.‟

„By the way,‟ Ferlane said as Sommers was ushering his

daughter out, „I forgot to ask earlier: what line of work are

you in?‟

„If you must know, my company designs customized

computer programs,‟ Sommers said.

„You pushed him a little hard,‟ Bernice said after the two had

departed.

„On his own admission he‟s got a very good motive,‟ Ferlane

said. „And that girl was keeping something back from us. Her

answers were a little too fast a couple of times.‟

„Yes,‟ Bernice agreed. „But I don‟t think it‟s anything to do

with theft and murder.‟ She scowled. „Even if she is

protecting her father because she thinks he might have gone

out in the night, how could he have actually done it? What

are the classic three requirements on which any suspicion

must rest: Means, Motive and Opportunity. With Sommers

we‟ve got Motive and perhaps Opportunity, and maybe

Means. He says he works with computers. Just how good is

he?‟

„We can ask Hynds to find out.‟

„Let‟s. Meanwhile we go on eliminating the possibilities, as

Sherlock Holmes would have it, until whatever is left must be

the truth. He told me it always worked for him.‟

Ferlane looked at her curiously, but merely said, „Who shall

we have next?‟

„What about Denn Lankril? He seems to have links with

both the Sommers and Costermann. And he‟s certainly got a

motive.‟

Denn Lankril glowered at them, arms folded across his chest.

Even his Mohican haircut seemed to bristle in defiance.

Bernice had to admit he was good-looking. Under his casual

jacket it was evident he had a narrow waist, well-muscled

arms and powerful shoulders. That he might be more than

just a slab of beefcake was suggested by a high forehead and

deep-set eyes. All in all she could understand a girl like

Clarris falling for him. For that matter she found him quite

interesting herself... She shifted suddenly in her chair and

cleared her throat.

„Why did you book a passage on the Express at such short

notice?‟ she asked.

Lankril looked surprised. „That‟s got nothing to do with

anything that‟s happened here.‟

„Let us be the judge of that. Now why are you on the train?‟

Lankril glared at them angrily. „I‟m going to visit the head

office of our bank in Thule to negotiate a loan for our farm, if

you must know.‟

„You‟ve been having some money problems?‟

„Nothing we can‟t sort out.‟

„But you blame some of them on Nathan Costermann. No -

don‟t try to deny it. You may not remember me, but I was

there when you gatecrashed his party. You made quite a

scene.‟

Lankril ran his hand impatiently through his bristling

mane. „I know. I... made a fool of myself. I said things I

shouldn‟t have done. But I‟ve nothing to do with what‟s

happened here, I swear it!‟

„What did you do the night before last?‟ Ferlane asked.

„I left the lounge about half past midnight and came

straight back to my compartment

„Your compartment being number seven?‟

„That‟s right. Anyway, I washed, changed for bed, read a

little, went to sleep. I didn‟t leave my room again until the

morning. That‟s all.‟

„Did you hear anything or anybody moving about in the

corridor outside your room at any time in the night? Say

between one twenty to two forty?‟

„What? No,‟ said Lankril stoutly.

„And you‟re sure you didn‟t step out into the corridor at all

yourself, even for a few seconds?‟

Lankril‟s jaw set firmly. „No.‟

Bernice cut in. „Do you like Clarris Sommers?‟

Lankril flushed. „She‟s got nothing to do with this!‟

„I didn‟t say she had,‟ Bernice replied mildly. „I simply asked

if you liked her. Why, did you think I was suggesting she was

involved?‟

Lankril‟s lips went white. He said nothing else of interest

during the rest of the interview.

„He‟s not telling us everything he knows either,‟ Ferlane said,

„but I can‟t make that shadow fit him. His silhouette‟s too

distinctive.‟

„In any case, this whole business suggests careful thought

and planning,‟ Bernice said. „He hadn‟t got the time to

prepare, and he certainly wouldn‟t have made such a public

scene at Costermann‟s if he was planning to steal the

Imnulate the next day. He‟s impulsive but not bloody stupid.‟

Lorrix Wilver sat primly before them. He answered all their

questions fully and precisely, in his slightly dated and

occasionally convoluted manner of speech. He was an agent

for an offworld tours company, researching Tempest to see if

the industry could be further expanded to accommodate a

greater number of alien visitors.

„Tempest has been settled most industriously by humanoid

oxygen breathers,‟ he explained. „But there are races who

would find the climate most pleasant without the need for

artificial protection. It is those we hope to bring here if the

right facilities can be provided.‟

He could tell them nothing new about the night in

question, having been in his compartment where he heard

nothing out of the ordinary, either from the upper deck or

outside in the corridor.

When they had finished, he said, „Can you please use all

your endeavours to resolve this matter with expediency and

restore the stolen item, or else I will have to contact my head

office and say I will be grievously delayed. They have already

asked me if this manner of incident is likely to occur

frequently. How should I respond?‟

„Tell them if it does they should charge extra for the trip,‟

suggested Bernice wryly. „How many people have a chance to

take part in a real live murder hunt?‟

Wilver swivelled his mobile eyes uncertainly for a moment,

then brightened in understanding. „Ah. Humour. Levity in the

face of adversity. Tum misfortune to your advantage by

applying abstract values irrationally. I will suggest this.‟

„That‟s the trouble with this business,‟ said Ferlane after

Wilver had waddled out. „You can‟t expect people to have

alibis for themselves in the middle of the night. It‟s normal

not to see anybody or step outside your compartment, so

there are not going to be any witnesses.‟

Glavel Merch handed over his business card to Bernice as

soon as he sat down.

CORAMA INTERSTELLAR

POWERED CONTOUR SENSING FURNITURE

1427 Galen Stras, Hecten City, Mondor

G. Merch - Sales Representative

She could have guessed Merch was a salesman from his

unstylish but neat suit and well-scrubbed demeanour. He

was a compact man with swarthy olive skin and thin blond

hair. His eyes were very dark with large pupils. As he calmly

sat contemplating them now, it seemed to her that he also

did not blink quite often enough. It gave him the appearance

of being intensely interested but at the same time slightly

predatory.

„Forgive me, but do furniture salesmen normally travel First

Class?‟ she asked.

Merch smiled easily. „Corama salesmen do, Professor

Summerfield. Where else would we find customers for our

exclusive range? Corama individually attuned furniture

incorporates biosensors that adjust to your mental and

physical mood from moment to moment, providing -‟

„Save it for those who can afford to listen. On a university

lecturer‟s pay I haven‟t a hope.‟

Merch smiled. „As you say. Professor. But please keep my

card to show your friends. What do you wish to know?‟

He answered their questions easily enough, but again had

nothing of any significance to add to what they already knew.

At the crucial time, he too had been alone in his

compartment asleep.

„Were you one of those who saw the Imnulate earlier in the

day?‟ Ferlane asked.

„I was,‟ Merch admitted. „I overheard Mr Costermann

talking about it to somebody else in the lounge and asked if I

might also view the item. I have some slight knowledge and

appreciation of gemcraft, and already knew of the Imnulate

by repute. Mr Costermann was most courteous and invited

me along without hesitation. He even allowed me to touch it:

a rare privilege to be so close to such a unique piece of

craftsmanship.‟ He smiled tightly. „And of course it also

allowed me the opportunity to present my card to Mr

Costermann. I had not been able to make his acquaintance

while I was visiting Carlsbad. Now perhaps you see the value

of travelling First Class, Professor?‟

The last passengers on their list were Warwick and Ellyn

Verson.

Bassit was a little late in bringing them, and Warwick

Verson apologized that they hadn‟t been quite ready. He was

very sincere and apparently genuinely sorry to have caused

any inconvenience. Bernice could see even the suspicious

Ferlane warming to them. It almost seemed a shame to have

to separate them for individual interviews. They were

practically a perfect stereotype of an ideal devoted middle-

aged couple. The sort of people you could only imagine

functioning together as a single unit. Grey but still vigorous

and cheerful. Bernice remembered the friendly smile Ellyn

had given her as she passed their table on the first day out.

When one of them finally dies, Bernice thought suddenly, the

other will quickly and quietly fade away so they will be

together again. She shivered. Didn‟t I promise myself I was

through with morbid contemplation of mortality for the trip?

On the other hand it was better to be missed than not at all.

Perhaps the prospect was not as sad as all that.

„Retired now for five years,‟ Warwick Verson said

forthrightly. „We come from First Landing City on Hanson‟s

World. Fine place. Made myself a fair sum in the construction

business there. Now we‟re seeing what we can of the rest of

the galaxy while we‟re fit enough to enjoy it.‟

His story was much the same as the rest. He and his wife

had accepted Costermann‟s open invitation to view the

Imnulate, and then had retired to their compartment. They

stayed there for the rest of the night and saw and heard

nothing untoward.

Ellyn Verson confirmed her husband‟s story exactly.

Ferlane was on the point of finishing the interview when she

added:

„The Imnulate was such a... beautiful thing. It was a

privilege to touch it. You will try to find it?‟ she asked

anxiously. „It means so much to so many people... but I know

there are also those who would misuse it.‟

„We‟ll do our best,‟ Bernice assured her. „I‟m sorry if all this

frightens you.‟

„I‟m not frightened for myself, my dear. But evil should

always be feared, don‟t you agree?‟

Ferlane looked thoughtful after she had left. „Now that was a

response we haven‟t had before. This business has really

touched her deeply.‟

„But I can‟t see either of them raiding Costermann‟s room

and stabbing Tralbet, can you?‟ Bernice said.

„No. Though I suppose if Verson was in the construction

business he must have handled cutting equipment often

enough.‟

„You‟re thinking of Tyne‟s alternative methods for removing

the Imnulate? But we know nothing like that was used, and

anyway I think we‟d have noticed if they‟d smuggled a

commercial laser borer on board in their luggage. Whatever

the method it was something more subtle than that.‟

„Well, the Versons were the last of our prime suspects. We

can‟t point to anybody who satisfies all your criteria fully.

Only Sommers comes closest.‟

„That‟s the problem,‟ Bernice said. „We can‟t exclude

anybody in the car on the grounds of opportunity alone. Even

Brandon and Deek and the Versons could theoretically be

alibiing each other. And are Klemp‟s women merely what they

seem or accomplished liars, brought along specially to give

him an alibi? A round dozen suspects, assuming we agree

neither we nor Tyne did it. Take your pick.‟

„Also a dozen witnesses who neither saw nor heard

anything significant. A thief and killer who came and went

unseen. Unless there‟s some total outsider involved it has to

be one of them, but who?‟

„Who cast that shadow in the corridor? Maybe it was an

alien with supernatural powers. Either that or they all did it,‟

Bernice said moodily.

Ferlane looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then they

both shook their heads.

„Fantasy aside, we‟ve got nothing,‟ said Ferlane. „Not even

enough to force one of them to take a veracitor test.‟

„We can ask them to volunteer when we get to Thule. That

might eliminate a few.‟

„But a veracitor can be beaten with the right training. And

even the innocent who have nothing to lose sometimes refuse

to take the test voluntarily on principle.‟

Bernice rubbed her eyes and then glanced at her watch.

„We‟ve got time enough before lunch. Let‟s talk to

Costermann again. He may remember something new.‟

Costermann was up and dressed and just gathering his

possessions together when they entered the sickbay. Bassit

was also in attendance.

„I‟ve given Mr Costermann Terbery‟s... I mean Tyne‟s

compartment,‟ he explained, „as his own rooms are sealed. I

have checked over Tyne‟s possessions and they are all

securely locked away. But I can bring them out again if you

wish.‟

„Thanks, but I think we‟re done with Tyne for the moment,‟

Ferlane said. He looked at Costermann. „How are you

feeling?‟

„Quite recovered, thank you. The doctor said I should take

things easy for a day or two, but otherwise there should be

no lasting effects.‟

„We were wondering if you‟d remembered anything else

about the other night.‟

Costermann shrugged. „Nothing at all. Sorry. Haven‟t you

made any progress?‟

Bernice said carefully, „We‟ve been questioning all the other

passengers in A car, and one man certainly seemed to bear

you a grudge. Lucas Sommers?‟

Costermann nodded sadly. „Yes, I might have guessed it

would be him. He was one reason why I was keeping to my

compartment rather more than usual. I try to avoid him if

possible.‟

„Apparently he does the same,‟ said Ferlane.

„And well he might. Remember when I met you in the

lounge the first afternoon out from Carlsbad, Professor? Well,

that was the first time I‟d ventured out of my compartment

since I boarded, and only when I knew he‟d gone back to his

own room. Of course, that evening I was sure he wouldn‟t be

in the lounge because there were too many people having fun

for his liking. In any case by that time I was getting tired of

skulking about.‟ He looked at them intently, i don‟t know

what he told you, but I can guess he cast me as some kind of

monster for breaking up his marriage. Well, for the record,

Jyneen, his wife, was bored sick of him and his computer

programs. Remorseless unimaginative routine dullness

should be classed as mental cruelty. I wouldn‟t be surprised

if Clarris doesn‟t leave him as well as soon as she has the

chance.‟

„And Jyneen Sommers ran to you?‟

„I happened to be available, but it could have been

anybody. Naturally I took her in. I don‟t pretend it was purely

out of altruism. She was a very beautiful woman and wanted

a proper rewarding relationship. But she‟d been ruined by

her years with Sommers. She soon changed from being a

timid grey creature, almost frightened to enjoy herself, to a

sort of sensual glutton wanting to experience every pleasure

that she could. Trying to make up for lost time I suppose.

Anyway she began to make a spectacle of herself and I found

I couldn‟t reason with her any more. Finally, I had to tell her

we couldn‟t continue together. She had a minor mental

breakdown and soon alter left Carlsbad. I don‟t know where

she is now.‟

„And Denn Lankril also bears you no good will. He seems to

think you went back on a promise to guarantee a loan.‟

Costermann snorted. „I didn‟t give any firm promise. The

boy took my provisional agreement as a definite commitment.

Well, for his father‟s sake, maybe I‟ll speak to him again once

this is all over. But he must try to be more reasonable. Now,

if you‟ll excuse me, I want to get settled in my new room.

Rather ironic that it belongs to a thief, isn‟t it?‟

„Only a potential thief,‟ Bernice pointed out.

„Once a thief, always a thief, Professor.‟

They watched as Bassit and a „server carrying the bags

escorted Costermann through to Car A. Wilver and the

Versons passed him in the corridor and complimented him

on his recovery.

„Well, we‟d better report back what we have to Hynds,‟

Bernice said.

„Then what? Interview everybody on the train?‟

„No. But we might have to search it. I don‟t see what else is

left.‟

Ferlane sighed. „I agree. But Bassit‟s not going to like it.‟

Ferlane had judged Bassit‟s response accurately. But Hynds

agreed that a complete search was the obvious next step to

take, and so he reluctantly acquiesced.

Before lunch they made a brief stop at the small settlement

of Mist Mire. Once again nobody boarded the train, and,

fortunately, only inanimate cargo was due to be unloaded.

They saw TGR workers start to open the containers for

examination even before they left the station.

Early that afternoon Bassit made a public announcement.

„I regret to inform passengers that it is necessary to carry

out a complete search of the entire train to confirm whether

the Drell idol, stolen two days ago, is still on board. The

search will be conducted by the staff and specially appointed

police officers. All passengers must remain in their own

compartments while their car is being checked. You will also

be asked to identify and open any personal baggage on

request. Any persons with items in the freight cars will also

be asked to open them, and may be present while they are

examined.

„Trans-Global Railways apologize for any inconvenience this

may cause, but request your co-operation and understanding

during this difficult time. Thank you.‟

Bernice, Ferlane, Pell, Bassit and a team of stewards,

together with Yorland‟s engineering assistants, searched the

train. Every locker, maintenance panel and duct cover that

could possibly conceal an object the size and shape of the

Imnulate was opened, checked, then sealed.

„What about those?‟ Bernice asked Yorland, pointing to a

small cover plate in a main corridor ceiling.

„Opens on to a cable duct. Power, telephone and intercom.

Same in every car. But they‟re only twelve centimetres deep,

so your idol couldn‟t fit inside.‟

„Unless somebody smashed it to fragments,‟ Ferlane said

darkly.

Bernice hesitated. „Perhaps we should consider that

possibility.‟

„I don‟t think so,‟ said Yorland. „I know something about

materials and what it takes to break them. Smashing a

crystal of that size thoroughly would take time and make

plenty of noise, apart from cutting up whatever surface it was

resting on pretty badly. You couldn‟t do that on this train

without being noticed.‟

Crew and passenger rooms were examined alike. The

dining cars and lounges were checked, and even the big club

chairs were overturned and their underlining‟s pulled open to

check nothing had been concealed inside them.

The searchers received a stream of heavily accented abuse

for disturbing the order of his kitchens from Jean-Louis, the

Express’s chef. He was seated before the keyboard of his food

synthesizer beginning preparations for the evening‟s dinner;

a maestro about to perform a culinary symphony. Bernice

thought having a temperamental chef from New France on

board was too good to be true, but Bassit assured her Jean-

Louis was the real thing. He‟d been with the company for

eight years and genuinely cared for nothing outside his own

craft.

When they reached Tyne‟s former compartment,

Costermann welcomed them in with a wry grin. „Of course,

you‟d better check in here just in case.‟

He sounded hearty, but Bernice thought he looked slightly

grey and drawn, as though a reaction was setting in.

„I‟ll be all right,‟ he assured her. „Sat up in the lounge for a

while. Everybody was very kind. But I do feel a little tired.

Apparently it takes time to get that gas out of the system.‟

„Do you want the doctor?‟

„No, thank you. I‟ll call him if necessary, but simple rest is

the answer.‟

They left him and continued on down the train, searching

both crew and passengers‟ quarters, baggage cars and service

units. When they finished in a car, a steward was placed on

guard at its communicating door with orders to check any

passenger or crewperson carrying any piece of luggage that

could possibly contain the Imnulate. During six hours they

worked methodically from the driver‟s cab to the last

compartment of the tail service car, finishing only after

darkness had once again enshrouded the train.

And they found nothing.

„If we were looking for anything smaller I‟d agree that we

might have overlooked it,‟ Bernice told Hynds over the

viewphone, when they reported back exhausted and slightly

disconsolate that evening. „But there‟s no way we could have

missed a substantial object the size of the Imnulate. It‟s

simply not on the train.‟

„Well, that may be good news for you,‟ Hynds said. „Perhaps

it will reassure your passengers. We‟ll have to check Spume

Lake again. It seems to be the only place it could have been

taken off.‟

Bassit made another public announcement to confirm their

results, adding encouragingly that this suggested whoever

was responsible must have been an outsider who had slipped

aboard unseen, and who almost certainly left the train within

an hour of committing the crime.

The mood on the Express lightened perceptibly, but Bernice

could not share it. The search party was dismissed. Bernice

heard Yorland depart muttering half to himself: „But how

could they have got it off the train?‟

From the diary of Professor Bernice Summerfield

We‟re all tired and pretty dispirited: Ferlane especially who‟s

really taking it personally. That much effort deserves to have

been rewarded, but instead we‟ve got another mystery. Not

only how the Imnulate was stolen, but where it‟s been

hidden. It‟s obvious Yorland doesn‟t really believe it could

have been taken off the train, but what other possibility is

there? Could somebody else have used Tyne‟s method? But

the trail seems to go dead at the coupler module between

cars A and B. Somebody else might have picked up the

Imnulate from there, but they‟d have to have worked quickly

to jettison it before the panic started. And surely they‟d have

been seen carrying a suspicious bundle or trying to open any

of the outer doors. And even if you can fool the alarms,

opening a hatch is going to let in outside air. And that smell

is very persistent so you‟d soon notice... except the suit

lockers!

Did Yorland check them?

Later. I‟ve just talked to Yorland over the intercom. Yes, he

did check them, and every suit in them. And he reminded me

there was no way the big service hatch could have been

opened at speed without tearing it off. Maybe I‟ll give up the

amateur detective business.

Will the professionals do better when they come on board

tomorrow?

Extract ends

A steady knocking at her door jerked Bernice awake. Ochre

light was filtering in between the blinds. The clock said seven

ten local time. She hadn‟t set the alarm. She was going to

miss breakfast. The knocking became more urgent.

„Coming... coming.‟

She dragged herself into her dressing gown and opened the

door. Bassit was standing there, and the expression on his

face revived her like a douche of ice water.

„It‟s Mr Merch,‟ he said simply. „He‟s been murdered.‟

10

UNDER PRESSURE

This time there was a white-faced steward guarding Merch‟s

door, Bassit evidently having learnt his lesson about

restricting access to the scene of the crime. But otherwise it

was like a macabre re-enactment of the morning two days

before: Bernice still in her night clothes, watching Pell

bending over a still form lying face down on the floor. Ferlane

pushing his way into the room after her, cursing under his

breath. From the corridor came the babble of passengers‟

voices.

„I found him myself,‟ Bassit explained woodenly. „I had

noticed Mr Merch was an early riser and one of the first to

come through for breakfast. I was just passing his door... and

it seemed too quiet. When I knocked and got no response, I

used my pass key... and found him like this.‟

Merch appeared to have died from a blow to the back of his

head which had cracked his skull. His solid metal-banded

business case lay open on the floor beside him. Bernice could

see blood and hair on one corner. Again the killer had to use

a makeshift weapon. Was that significant?

However, Merch‟s room was far less tidy than Costermann‟s

had been. Somebody had systematically ransacked it.

Drawers were pulled out and clothes strewn across the floor.

Even the bedding had been turned over. A snow of

documents were littered about. Bernice could see several

copies of brochures extolling the virtues of Corama-powered

furniture.

Who was going to tell them Merch had made his last sale?

Fragments of plastic crunched underfoot. Merch‟s phone had

been shattered and silvery slivers of circuitry joined the other

detritus.

Ferlane knelt down beside the remains for a moment, then

examined the open business case, taking care not to touch it.

Bernice realized a cover panel on the standard integral

computer was loose. Ferlane found a pen amid the litter and

carefully lifted the panel aside. There was a void within where

the memory core should have been.

„Somebody was looking for something Merch knew,‟ he

speculated. „Maybe that‟s why he was killed. But it was

something that he might also have hidden among his

printouts or in his phone or office case memory. So they were

torn out.‟

Pell stood up and looked at them. „Killed by a single blow to

the head. No other signs of injury, though I‟ll have to make a

more detailed examination to confirm that. The case is the

obvious weapon. The corner matches the shape of the wound

and I would say it was heavy enough if swung vigorously.‟

„Time of death?‟ Bernice asked automatically, realizing they

were inexorably heading down the same dismal path once

more.

„Between midnight and two, I‟d estimate.‟ He paused,

evidently mirroring her own thoughts, then added, „Shall I

find some more tape and a camera?‟

Bernice recognized the strained tone in his voice, and

reminded herself again how hard it was to read alien

expressions. She‟d been taking him for granted, but Pell was

no hardbitten forensic surgeon, and he must have been just

as badly affected by this second violent death as they were.

Especially as he would shortly be performing another

unscheduled autopsy.

„If you would. Doc,‟ said Ferlane. He looked at Bassit who

was standing like an effigy with a look of blank dismay on his

face. „And you‟d better call Hynds. Tell him to stop wasting

his time with Spume Lake. Unless this is an incredible

coincidence, it looks like whoever killed Tralbet is still on

board.‟

They stepped outside Merch‟s room. In the corridor were

the rest of the occupants of Car A, being held back by

stewards. As Bernice scanned their anxious, incredulous

faces, she wondered if she was looking into the eyes of a

murderer.

Half an hour later, after having dressed and snatched a

sandwich, Bernice and Ferlane were examining Merch‟s

cabin. His body had been removed, leaving behind only a

tape outline and a dark stain of blood.

„This cabin‟s a mess, forensically,‟ Ferlane said. „Worse

than Costermann‟s. We were both in here yesterday after

tramping through several other compartments, Merch

himself was in and out and the public corridor is only the

other side of the door, so almost any bio traces might have

been carried in here quite innocently.‟

Apart from Merch‟s phone and business case, nothing else

appeared to be damaged or missing. There was no

unnecessary destruction. Evidently the perpetrator had been

careful not to make any noise. Some of Merch‟s brochures

were crumpled and indented with shards of plastic where

they had been wrapped around the phone to muffle the

sounds of its case being broken.

„Too smart to use a heel and simply stamp on it,‟ Ferlane

observed. „So no tell-tale fragments embedded in anybody‟s

soles for us to find.‟

They examined the cabin lock carefully, but could see no

sign of it having been forced.

„Did he let his murderer in voluntarily,‟ Bernice wondered,

„or was he forced to open up at the point of a gun?‟

„Nobody would have dared risk trying to force their way in

or shoot out the lock. The whole car would have heard them.‟

„But who would he open a door to in the middle of the night

on this train after what‟s happened?‟

„Somebody he knew and trusted... or else somebody he

didn‟t view as a threat.‟

„Or somebody he was expecting?‟ suggested Bernice.

Ferlane scowled. „It‟s possible. But who and why?‟

„I don‟t know, but I‟ll bet he wasn‟t selling a powered chair

at two in the morning.‟

„And I bet the door monitors will show nobody entered or

left the car during the crucial period.‟ He shook his head

wearily. „We‟re going to have to interview all the usual

suspects all over again.‟

„Except now there are only eleven of them,‟ Bernice pointed

out.

There was a knock at the door. It was Bassit bearing

several sheets of printouts. „I have some information that has

just come through which may be of interest.‟

„This one‟s about Tralbet,‟ said Ferlane, scanning the first

set of documents rapidly. „The police followed up our hunch

that he might be involved in the theft. They found several

round-figure lump-sum deposits paid into his account in

Carlsbad during the last six months using open credit

transfer cards. Pretty well untraceable and nothing to do with

his legitimate salary. Very suspicious.‟

Bernice looked at the tape outline on the floor. „Perhaps

they‟d better make the same sort of checks on Merch.‟

„That won‟t be so easy with him being an off-worlder, but

we can ask. Will you do that, Bassit?‟

„Certainly, Mr Ferlane. There is also this.‟ He handed over a

second printout.

„Interesting,‟ said Ferlane. „Apparently Lucas Sommers was

quite a hi-powered computer program designer and systems

analyst before he took over an executive position in his

company.‟

„As you say: interesting,‟ Bernice agreed. „What do you

think of Lucas Sommers as a possible suspect, Bassit? He‟s

travelled with you before, so you know him better than we

do.‟

„I hardly like to think of any of our passengers as potential

murderers. Professor. I do not see Mr Sommers planning

such a cold-blooded crime, even though he might be

intellectually capable of it. I think he would feel it...

undignified. I can believe he might momentarily lose his self-

control and do something rash... but that does not seem to fit

the circumstances of the original crime, does it?‟

„No,‟ Bernice agreed.

„And besides, what motive would he have for doing this to

poor Mr Merch? Which reminds me: Dr Pell asks if you would

go along to his room. Apparently he has discovered

something unusual about Mr Merch.‟

„That was quick,‟ said Bernice.

„I think he feels speed is of the essence. Professor.‟

Merch‟s body was decently covered by anonymous white

sheets when they entered the surgery. All but his dark eyes,

now staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. Pell tapped one of

them with a medical probe. There was a tiny hard chink.

„Polarized and filtered lens inserts,‟ he explained. „They may

possibly be there to correct some optical problem, but more

likely they were to allow him to function under unusual

lighting conditions. These sort of prostheses are sometimes

used by people working for long periods on worlds where

their eyes would find the natural light too bright or too dim.‟

„But they could also allow him to make use of infrared or

ultraviolet light sources, so he could see in the dark,‟ Ferlane

suggested.

„Perhaps. I do not have the facilities to test their precise

properties here, but it is a possibility.‟

„Just the useful sort of trick no good thief would be

without?‟ Bernice said.

„Could be,‟ agreed Ferlane.

„You realize this lets Tyne out of the picture,‟ Bernice said.

„Unless we accept there was a whole gang of them: Tyne and

Merch and Tralbet and “X”, who have now fallen out with

each other and are in the process of bumping each other off.‟

„We don‟t know Merch is part of any gang. There was

nothing incriminating in his room. The only things we know

were taken were those memory cores.‟

„But who knows what else was there before X paid him a

visit? Something small enough to have been overlooked in

yesterday‟s search?‟ Bernice wondered.

„Maybe. What next? Checking if the other passengers saw

or heard anything - again?‟

„Suppose we check the door monitor recordings for last

night with Yorland, just to make sure there was no intruder

from another car. Though I doubt we‟ll even get shadows this

time.‟

The news of Merch‟s death spread along the train, with

rumour and speculation filling in and then overflowing the

gaps between the facts. Lyn Masco listened to her travelling

companions‟ reactions with mounting despair. Her living

depended on the fact that a large proportion of the

population was unaware of just how stupid and gullible it

was, but for once she wished that was not true.

„We should all get off at the next station,‟ said a man in a

flower-patterned shirt, with an expensive camera hanging on

its strap across his chest, bobbing every time he waved his

hands in emphasis. „The railway company should find us a

hotel until all this is over.‟

„Where are the police when you need them?‟ shrilled a

woman in a large and unnecessary hat.

„I heard about the police on Sestor Three when they found

this headless -‟ Zara began.

„They‟ve appointed those special constables,‟ Lyn cut in

quickly, aware of the irony of her defending the law. „I‟m sure

they‟re doing everything they can.‟

There was a rising babble of voices and a group of half a

dozen determined-looking men came striding through the

carriage from the Economy Class cars. The style of their

clothes suggested they were locals. A steward was trailing

after them, bleating futilely, „Will you please return to your

compartments, gentlemen. Your tickets don‟t allow you to -‟

One of the larger of the party turned and pushed him so

hard that he staggered against the wall. Lyn was alarmed to

see that a couple of them were carrying holstered guns. They

glared belligerently at the startled Tourist Class passengers.

„What are they doing up in the front there?‟ one of them

demanded.

„We don‟t know,‟ said the flower-shirted man. „Our steward

just says we should keep calm.‟

„It shouldn‟t be allowed!‟ said the unnecessary hat in

general condemnation.

„But they‟ve still got a man locked up, haven‟t they?‟

growled one of the newcomers. „How many more is he going

to kill?‟

„If he‟s been locked up, he can‟t be responsible for this

second death, can he?‟ Lyn said, trying to inject a note of

sanity into the argument.

„How do we know? They aren‟t telling us anything.‟

„Perhaps there‟s nothing to tell yet,‟ Lyn said.

„He‟s First Class, isn‟t he,‟ said the belligerent man. „They

go carefully with them because they know the right people.

Money talks. They‟ll pussyfoot while people die.‟

„Yeah, how long before it‟s one of us? We‟ve got families

back there.‟

„We don‟t like this any more than you do,‟ said Flower Shirt

forthrightly, gathering a murmur of agreement from several

other tourists and locals.

„Well then, prove it. Everybody who wants answers come

with us. We‟ll talk to whoever‟s in charge face to face!‟

„I suppose it‟s not an unreasonable demand,‟ said Flower

Shirt.

„After all, we‟re paying!‟ said the unnecessary hat.

„And if we don‟t get some answers we‟ll block the doors!‟

„Right. Come on!‟

The angry party marched away along the corridor up the

train, gathering new recruits along the way. Zara stared after

them, open-mouthed. „Well really...!‟

Lyn grabbed the dazed steward. „Call through,‟ she shouted

at him. „Warn them they might try to get to the prisoner.‟

Visions of ancient lynch mobs burnt in her mind.

Bernice was right. The recordings revealed that during the

crucial period only „servers going about their regular duties

passed through the A Car doors.

„Any more luck with enhancing our shadows?‟ Ferlane

asked Yorland.

„No. Sorry. The second one still looks like a crooked snake

bobbing up and down. I can‟t even tell how far along the

corridor it is without knowing its actual size. If it‟s got a

rough irregular surface, like fur or hair, then it‟ll look more

blurred and distant. When we get to Thule the experts can

work on the original recording and set up proper calibration

tests in the corridor itself.‟

The latest set of recordings ended and Yorland switched off

the screen. Bernice and Ferlane had risen to leave when

Yorland said, „By the way. It may be nothing, but Merch

called in one of my men yesterday evening.‟

„Oh, why?‟

„Said his phone was giving him trouble and he couldn‟t get

an outside line. He wondered if we‟d interfered with any of

the room comm panels when we made the search. My man

checked the lines, but they were all clear. Could have been

an unusually high burst of storm static I suppose, but our

internal systems are pretty well insulated and nothing else

was affected that I know of.‟

„Odd,‟ agreed Bernice. „Probably not important, but I‟d like

to -‟

The intercom beeped urgently. Yorland switched it on and

Bassit‟s anxious voice poured out, for once stripped of its

normal calm. „Please come to Service 2 immediately... I‟m

afraid there‟s going to be a riot!‟

The corridor of Service 2 outside the sickbay was a confused

throng of people. Bernice and Ferlane pushed their way

through the A and B car occupants and found Bassit, Pell

and a couple of frightened stewards standing in a shrinking

space between them and a larger number of Economy and

Tourist Class passengers. Most were waving their fists and

shouting angrily, „Keep them out!‟, and „Where‟s the killer?‟

More ominously a few were holding handguns.

The idiots, Bernice thought, taking a deep breath and

dashing forward.

„Well done, well done!‟ she shouted loudly and clearly,

clapping her hands in a mockery of vigorous applause.

The cries of the opposing packs of passengers faded into a

puzzled murmur.

„That‟s right,‟ she continued, waving her arms around in

sweeping expansive gestures to hold their attention on her.

„The solution to all our problems. Why didn‟t we think of it

before? There‟s a killer on board, so let‟s shoot each other to

make his job easier! Better yet, blow a few holes in the walls

and contaminate the whole carriage!‟

One of the gun-toters retorted angrily: „This is only a mark

two - it won‟t hole a pressure hull.‟

„But can you be a hundred per cent certain of that? What if

you hit a window? You might be happy to chance it, but do

your friends feel the same? They might have better things to

do than throw their lives away along with a bunch of

hotheaded fools.‟ She shrugged expressively, as though

washing her hands of the whole business. „Still, that‟s up to

you. Give me two minutes to get along to the suit lockers and

you can please yourselves. Any last messages you want me to

take to your families?‟

There were still angry mutterings, but the dangerous

single-minded mob unity that had ruled them moments

before was now blunted and divided. Ferlane stepped forward

to take advantage of the confusion Bernice had sown.

„We are officially appointed police officers. Anybody not

holstering their guns after a count of five will be arrested for

threatening behaviour and disturbing the peace. Do you

understand me? One... two... three...‟ There was a flurry of

movement and the weapons vanished. „That‟s better. Now

Chief Steward Bassit will explain what is going on here, and

you will be quiet while he is speaking.‟

Bassit cleared his throat, recovering a measure of his

normal composure. „I‟m afraid these passengers have heard

of Mr Merch‟s death, and want to know what steps are being

taken to catch his killer. Some of them also want cars A and

B sealed off from the rest of the train, which we cannot

permit for safety reasons.‟

„That‟s right!‟ one of the Economy Class protesters shouted.

„Lock them all up until we get to Thule!‟

„But everything‟s happened in the A car!‟ a B car passenger

replied desperately. „We don‟t want to be shut up with them.‟

„Too bad!‟ came the callous reply. „We don‟t want to be

murdered in our beds.‟

Almost a class war, Bernice thought in despair. The

stresses were showing in Tempest‟s supposedly homogeneous

society as she had feared. Aloud she said, „We are taking

measures to ensure your safety for the rest of the trip.‟

„Like what?‟

„A curfew and guards patrolling the corridors all night,‟ said

Ferlane quickly. „Will you volunteer?‟ The angry speaker

seemed to shrink back into the crowd.

„Look, we don‟t know who the killer is yet,‟ Bernice said

reasonably, „but we‟re doing everything we can to find him...

or her. All this is just wasting our time. Go back to your

compartments and let us get on with our job.‟

„What about the man you‟ve got shut away?‟ somebody else

shouted, stepping forward angrily. Wilver, who had been

standing behind Bernice, promptly thrust out his furled

umbrella point first, making the man skip inelegantly

backwards again.

„He was a suspect at first,‟ Bernice admitted, „but we now

believe he is innocent. He certainly didn‟t kill Glavel Merch.‟

„If he‟s innocent, why haven‟t you let him go?‟ the protester

demanded, eyeing Wilver‟s umbrella warily.

„Because he may still be charged with some minor offences.

Besides, we haven‟t any spare rooms in First Class,‟ Bernice

rapped back smartly. „Are you volunteering to find him a

space in Economy? No? Then be quiet and go back to your

own cars.‟

Just then Yorland and a couple of engineers pushed their

way through the crowd from up the corridor carrying long-

handled wrenches. Out of the corner of her eye Bernice saw

Klemp, Brandon and Deek appear at the back of the crowd,

the massive figures of the bodyguards adding weight to her

words.

Gradually, accompanied by resigned murmurs, the crowd

began to disperse and file away along the corridors.

Wilver paused to tip his hat to Bernice. „You acted with

great promptitude,‟ he said. „Such disorder cannot be

tolerated. Please do not hesitate to call on me if you require

any further assistance.‟

„Thanks.‟

One woman pushed her way between those heading back

to the tourist cars and came up to Bernice. Her full figure

was half hidden by primly cut clothes, and a slightly naked

look around her eyes suggested she normally wore more

make-up. She looked tired, though her dark eyes were still

keen and sharp.

„The man you‟re holding... is he all right?‟ she asked

hesitantly.

„He‟s fine,‟ Bernice said. „Why do you want to know?‟

„I was just... worried. Please find out who really did this as

soon as you can.‟ And she walked quickly away.

In a minute there were only the train staff and Klemp‟s men

left. Bernice let out her breath with relief and grinned at

them. „Nice looming,‟ she complimented Brandon and Deek.

„Very stylish. I bet you practise for ages to get just the right

air of quiet menace.‟

Klemp gave a rasping chuckle. „You are an original.

Professor. Your talents are wasted on the dead past.‟

„It suits me. And sometimes the past can get pretty lively.‟

„Have it your way. Just ask if you want the boys‟ help

again.‟

„That‟s very public-spirited of you,‟ said Ferlane.

„I want this mess cleared up soonest,‟ Klemp said flatly. „I

don‟t care to be on the suspect list for theft and murder. It‟s

bad for business.‟

Klemp and his men strode away. Ferlane smiled after them

for a moment, but turned a grimmer face to Bernice. „I‟m

going to wear my gun until this is over. I should think we‟ve

got the right in the circumstances. Can you shoot?‟

„I get by,‟ Bernice admitted, „but as I don‟t usually need to

go armed to lecture on archaeology, I didn‟t bring a gun with

me.‟

„Then ask Bassit to open up the locker and give you a

company issue pistol.‟ He glanced speculatively at Bassit and

Pell. „What about you?‟

The two shook their heads.

„I don‟t think it would be appropriate to our positions,‟ said

Bassit. „We still want to try to calm the passengers. But in

the circumstances I can certainly provide the Professor with a

weapon.‟

„And then I suppose we start questioning everybody in Car

A - again!‟ said Bernice wearily.

It was a virtual repetition of their previous series of

interviews, with one small difference. Costermann, now in

Tyne‟s old compartment opposite Merch‟s, did remember

being disturbed by something in the night.

„I‟m sorry, I don‟t know what the sound was,‟ he said, as

they sat around Bassit‟s desk. „Maybe it was from outside my

door. I‟d taken some pills Pell had given me and I was really

still half asleep. I didn‟t even note the time.‟ He blinked

tiredly at Bernice. „You‟re next door, did it wake you?‟

„No, I didn‟t hear anything. Go on.‟

„Well, I just got up, opened my door and looked out into the

corridor. Probably not a sensible thing to do in the

circumstances, but as I said, I wasn‟t thinking clearly.‟

„What about Merch‟s door?‟

„Oh, it was closed, I‟m sure of that. Anyway, after a minute,

seeing and hearing nothing alarming, I went back to bed. If

I‟d been more alert I might have thought of calling the

steward, but as it was...‟ He shrugged.

„Did you remember anything unusual about Merch?‟

Ferlane asked. „Did he show special interest in the Imnulate

or the MaxSec case when he first saw it, for instance?‟

„Not the case that I recall. He did show more than a passing

interest in the Imnulate,‟ Costermann admitted. „But I think

that was just to ingratiate himself. He came up to me in the

lounge yesterday and at first was very sympathetic, asking

how I was feeling like everybody else had done. But I

gradually realized he was trying to sell me one of his chairs to

help me “relax”. I was annoyed at the time, thinking he was

being rather insensitive under the circumstances... but it

would be churlish to make an issue of it now. He was just

trying to do his job, I suppose. Sorry I can‟t tell you more.‟

Bernice could see he still looked tired and grey-faced. He

must have read her glance, for he half smiled.

„It‟s hard to admit one is becoming old, isn‟t it? Five years

ago I would have shaken this sort of thing off without a

second thought.‟

Yawning, he left them.

Nobody else they questioned had left their rooms, or seen

or heard anything of significance during the night. All of

them had met Merch, or, rather, he had made a point of

meeting them, but they had tended to avoid him once they

realized he was trying to sell them powered chairs. Had any

of them noticed him displaying unusual interest in the

Imnulate? Warwick Verson thought he had looked at it

intently. Had he asked about the MaxSec case? Not that he

could recall.

They finished the interviews and Bassit came back in. He

enquired politely if they had made any progress.

„Not so that you‟d notice,‟ Bernice admitted. „Any of them

strike you as likely suspects?‟

„I try not to have opinions about passengers, Professor.

Except that I prefer those with good manners. Like the

Versons, for instance. Such a nice couple. They even warn

me in advance when they will be missing a meal. And they

apologized so nicely for being late for your first interview.

Such consideration is rare.‟

„Oh. How many meals have they missed?‟ Bernice asked.

„Four, I believe.‟

„Have they been sick?‟

„I don‟t think so. They have not been to the doctor. Perhaps

it‟s their way of adjusting to local time.‟

The phone beeped. It was Commissioner Hynds‟ office,

confirming there would be an investigation team waiting for

them at Roaring Canyon.

„When will we get there?‟ Bernice asked Bassit after the

call.

„We‟re running late due to the headwind... about

lunchtime.‟

„Anybody getting off?‟ wondered Ferlane.

„Several from Economy and Tourist Class and two from Car

B.‟

„Well, they‟re not our prime suspects. I suppose they‟ll be

taken care of properly,‟ said Ferlane.

„Same treatment as before I should think,‟ said Bernice.

„Person and baggage searches, then interviews.‟

Ferlane grimaced. „They won‟t like that.‟

„But they‟ll be off the train,‟ Bernice pointed out, „and they

might think that‟s worth almost any inconvenience.‟

They finished their round of interviews by paying Tyne a visit.

„How long do I have to stay cooped up in here?‟ he

complained as soon as they unlocked his door.

„Until we reach Thule, where you may still be charged with

planning a robbery and travelling under a false identity,‟

Ferlane said.

„Don‟t knock it,‟ Bernice advised him. „Remember there‟s a

killer on board. You‟re probably safer in here.‟

Tyne appeared to see the logic of this for he brightened

slightly. „All right, what do you want to know?‟

He answered their questions promptly, and, as far as

Bernice could judge, honestly.

No, he had never heard of Merch before the first day on the

train, and as far as he knew he‟d never met him under any

other alias or disguise. Yes, he thought he remembered

seeing Merch in the lounge after the latter had seen the

Imnulate, and perhaps Merch was slightly quieter and less

outgoing than he had been earlier. Thoughtful or

preoccupied, perhaps? Maybe, but who could say what that

meant. Besides, Tyne had too much on his own mind at the

time to pay close attention. Bernice showed Tyne still

pictures taken from the door monitor record showing the

mysterious shadows. Did he recognize either of them? No.

Did they resemble any alien race he‟d ever come across? No,

he was certain he‟d never seen anything like them before.

„I think that‟ll be all for now,‟ Bernice said at length.

„You‟ll be sure to tell the police how I co-operated when we

get to Thule?‟ Tyne said slightly anxiously.

„We‟ll tell them you‟re a model citizen,‟ Ferlane promised.

They were entering Tempest‟s temperate zone now, and

passing through country even more mountainous than that

around Carlsbad. The monorail line arched across dark

chasms and plunged through laser-cut tunnels. Where

external contours had to be followed the line was supported

by pylons projecting horizontally from the rock faces. Sheer

peaks contrasted starkly with valleys of smoothly contoured

arches and undercut walls, shaped by thousands of years of

gentler but still remorseless sandblasting and water erosion.

In some of these more sheltered hollows trees grew almost

fifteen metres tall: giants by Tempest standards.

„Ten minutes to Roaring Canyon,‟ came the announcement.

Bernice and Ferlane watched the departing passengers in

the Economy cars eagerly gathering their handbaggage and

commiserating with their less fortunate fellows. Both Bernice

and Ferlane were conspicuously armed now, but there was

no trouble.

The city of Roaring Canyon was excavated out of an

isolated rock butte in the middle of a sheer-sided canyon five

or six kilometres wide which faded away into the haze beyond

it. On the summit of the butte Bernice could see a cluster of

domes. The silver thread of the monorail line seemed to stride

across the jungle-clad canyon floor, carried clear of the wind-

tossed tree-tops by double-strutted pylons twenty metres tall.

The butte grew more distinct as they raced towards it, sides

speckled with ports and lightwell apertures. The line

vanished into the dark mouth of a tunnel in its base ringed

by pulsing artificial lights. Suddenly they were inside and

decelerating smoothly, sheltered from the perpetual buffeting

of the wind. Steam jets and sets of ballooning airseal gaskets

passed the windows. Then the tunnel opened into a brightly

lit station and they glided to a halt beside the platform.

On which a riot appeared to be in progress.

An angry mob was confronting a ragged line of uniformed

men who stood between them and the train. As the Express

appeared the anger of the protesters redoubled, and even

through its insulated walls, Bernice could hear the rise and

fall of their voices and the thud of stamping feet. It‟s

spreading, she thought grimly.

From inside the train came a sympathetic murmur of rising

alarm as she and Ferlane ran along the corridor to Bassit‟s

office. Bassit was speaking to his viewphone as they entered.

On the screen was a somewhat bedraggled woman in a

Proctor‟s uniform.

„...it‟s no use, Mr Bassit,‟ she was saying in a weary but

determined voice. „News of the second murder has been

carried on all the news channels. The station is virtually

under siege. The people won‟t let anybody get off the train,

unless they‟re all put into custody at once. I know it sounds

irrational but that‟s how frightened they are. But we can‟t do

that to thirty-odd innocent people merely on suspicion. In

any case we haven‟t enough secure accommodation. Then

there have been fights with others who have relatives or

friends on board and who want them off and out of danger.

It‟s a nightmare... I‟ve never seen anything like it.‟

Ferlane introduced himself and said, „Just give us the men

we were promised and we‟ll keep going.‟

„I‟m sorry, but I simply can‟t spare them. I need them here

to keep order. Frankly I don‟t think the people would stand

having the train doors opened. They‟d think somebody was

trying to leave. You‟ll have to go on as you are.‟

„But this is a scheduled stop,‟ Bassit protested. „What will

head office say?‟

„They‟ll say you had no other choice and were only acting

under police advice,‟ Bernice said. „Unless you want your

train smashed up. Make the announcement to the

passengers and tell the driver full steam ahead.‟

„Pardon?‟

„Never mind. We‟ll work something else out, but for now

just get us out of here.‟

„Do it,‟ Ferlane confirmed.

As they headed back down the train to mollify the angry

passengers, he added, „Now I know what it‟s like to be

carrying some sort of plague!‟

11

HEAVY WEATHER

Bernice frowned at the view through the window and checked

her watch. „Is it my imagination or is it getting dark rather

early, even allowing for us travelling north?‟

The normal ochre tint of the boiling clouds overhead was

darkening to umber and purple, highlighting the lightning

forks that played about their undersides.

„You‟re right,‟ Ferlane agreed. „It looks like there‟s a change

on the way. Let‟s go and get the latest forecast from Bassit.‟

They were in the last of the Economy cars, just before the

freight section. They had been making a show of their

presence by slowly walking the length of the train like

policemen on the beat, talking to the passengers and trying

to reassure them after the disturbing scenes at Roaring

Canyon. Much as she disliked the idea, Bernice would have

preferred to have some sort of uniform to wear. In the closed

environment it would have given them a useful psychological

advantage. Even a silver star marked DEPUTY would have

helped.

They had almost reached Bassit‟s office in Service 1, when

his voice came over the public address speakers.

„Your attention, please. We have received notification of a

severe storm system building ahead of us over the entire

Tharus region. There is estimated to be a fifty-five per cent

chance of class ten turbulence and precipitation conditions.

Therefore we must reduce speed to comply with safety

directives until conditions improve. Thank you.‟

They felt the train slowing even as he finished speaking.

„We wanted a tail wind, not this,‟ Bernice said angrily,

making for Bassit‟s door.

„Never rely on the weather on Tempest,‟ Ferlane said.

Bassit looked up tiredly as they entered. „You heard?‟

„We couldn‟t miss it. How long is it going to delay us?‟

„Half a day, perhaps.‟

„Any other news?‟

„I was just going to call you.‟ He handed over some fresh

police department printouts. „They concern Mr Merch. It

seems he left his previous employment under something of a

cloud.‟

„Then why did he want to come to Tempest?‟ Bernice said

gloomily. „Sorry, that just slipped out. It must be the

weather.‟

Ferlane was reading the sheets rapidly. „His previous

employers were Gallard & Row of Fomalhout, dealers in rare

and precious gems. So it wasn‟t just a hobby with him, he

really knew his stuff.‟

„Why did he leave?‟ Bernice asked. „Selling powered

furniture seems a less prestigious profession.‟

„Mmm. Apparently a small parcel of stones went missing.

Merch was suspected but nothing could be proven. He

“voluntarily” took early retirement to save everybody any

further inconvenience, but all along he maintained he was

innocent.‟

„Did he now, that‟s very interesting,‟ Bernice mused. „Even

supposing he was innocent then, he might still be embittered

enough to try his hand at the real thing, since he‟s already

been branded a thief anyway. And if he was guilty, stealing

the Imnulate would just be another step up the ladder.‟

„And working with gems he might have learnt something

about security systems?‟ suggested Bassit.

„Maybe,‟ Ferlane agreed. „But we didn‟t find anything

suspicious amongst his possessions.‟

„Apart from the missing phone and computer cores,‟

Bernice reminded him. „What was in those? Some sort of

special code-cracker program that he used to open the

MaxSec case?‟

„Even if that‟s true, it still doesn‟t tell us who killed him,‟

Bassit said. „Did Merch have a partner on board, or did he

stumble on to some clue as to who the original thief was?‟

„But then why didn‟t he tell us?‟ Ferlane snapped angrily.

„People don‟t always behave rationally,‟ Bernice said. „Or at

least, they don‟t seem to. By his own reasoning, whatever

Merch did or didn‟t do must have seemed perfectly logical.

Now if we can only unravel that...‟ She frowned. „What was

Yorland saying about Merch‟s phone line earlier when -‟

Bassit‟s phone interrupted her. It was Commissioner

Hynds.

„I thought you‟d like to know that we‟re putting a team on

your sister train, the Equatorial Express. She‟ll be leaving

Thule in a couple of hours. Depending on travelling

conditions TGR will work out the best rendezvous for you,

and the team will transfer on board. That should save almost

a day. With the level of public anxiety about this case rising I

don‟t want to see what happened at Roaring Canyon repeat

itself in Thule.‟

„You‟d really like us to roll in with the case solved, the

Imnulate found and the culprit handcuffed ready and waiting

for you,‟ Bernice said.

„I would,‟ said Hynds, without any trace of sarcasm.

They made no further progress on the investigation for the

rest of the day. Bernice, Ferlane, Bassit and Pell talked at

length. They constructed and demolished a dozen hypotheses

implicating everybody in Car A in the crime, including

themselves.

„Let‟s face it,‟ said Ferlane, „I‟m a better suspect than some

of them. And in a great position to lead the investigation

astray.‟

But he could still not explain how he could have removed

the Imnulate from the MaxSec case.

Bernice wished the train was travelling faster. Forget pride.

Let them rendezvous with the professionals and hand the

whole thing over to them as soon as possible. But the

howling wind outside denied her wishes. She had to be

content with travelling at a mere hundred kph in conditions

that would have blown any other train in the sector off its

tracks. At least it made sightseeing easier.

Through a break in the torrential rain they saw a herd of

windmill trees: short squat trunks with widespread roots,

facing into the prevailing wind that set their rigid leaf vanes

spinning. Jointed stems transmitted the motion to

specialized drill roots that burrowed into the ground after

minerals. Other modified roots carried rotating blades that

slashed at any growth not of the same stock. A few trees

edged forward against the wind, using their retracted drills as

simple wheels. Their progress in the teeth of the gale was

painfully slow.

Bernice knew how that felt.

Dinner that evening was well attended, which Bernice

thought would please Jean-Louis.

News of the planned rendezvous with the professionals may

have helped, Bernice speculated as she waited for Ferlane,

but perhaps there was also a limit to the time you could shut

yourself away from everybody. The ancient phrase „stir crazy‟

came to mind.

The Astall family were present again among others. She

had a few words with them mainly for the sake of their young

girl, who she learnt was called Tallia, and who was the only

child in the First Class carriages. Her parents, Lance and

Nyris, were trying to remain cheerful, but Tallia was clearly

aware that something was wrong.

Bernice also tried to observe the rest of the diners,

especially the A car occupants among the B car diners. She

was hoping to spot something that would be useful, even

though she had no idea what it might be. But it was not easy

to keep track as Bassit had adjusted some seats, not only to

cover the absence of Merch but to avoid undesirable

confrontations.

Costermann arrived early, she noticed, apparently

determined to put on a brave face. He looked a little fresher

than he had that morning. Bassit had seated him well away

from both the Sommers and Denn Lankril, who all made

their appearances shortly afterwards. Bernice saw the swift

sad look Clarris Sommers cast after Lankril as he walked

past them to his own table. Bernice wondered if the Versons

were going to show, hut they arrived just as the first orders

were being taken, looking as composed and loving as always.

Klemp and his entire entourage came in a minute after them,

causing several heads to turn. Was he making a public show

to dispel any suspicion of guilt? She noticed both

Costermann and Sommers senior looking at them with open

distaste. It was probably the only thing they had in common,

she thought.

Finally Ferlane appeared and slid hastily into his seat

opposite.

„Head office went on longer than I thought,‟ he said by way

of apology, punching out a rapid order on the menu pad with

an angry finger. „They can‟t understand why we‟re not

making any progress. They seem to think we should be knee-

deep in clues by now and breathing down the neck of our

prime suspect.‟

„But surely they know you‟re doing everything you can?‟

„They want results not excuses.‟

„But there are no clues, in the classic sense, to find. Nor

any fragile alibis to break down.‟ She paused, frowning

deeply. „I wonder... is that a clue in itself?‟

He scowled across at her. „How do you mean?‟

„That there is such a paucity of hard evidence. Perhaps

we‟re not getting any answers because we‟re asking the

wrong questions. Is one of our fundamental assumptions

erroneous?‟

„But what else is there to assume? The Imnulate‟s been

stolen and two people are dead. Fact. All the evidence we

have to go on are shadows on a monitor and a handful of

people with motives, equal opportunity, but no serious

means.‟ He looked depressed, and Bernice reminded herself

that he had been responsible for the safe arrival of the

Imnulate, and was the obvious scapegoat when it came time

to apportion blame.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence.

The last of the coffee and biscuits were consumed and

people began to drift out of the car, some up to the lounge in

an effort to make merry, others back to their compartments.

She watched the Versons go back to the A car together.

Costermann and Sommers both waited until they saw Klemp

was going up to the lounge, then went in the other direction.

As Bernice and Ferlane were leaving, Wilver rose from his

seat by the door and intercepted them.

„Your pardon, deputies,‟ he said, tipping his hat, „but how

are you going to pursue the investigation until the projected

rendezvous with the Equatorial Express? Will our reduction in

velocity cause you to change your plans?‟

„Not at all,‟ Ferlane said firmly.

Wilver shivered his tentacles, presumably in satisfaction.

„That is pleasing. I was concerned you had given up hope of

finding the perpetrator of the crimes and recovering the

religious artifact.‟

„Does the theft of the Imnulate mean anything to you

personally?‟ Bernice wondered.

„Only as far as it bothersomely interferes with my intended

schedule,‟ Wilver said. „My kind are rationalists. We concern

ourselves only with what is. This idol seems to inspire

concern beyond its material price. It is hard to comprehend

such thinking, but then much of humanoid society I find

puzzling, though I must function within it. Only proper

manners and politenesses do I understand.‟ He tipped his hat

again. „I trust I do not offend by speaking so.‟

„Not at all,‟ said Bernice, and smiled as the small alien

waddled rapidly away. He was passed in the corridor by

Warwick Verson heading back towards the dining car with an

untypically grave look on his face.

„You‟d better take a look at our room,‟ he said to them.

„Somebody‟s been in there while we were at dinner.‟

The Versons‟ compartment did not appear, at first glance, to

have been unlawfully entered. But Bernice had no doubt

somebody had been in there. Small things were out of place.

„I‟m sure that drawer was fully closed when we left for

dinner,‟ Ellyn Verson explained, indicating the lowest of a

bank of three on the left of the dressing table. „And my make-

up case was not so far back as to be touching the mirror as it

is now.‟

„And my clothes on the hangers in the wardrobe are pushed

to one side,‟ Warwick Verson added. „They were more to the

middle earlier.‟

„And you‟re sure this happened over dinner?‟ said Ferlane.

„We went straight there and straight back, so it could only

have happened then,‟ Warwick Verson said.

„Is anything missing?‟

„We haven‟t really looked yet. We thought we‟d better call

you first.‟

„Well, please check now.‟

As they examined their possessions Bassit entered in

response to their call. Bernice explained about the suspected

intruder.

„Well, none of the stewards would have had any reason to

come in here,‟ Bassit said firmly. „And this is not the time the

„servers are scheduled to do their cleaning.‟

Ferlane had been examining the door as they were

speaking. Now he pointed to a slight indentation on the jamb

opposite the lock.

„The bolt‟s been very neatly forced,‟ he said. „I‟d say this

whole room has been very rapidly but professionally

searched.‟ The Versons looked at him in dismay. „Is there

anything missing?‟ he asked.

„Not that we can see,‟ Ellyn Verson said.

„No money or valuables, even small items?‟ Bernice asked.

„No.‟

„Then what was the intruder after? Unless...‟ She looked at

them thoughtfully for a moment, then said quite mildly, „I

think you‟re both Drellites.‟

The couple gaped at her in surprise for a moment, then

Warwick Verson recovered himself.

„Yes, Professor

Summerfield, we do follow the way of Drell. May I ask how

you know that?‟

Bernice smiled. „Just a hunch. Bassit reminded me you

were absent from meals at regular intervals, and even late for

that interview with us. Perhaps you had biorhythm trouble,

but you seem too bright and well adjusted to suffer from

sleeping problems. I‟m just guessing, but were you

performing some religious observance at those times?‟

„We were. Special prayers are planned according to Karnor

time.‟

„I see,‟ said Bernice. „Well, I think somebody else noticed

the same thing I did, but put them together rather faster and

thought you might have something to do with the Imnulate‟s

disappearance. That‟s why your compartment has been

searched.‟

„I swear to you,‟ Warwick Verson said, „that if the Imnulate

of Drell had come into our possession while we were on this

train, then we would have handed it over immediately to Mr

Bassit to be put in his safe.‟

„But don‟t you want the Imnulate?‟ Ferlane asked

curiously.

„Of course, but not by theft or deception. Our church is

prepared to pay a fair price for its return.‟

„But isn‟t it of great spiritual value to you?‟

Ellyn Verson smiled with warmth and sadness. „It is,

Professor. You cannot begin to understand.‟

„I think you‟d better try to explain,‟ said Ferlane.

Five minutes later they were all seated around the table in

Bassit‟s office with the recorder running.

„In light of your admission just now, perhaps you would

care to amend the statements you made earlier,‟ Ferlane told

them.

„I‟m not sure what else there is to tell,‟ said Warwick

Verson.

„For a start, why didn‟t you tell us you were followers of

Drell?‟

„Surely our religious beliefs are a private matter for us

alone.‟

„Nothing‟s private where murder‟s concerned,‟ Ferlane

retorted. „Especially when your own church‟s prize idol‟s at

the bottom of it.‟

„Please,‟ Ellyn Verson said gently, „let us not allow anger to

darken our spirits. Mr Ferlane, we admit that we thought it

better not to reveal our beliefs earlier, because if you

mistakenly suspected us it would interfere with the recovery

of the Imnulate.‟

„And you still maintain you‟re innocent of any involvement

in the theft, and that you have had no links with Nathan

Costermann?‟ Ferlane said. „We will check, you know.‟

„Check if you want, but you will find nothing.‟

„We‟ll see about that. But you admit it‟s not chance you‟re

on this train?‟

„No. We knew the Imnulate would be on board.‟

„How?‟

„It was announced at a meeting of our church.‟

„Announced!‟ Ferlane ran his fingers through his hair

angrily, muttering to himself. „That leak again! But who,

who?‟

„Perhaps we should explain why we were chosen to

accompany the Imnulate?‟ said Warwick Verson.

„Please,‟ said Bernice.

„Very simply, it is our duty to prepare for its return. Certain

prayers should be said as close to the Imnulate as possible to

ease the way. A sort of cleansing process, you might call it.‟

„You don‟t believe a hunk of crystal, however prettily

shaped, has actual power? Feelings?‟ exclaimed Ferlane.

The Versons remained unmoved. „It has whatever people

choose to put into it,‟ said Ellyn. „It is a focus of hopes and

fears. Yes, you might say it has power to those who believe.

That is one of the cornerstones of our faith. There are Drell

temples on most worlds: small, discreet gathering places

where the faithful can worship undisturbed. Ours, in First

Landing City on Hanson‟s World, for instance, is in a

basement room of a department store owned by one of the

members of our congregation. We do not seek

aggrandizement. We believe in universal brotherhood, mutual

tolerance, respect for local secular law and custom, and the

certainty of an afterlife for those who have lived according to

Drell‟s word.‟ Ellyn smiled slightly. „Much to the

disappointment of the news media we do not indulge in

sensational faith healing, sexual orgies, or human sacrifice.

And so, largely ignored, we have steadily been growing...‟ She

hesitated.

„But?‟ Bernice prompted.

„But many years ago there was a schism in our faith. It was

something we were ashamed of and not widely publicized.

There arose a faction called the Kedd-Drell, in the holy

tongue. While we still believed the Imnulate to represent

universal brotherhood despite the inherent diversity of life,

the Kedd said it was a symbol of the inevitable ultimate

unification of all races under the Drell faith. A small but

horribly significant difference.‟

„I don‟t get it,‟ said Ferlane.

„The Kedd believe the unification should be actively

promoted by whatever means necessary,‟ said Warwick

Verson heavily. ‘Whatever means, you understand? If they

regain the Imnulate it will be seen as a symbolic victory by

many of those undecided members of our faith. It may sound

melodramatic, but it could mean a holy war.‟

Later, Pell, Bassit, Bernice and Ferlane sat in Bassit‟s room

talking over the Versons‟ revelation.

„This is why I stay within the realms of science,‟ said Pell.

„How otherwise sane and ordinary people can believe such

mystical nonsense is beyond me.‟

„But they do,‟ said Bernice, „and we‟ve got to deal with the

consequences. Does this make the Versons any more likely

as suspects?‟

Bassit shook his head. „Whatever their beliefs, I cannot

imagine them committing murder. And I suppose,‟ he added,

„we must now investigate all our suspects‟ religious beliefs.

But how do we go about that?‟

„Assuming the Versons‟ compartment was really searched

and they haven‟t staged it all for some reason, it brings us

back to our unknown X,‟ said Ferlane.

„If it happened during dinner, who wasn‟t there?‟ Bernice

wondered.

„I think all of the A car occupants attended,‟ said Bassit.

„Jean-Louis was most gratified.‟

„Who arrived late?‟ Bernice wondered. „I couldn‟t see the

whole length of the car. All I can say for sure is it wasn‟t

Costermann, either of the Sommers, Lankril or Klemp‟s

crowd. No... hold on. They came in after the Versons. They

might just have had the time if they worked together.‟

„I regret I did not notice,‟ said Bassit. „When I came through

I think everybody was eating.‟

„A few of the B car passengers trailed in after me,‟ said

Ferlane, „and I was one of the last, but I didn‟t notice who

was seated. Too much on my mind. I suppose any one of

them could have done it with little risk of being seen once

everybody from A had come through, then slipped in

unnoticed.‟

„We can tell by the times their orders were logged,‟ said Pell

suddenly.

„Some people take their time over ordering.‟ Bassit pointed

out. „It is no proof of when they sat down.‟

„Well, I‟m going to call my office and the police and get them

to do some serious checking on Costermann‟s social and

business life, including every company he has the slightest

interest in,‟ Ferlane announced decisively. „And if I find the

Versons have any link whatsoever with any of them, I‟m

going to bring them in again. And I‟ll get them to send

everything they have on Merch‟s old firm and see if there‟s

anything there - including religious beliefs if anything‟s

known.‟

The others nodded. Then Pell said, „One thing occurs to me.

The Versons have warned us about this fanatical-sounding

faction of their sect who might be capable of anything, and

now we are diverting some of our efforts to seeking them out.

But none of us have ever heard of them before. How do we

know they even exist?‟

Bassit‟s phone beeped, breaking the thoughtful silence. He

answered it and Anneka Neelson‟s face appeared. „I‟m afraid I

have some bad news for you,‟ she said flatly. „It‟ll be on all

the channels in a few minutes, but I just thought you should

be ready...‟

„There has been a serious accident involving the Equatorial

Express,‟ the stern-faced announcer said. „First indications

suggest a major drive system failure, which has immobilized

the train on the edge of the north polar zone.‟

A graphic route map of the line appeared on the screen,

with a flashing circle marking the location of the accident.

„There are no details yet of any casualties. An emergency

tender has already left Thule. On board the Equatorial

Express was the police team due to rendezvous with the Polar

Express to investigate the theft of the famous Drell Imnulate

and a double murder. Now it seems unlikely that they will be

able to make their planned transfer. It is even possible the

Polar may reach the scene of the accident before the line can

be cleared and the Equatorial recovered. We will bring you

further details in our next regular bulletin. Meanwhile,

anybody who may have had friends or relatives on board the

Equatorial Express should contact

„Perhaps the Drell god doesn‟t want his idol auctioned,‟

Ferlane said, switching off the newscast.

The phone rang again and Commissioner Hynds came on

the line.

„You‟ve heard what‟s happened,‟ he said bluntly. „Picking

up the team from the Equatorial will only save you a few

hours now, so unless it‟s still blocking the line, forget them.

There‟s nothing else left for you to do but get to Thule

without any further delay.‟ He scowled. „If there‟s a riot when

you arrive, we‟ll just have to deal with it as best we can.‟

From the diary of Professor Bernice Summerfield

If I was superstitious I would say somebody up there has got

it in for us. I keep wondering if I‟ve offended some

supernatural entity. Perhaps there is a Drell god as Ferlane

said.

I don‟t like the thought of religion complicating the

investigation. People are hard enough to understand as it is,

without adding that dimension. Of course the Versons seem

perfectly charming, if a little dull. But who knows? Could

they secretly be religious fanatics - far more dangerous than

the foaming-at-the-mouth variety? Religious belief can be

twisted around to provide sanction for any sort of activity.

Personally I‟m suspicious about anybody who claims to have

an exclusive hotline to all the answers, and then tells you not

to ask awkward questions.

The weather hasn‟t helped, and after the news about the

Equatorial Express you could cut the gloom with a knife. The

trouble is I keep feeling I‟m missing something, but I‟m too

tired or stupid to see it. I could do with a real drink, but

Tempest is no place for considered thought lubricated by

alcohol when you‟ve got work to do. The night crowds in too

fast and hangovers persist too far into the next day.

I hope things get better tomorrow.

Extract ends

12

LANDSLIDE

It had taken over a day, but Owen Rosen had at last

recovered a large measure of his self-confidence.

His unauthorized activity had gone unnoticed, and with

every passing hour he was less likely to be associated with

Smith’s device even if it should be found by some wild

chance. He had sent the coded message confirming the

installation to the number that had been given with his

instructions. Later he had received an innocuous-seeming

reply on his personal line including a code word indicating

the device had been activated successfully. Now all he had to

do was wait for his promised reward.

And it was while he waited that he started taking notice of

the news for the first time in three days. All his colleagues

had been talking about it, of course, but their chatter hadn’t

penetrated the fog of his anxiety. The news of the accident

involving the Equatorial Express had only served to

concentrate the news media’s attention on the railways, and

had not displaced their leading story which seemed to be

growing more sensational by the hour.

SECOND MURDER ON THE POLAR EXPRESS the headlines

all shouted. He listened and read slowly, calling up the

previous day’s newsfile dumps to check back on the earlier

reports, all the while a terrible suspicion was growing inside

him.

Could it be a coincidence?

Smith had spent thousands buying up his lOUs, so he

must he expecting some substantial reward for his trouble.

And at this moment the most valuable item on Tempest

seemed to be Nathan Costermann’s Drell Imnulate.

Which had just been stolen.

Was Smith somehow associated with what had happened?

And therefore was he also implicated with murder? He had

no idea what part the device was intended to play in his

schemes, but he could make some good guesses. What if the

device were found now, not as part of some petty smuggling

racket, but major theft and murder? He’d have to disconnect

it and risk the consequences.

No, wait a minute. He had been dealt a new hand now.

What if the device were found... by himself.

An hour later he was typing out a message to Smith’s

contact number: IMPORTANT, CALL ME AT ONCE. R.

The sudden deceleration woke Bernice from an uneasy

sleep. There was no scream of locked wheels, of course, but

she felt the pressure trying to roll her out of bed and braced

herself against it. Then the Express came to a halt, trembling

slightly in the buffeting wind. Her bedside clock showed it

was half past three in the morning. There were no lights

beyond her window blinds, only the flicker of lightning.

Please, don’t let it be another one. she thought desperately

as she threw on her gown and scuffed her feet into her

slippers. The gun and holster Bassit had issued her lay

beside her bed. After a moment’s hesitation she strapped it

on incongruously over her gown (sleep dressed until this is

over, she reminded herself) then opened her door.

A few heads were already peering out cautiously into the

corridor as she headed up towards Service 1. She saw

Warwick Verson opposite her and Brandon standing alertly

in the door of his own compartment. ‘Just stay where you

are, I’m going to find out what’s happening,’ she reassured

them.

In Service 1 she caught up with Ferlane and Bassit heading

forward towards the engine.

Ferlane was dressed as he had volunteered to take the

corridor patrol that night, and Dassit was, as always, in

uniform. (When did he sleep she wondered fleetingly - in

between journeys?)

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, joining on the tail of the

procession.

‘Murcell says the line’s blocked,’ said Bassit. ‘We’re just

going to take a look.’

The cab was dark save for the multicoloured glows of the

instrument panels. First Driver Murcell was seated before

them in an imposing chair almost the equal of a spacepilot’s.

‘The train is locked and stabilized, Mr Bassit,’ he reported.

‘Emergency stop completed without damage.’

Harsh white light from the Express’s main track lamp

reflected back into the cab through its large curved and

sloping forward windshield. Torrential rain beat down upon

it, only to be deflected a centimetre short of the glass by its

static clearview charge. Through the haze Bernice could see

that for twenty metres in front of them the track ran straight

and true. Then it vanished into a dark mass of earth, rock

and twisted plant stems at least two metres deep, that

seemed to have been poured across the monorail from some

unseen source to their right.

The night sky was illuminated by multiple forks of lightning

ripping through the inverted cloudscape, and Bernice caught

a brief flashlit impression of their surroundings.

They were on one flank of a steep-sided valley, with a white

water torrent boiling along its bottom fed by many rivulets

and flood streams. Though the track was raised on its pylons

five metres clear of the ground, a huge mass of material must

have been loosened by the rain and slumped down from the

slopes above them, burying the track in its wake.

‘Is the track still sound?’ Bassit asked anxiously.

‘Looks like it,’ said Murcell. ‘The test grid shows no

fractures, stress is within tolerance levels and the main

comm circuit seems untouched.’

Bassit breathed an audible sigh of relief, and touched his

lapel button.

‘Your attention, please.’ His voice echoed over the public

speakers. ‘As you will all no doubt be aware, we have made

an unscheduled stop. This is because the track ahead of us

has been blocked by a landslip. However, the track seems

otherwise undamaged and all communications are still

functioning normally, so there is no cause for alarm. We shall

assess the situation further when it gets light. Meanwhile we

are perfectly safe where we are, and I recommend you return

to your beds.’

He turned to the others. ‘As soon as the weather eases, Mr

Yorland can go out and make an inspection.’

‘Can we clear this sort of blockage ourselves?’ Bernice

asked.

‘Possibly, Professor. That depends on how wide it is.’

‘I think the passengers would rather we didn’t have to wait

for help,’ Ferlane remarked.

‘So do I,’ Bassit admitted, looking out into the wild night

once more. ‘But at least it’s the sort of problem we are

prepared for and know how to deal with.’

Bernice thought he actually seemed relieved by the

prospect. It said a lot about their situation when a landslide

could be seen as a welcome diversion.

Rosen was still sitting by his console anxiously watching the

clock when Smith’s reply came through a little over six

minutes after he had sent his request.

WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? S.

There was no reason why this private line should be

monitored, but Smith was clearly taking no chances by

mentioning any incriminating details. He composed a reply in

a suitably elliptical manner.

UNIT LIKELY TO BE FOUND IF DETAILED INSPECTION

ORDERED. ADDITION OF HALF OF RECOVERED ITEMS

PROMISED IN MORE LIQUID FORM WILL PREVENT THIS.

R.

There: he was committed. Smith would understand that he

had guessed the high stakes they were playing for, and that

he was threatening to ‘find’ the device himself unless he was

paid an additional half of the value of his IOUs in cash. If

Rosen reasoned correctly. Smith did not have the time to

argue or make other arrangements. If Smith called his bluff,

there was a fair chance his ‘discovery’ of the device would

allow him to survive any subsequent revelations about his

gambling debts.

Though it seemed subjectively much longer. Smith’s reply

once again came back in just over six minutes. Rosen

wondered if the interval was significant. He’d assumed Smith

was somewhere on Tempest, but perhaps he was out in

space. If so the delay might represent the time the signals

took at lightspeed to make the journey there and back.

But such idle speculations were wiped from his mind when

he read the complete message.

ADDITIONAL PERSONAL CONSIDERATION AGREED.

TRANSACTION WILL BE PUT IN HAND. S.

Rosen read it over three times before deleting it from the

display and the system memory. He felt a strange mixture of

elation and fear, just like the sensation of being on a winning

streak. Yes, it was all a sort of game and he was playing his

hand to the full and raising the stakes as far as he dared. He

hadn’t wanted any of this, but it was his chance to get ahead

and he wasn’t going to lose out, whatever the risk.

As soon as the storm had abated and before the first flush of

dawn silhouetted the dark peaks about them, Yorland left the

forward service car hatch and made his way along the track

to examine the landslip. Even though the wind had lessened

he was wearing a safety line which clipped into a groove in

the track top. He was outside for twenty minutes, and by the

time he returned the valley was beginning to fill with dull

ochre light. He left his suit airing off in the locker room and

came through to Bassit’s office. Neelson was on the phone

and listened as he made his report.

‘No damage to the track or supports that I can see. Luckily

the slip was mostly small stuff - no large rocks.

Straightforward enough. There’s about sixty or seventy cubic

metres of debris to move, and some shoring up of the slip

above the track as we go to stabilize it so that it doesn’t

slump again. Using all the available crew, I’d say it’s going to

take six to eight hours to clear.’

‘I’ll help,’ said Bernice. ‘Digging is something I’ve had plenty

of experience with. I might as well be doing something

practical than kicking my heels in here. We seem to have

reached a dead end as far as this investigation goes.’ She

raised an eyebrow questioningly at Ferlane.

‘Oh, sure,’ he said. ‘I’ll give a hand once the rest of the data

I asked for has come through.’

Bernice eyed him thoughtfully, thinking he seemed a little

distracted. ‘Found something interesting?’

Ferlane gave a half grin. ‘I’m not sure yet. Just a hunch.

Trying to think laterally. Probably come to nothing.’

Bassit was still considering their immediate problem. ‘We

might ask for able-bodied volunteers from among the

passengers,’ he suggested. ‘It has been done in similar

situations before, and I believe it will provide a useful

diversion.’

Pell agreed. ‘Our killer, even if he or she was among the

labourers, would hardly be likely to attempt to escape out

here, and it may help some of the more restless types burn

off excess energy.’

‘Very well,’ said Neelson over the phone. ‘But make sure

they sign the usual waivers before they go out.’

‘I’ll only take people who’ve had plenty of experience

working suited-up,’ Yorland promised.

‘The latest weather predictions suggest you will have a few

hours of relative calm coming up, so make the most of them,’

Neelson said.

The request for volunteers brought twenty-five people to

Bassit’s office, from which Yorland selected fifteen men and

three women who were both physically capable of the work

and experienced with using suits in such conditions,

something that not all Temperites were. Klemp generously

sent Deek along. Costermann appeared already dressed in

his suit holding his helmet under his arm.

‘I may not be at my best at the moment, but I can do

something. I’ve had some experience of working outside in

the past.’

He seemed genuinely sorry when Pell vetoed his

participation on medical grounds, but he was allowed to

remain on standby should extra assistance be needed.

Denn Lankril was also among the volunteers and was

accepted without question. Bernice noted his face bore a

more serious expression than any she had yet seen. He

caught her staring at him and hastily turned aside. Now

there’s a guilty look if I ever saw one, she thought. But guilty

about what?

Wilver appeared to apologize. ‘I am not physically capable

of great heavy labour, but is there some ancillary tasks I can

undertake so the work may be expedited?’ He was given the

job of checking tools out beside the airlock.

Tyne, who had heard the announcement like everybody

else, hammered on the door of his room until it was opened.

‘I was out on the surface of Klondyke quite a bit so I know

how to move in a suit,’ he explained, when they finally

answered his call. ‘I’m fit enough and I want to do something

or I’ll go crazy in here! You need all the help you can get and

you know there’s no way I’m going to run off.’

Yorland accepted his offer after both Ferlane and Bernice

promised to keep a special watch over him. ‘I’ll be armed,’

she reminded Tyne, ‘and you don’t want to find out how good

a shot I am.’

‘Take it easy,’ said Tyne sincerely. ‘I’ll behave.’

After a hasty breakfast the workers were cycled through the

hatch of Service 1 in groups. Bernice joined the first party

with Tyne. Once outside they edged their way cautiously

along the narrow path between the body of the Express and

the lip of the track until they reached the point where the

landslip rose up to engulf the line. Here they were able to

step out on to the mass of churned earth and rock which

formed a slope of about forty degrees.

‘Watch your footing,’ Yorland warned over their radios. ‘It

seems stable, but there are still plenty of loose rocks. Don’t

trip over them or try to stand on them, otherwise Pell will

have sprained ankles to fix.’

As promised the wind had abated, meaning the gusts were

only fifty or sixty kph. Bernice looked up at the hill looming

above them, noting the dark scar where the landslide had

torn away from its parent. A little way down beyond the

buried monorail line the slope of the debris formed a lip and

became sharply steeper as the slip belled out. Perhaps three

hundred metres below that was the valley floor and the

torrent that raced along its course.

There were more workers than shovels so Yorland arranged

them in relays, five minutes at a time, while others

manhandled the large pieces of rock clear. As they began to

work in along the line from either side of the slip, Yorland

had another team start driving in lightweight tubular rods

above them to stabilize the slope. In the absence of barrows

they used two-metre squares of reinforced plastic sheet with

loop handles, on to which earth could be heaped and dragged

aside. That the Express carried such items as part of its

standard equipment Bernice thought was very telling. Would

people ever manage to totally conquer such a wild place as

Tempest? A part of her hoped not.

Bernice shared the shovelling with Tyne. To do the would-

be thief credit he worked well, but she didn’t allow herself to

become too impressed, doubting it was a sign of a miraculous

conversion to the way of honest toil and putting most of his

efforts down to self-interest. She couldn’t blame him. It was

good to be outside in the ‘fresh air’. She could lose herself in

the simple business of physical labour, or staring about her

at the wild landscape while she rested. It was uncomplicated

compared to an investigation that was getting nowhere,

clouded by the abstractions of fear, greed and deceit. In a

vague way she hoped the break would allow her mind to relax

into free associations and magically turn up the solution to

the whole business. But so far it didn’t seem to be working.

After about half an hour Ferlane emerged to join them as

he promised. He came over as Bernice was watching Tyne

digging. What she could see of his expression through the

faceplate of his helmet appeared intense and thoughtful.

‘Did anything interesting come through?’ she asked.

‘I’m not sure. Just some ideas I’d like to try out on you...

but not over an open channel. Wait till we’re back inside.’

And he scrambled away over the slope to Yorland, who

assigned him a digging job.

While the weather held they worked on determinedly.

Despite the wind Bernice had to turn up her suit’s cooling

system, and her faceplate began to mist over as the

dehumidifier laboured to absorb her sweat. While Tyne took

his turn she watched the others. Deek was simply embracing

boulders in his massive arms and heaving them clear of the

line to bounce away down the hill and splash into the flooded

river. Lankril drove his shovel almost viciously into the earth.

He certainly had a lot of anger to work off. She estimated how

much was left to clear. Another two hours might see them

finished.

She saw Ferlane was also having a break from where he

had been digging on the outer edge of the cut. He was

turning from side to side in an apparent effort to stretch his

back and arms. She waved and rubbed her own back in

sympathy. He didn’t respond, but instead took an unsteady

step backwards as though the wind had caught him. The

movement of his arms seemed oddly uncoordinated and his

head was beginning to loll over, almost as though he was

intoxicated.

A cold numbness overtook her. ‘Somebody catch him!’ she

bellowed, springing forward.

Ferlane was now loitering dangerously on the very lip of the

slide where the slope steepened. Alerted by her cry his

digging partner looked round, threw down his shovel and

made a lunge towards Ferlane. His hands closed on empty

air as Ferlane toppled backwards and vanished from sight.

Bernice skidded to a halt on the lip of the scree and looked

down.

Ferlane was already twenty metres below her, rolling over

and over and gaining speed. He seemed to be making no

attempt to check his fall. Instinct told her to go after him but

common sense said it would be virtual suicide. The slope had

to be almost seventy degrees. But to go round the broad

swathe of the landslip and down by the gentler slopes of the

hillside would take minutes - and if Ferlane’s suit was

damaged, minutes could mean the difference between life

and death.

In her earphones she could hear Yorland calling for ropes.

She looked round desperately and saw a loose drag sheet.

She snatched it up, and, holding it over her head like a

parachute, stepped over the edge.

Her feet dug ankle-deep into the loose material of the

landslip which threatened to trip her up at every stride. But

the billowing sheet helped keep her upright, catching some of

the wind blowing up the slope and reducing the speed of her

descent by a crucial metre or two per second. Down she

plunged, starting miniature avalanches as she went. Ferlane

was still rolling ahead of her, limp as a rag doll. She winced

as she saw his head and shoulders strike a large rock. The

contact turned him round so that his tumble became a head-

down slither.

She had nearly reached the bottom of the scree slope when

a trailing root hooked round her ankle. Momentum carried

her forward, whipping her feet out from under her. Head over

heels she went, losing hold of her improvised parachute and

crashed on to her backpack, the impact knocking the breath

from her. Another half tumble and she cracked her left arm

against something hard. Sickening hot-cold pain burnt into

her forearm and jolted up to her shoulder. She flailed about

and turned her tumble into a slither like Ferlane’s, but at

least on her back.

The white water of the river was rushing up towards her.

She was almost at the bottom of the valley. Then the slope

became shallower as she hit firmer ground, her speed

slackened, and, in a drift of earth and pebbles, she ground to

a halt. She tried to sit up and felt the pain in her arm. There

was a small rent in the tough fabric of her suit and dark

blood was already seeping through it, but at least her helmet

seemed intact.

She clasped the sides of the tear together and, cradling her

injured arm, rolled over on to her knees. Lying very still just

five metres away from her was Ferlane.

Bernice stumbled over to him. He was lying on his front.

Grunting, one-handed, she rolled him over. There was a

crazed starburst pattern of cracks disfiguring his faceplate.

Beneath this she saw his eyes were closed. A trickle of blood

was running down his forehead and his lips were tinged blue.

She fumbled frantically with the controls on the side of his

backpack, turning the oxygen pressure up to maximum.

From the thigh pocket of his suit she pulled out an

emergency patch, forced the fingers of her left hand to grasp

its tab so she could peel the backing patch off, and slapped it

over the crack in his faceplate.

Her eyes were beginning to sting and she became aware of

a penetrating chemical smell. Her breathing system was

contaminated and the native air was getting into her helmet.

She turned up her own oxygen flow and then tried to pull an

emergency patch from the pocket of her own suit.

But she found her legs didn’t seem to want to support her

any more. Slowly the ground came up and hit her again and

everything went black.

13

A SHADOW EXPLAINED

Bernice became aware of the reassuring features of Pell’s face

as it swam out of the blackness. Hands were pulling at her

clothes, and there was a numbness where her left arm

should be. She tried to speak, but her throat was raw and

sore, and all she managed was a husky croak. Somebody

lifted an oxygen mask from over her mouth and nose and put

a spout to her lips. She swallowed a mouthful of water and

the mask was replaced. At the next attempt she managed to

whisper, ‘Ferlane?’

‘He’s alive,’ said Pell, his voice seeming unnaturally faint.

‘See to him first…’

‘We have...’

But she had already passed out again.

When she recovered for the second lime she was lying under

a warm blanket in a semi-reclining position on the couch in

Pell’s surgery. Her environment suit and outer clothes were

gone, she dimly realized, and she was left dressed only in her

underwear. Her left arm was extended on a rest and Pell was

bending over it. It still felt quite numb. The rest of her body

seemed to be one large bruise, but the pain was oddly

distant. This troubled her for some reason, but by a supreme

effort of concentration she rallied her confused thoughts until

they came up with the possibility that she had been given

painkilling drugs. Good. The world was starting to make

sense again.

Then she remembered.

‘Ferlane,’ she choked out, trying to sit up. Her throat felt as

though it had been sandpapered.

Pell looked up from his work. ‘Lie still,’ he commanded, ‘or

else I’ll give you a general anaesthetic.’

She lay back gingerly.

Pell spoke as he worked: ‘Mr Ferlane is next door and my

assistant’s watching over him. He’s alive... just. You may

have saved his life with that ridiculous trick of yours. I saw

the start of it myself through the window and thought for a

moment I’d be conducting two more post-mortems. I

understand that the others who followed by a safer route

took almost two minutes to reach you both. That difference

may have been vital.’

‘But... will he be all right?’

Pell hesitated, then spoke carefully. ‘He suffered oxygen

deprivation and a major skull fracture. He’s lapsed into a

coma. I have him on full monitoring and life support. The

best thing we can do for him now is to get to Thule as soon

as possible.’

‘But he will recover?’

‘I honestly don’t know. A coma may last a few days or a few

years. The state is still not fully understood. He may recover

consciousness but suffer brain damage, to what degree I

could not speculate.’

Feeling sick and very tired, Bernice lay still as Pell carefully

wrapped what looked like a thin slab of jelly-like plastic

around her forearm. She noticed a long thin red line in her

flesh, surrounded by blue and purple bruising, which was

covered by some sort of transparent tape.

‘Apart from minor irritation to your eyes, throat and lungs

from contact with the outside air, you sustained a deep

laceration in the muscle and a hairline fracture of the

radius,’ Pell explained as he worked. ‘Fortunately you lost

relatively little blood.’ Once the medical jelly was in place he

played an ultraviolet torch over it. Bernice felt the plastic

contract very slightly and then harden into a clear rigid shell.

‘The cast will protect the superficial wound and give support

to the bone while it heals. It will dissolve away by itself in two

weeks if it’s not removed earlier. The rest of your injuries

consist of numerous minor contusions, which I have treated

and which should heal naturally. I advise against any

strenuous activity for a week, and you will rest here for at

least an hour before even attempting to stand, is that clear?’

‘Yes, Doctor,’ she said meekly. She didn’t feel like moving

anywhere for the moment. She became aware of a slight

rocking motion.

‘Are we under way?’

‘Yes. After the accident it became even more essential to

clear the track as soon as possible. Using all available

volunteers the work was completed in remarkably short time.

Unless there are any further delays, we should be in Thule in

the early hours of tomorrow morning.’

‘That’s good. The sooner the better.’ She blinked, trying to

get her mind up to speed as Pell cleared his equipment away.

‘Doctor, why did Ferlane fall? He looked unsteady before he

went over, almost as though he was drunk.’

‘Simple anoxia, apparently. I would say his breathing unit

malfunctioned. The effects might appear similar to

intoxication.’

‘A malfunction? Is somebody checking his suit out?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Well, get Yorland to do it right now!’

‘Professor, please don’t get excited. I’ll pass on your

request, but you must rest.’

‘AH right, Doctor. But do it right away. And make sure

Ferlane’s not left alone for a moment. And where’s my gun?’

‘In the locker... but surely you don’t -’

‘Think! Supposing it wasn’t an accident? Whoever was

responsible might try to finish the job!’

* * *

Bernice lay still for an hour as ordered. There wasn’t

anything she could do anyway and she needed to think, as

far as her medically dulled mind would allow.

Out of the surgery window she watched the landscape roll

swiftly by. It was growing colder and greyer. The light from

the perpetual overcast was noticeably dimmer than the day

before, signalling their progress over the curve of the world

and the steadily reducing arc of the invisible sun.

They were passing through a fan forest. Each tree was

formed out of radiating spiny branches filled in between with

a mesh of fine twigs forming a single semi-circular fan

ranging from one to five metres high, angled to stand side-on

to the prevailing wind. A flock of kites shivered and flapped to

and fro in their upper branches under the buffeting of the

wind. The kites looked uncannily like their inanimate

namesakes, having fiat rhomboid bodies and loose jointed

trailing tails with hooked tips. They were one of the few

native forms to have adapted to the winds which could carry

them halfway round Tempest in a few days. Despite their

tough skins and springy bones their mortality levels were

incredibly high, apparently, but as a species they somehow

survived. It was not a lifestyle Bernice envied, but it proved

once again that nature would always take advantage of even

the slimmest evolutionary niche.

Before her hour of enforced rest was up, Pell, Yorland and

Bassit entered the surgery. They commiserated with her

briefly, then, grim-faced, Yorland came to the point.

‘I’m ninety per cent certain Ferlane’s breathing unit was

tampered with,’ he said. ‘The main oxygen feed line to the

regulator valve was loose, so the effects built up gradually.

The monitor circuit didn’t warn him because the gas sensor

lead was also broken. It could just possibly have been the

result of his fall, but I doubt it.’

‘And it was his own personal suit, so there was no trouble

targeting him,’ Bernice mused. ‘How long would it have taken

anybody to fix it that way?’

‘Only two minutes, if they knew what they were doing. Most

people on Tempest who use their suits regularly and have

taken the usual maintenance course would know how.’

‘Which I’ll bet covers all our suspects in Car A, apart from

everybody who was part of the working party itself,’ said

Bernice. ‘And with everybody, including most of the crew,

cither outside or watching the work through the windows,

almost anybody could have visited the suit lockers unnoticed

before Ferlane came out. You’d find out if the rest of the crew

saw anybody was acting suspiciously just in case.’

‘The trouble is people were going in and out all morning,’

Yorland pointed out. ‘Who’d notice if it wasn’t their own suit

they were checking over unless they looked closely?’

Bassit was looking confused. ‘But why attack Mr Ferlane in

the first place?’

‘Because he must have been getting close enough to

frighten our murderer. He hinted to me that he had a new

angle, but he didn’t want to talk about it outside.’

Bassit frowned. ‘But if he hadn’t talked to anybody about

his suspicions, how did the murderer learn of them?’

Bernice blinked in surprise, then smacked the side of her

head. ‘My brain’s not working. You’re right: how did X know?

Ferlane’s suit had to have been worked on before he came

out and spoke to me. Surely he wouldn’t have been stupid

enough to have already tried some sort of showdown without

telling us?’

‘He must have given himself away accidentally,’ said

Yorland. ‘Perhaps he left something in his compartment

which the killer found.’

‘But why would the killer search Mr Ferlane’s compartment

in the first place?’ Pell asked.

‘Curiosity,’ Yorland suggested. ‘He wanted to know how the

investigation was going.’

‘It’s possible I suppose,’ Bernice said. ‘You’d better check

whether anybody was seen hanging around Ferlane’s

compartment as well. And we need copies of all the

communications Ferlane received from his office over the last

eight hours. Will you put through the request, Mr Bassit?’

‘Certainly. But meanwhile, what shall we tell the

passengers? Many of them have already been asking about

Mr Ferlane’s condition.’

‘Including whoever was responsible, I should think, trying

to find out if he, or she’s, succeeded,’ said Bernice. ‘Or maybe

they’ll be clever enough not to ask in person or seem too

concerned...’ She threw up her hands in disgust. ‘There’s no

end to second guessing!’

‘Should we pretend what happened was an accident or

not?’ Pell asked.

‘For the moment I think we should,’ said Bernice. ‘No point

in spreading alarm again. If Ferlane does come round we’ll

learn what he was on to anyway.’

‘Supposing we let it be known he was expected to come out

of it anytime.’ said Yorland. ‘That might force whoever did it

to try again

‘And we’d be waiting for them!’ said Bassit excitedly.

‘I will not have my patients used as bait to trap a killer,’

said Pell. ‘And that’s final.’

‘In any case, would our target believe we’d leave Ferlane

temptingly unattended in his condition?’ Bernice wondered,

then shook her head. ‘We’ll hold the idea in reserve as a last

resort.’ She looked at Pell again. ‘Now if you’ll let me get

dressed and out of here, I need to borrow your patient’s

thumb for a few seconds.’

Ferlane lay in one of the small sickrooms next to Pell’s

surgery, cocooned in white sheets, breathing tubes and

monitor lines. The display on the bedhead showed his pulse,

respiration and brain activity.

Bernice looked down on his still white face and the purple

bruise on his forehead. If only he could talk to them. What

had he found, or at least what had the thief and killer

thought he had found or was about to find? Had she seen it

herself and missed it? Again the lingering feeling came over

her that she was overlooking something obvious, somehow

obscurely connected to life on Tempest. Was it the same

thing that had made her feel insecure when she first boarded

the Express?

She lifted Ferlane’s business case, which Bassit had

brought from his room, up to the side of the bed. Pell gently

moved Ferlane’s limp right hand, extended his thumb, and

pressed it down on the case lock. There was a tiny click. She

hoped it would signify the unlocking of clues.

Back in her compartment, after having assured Pell that she

was fine and would not strain herself, Bernice checked over

Ferlane’s notes and files.

Actually she felt far from fine. Her head pounded as though

an entire orchestral percussion section had taken up

residence in her cranium, and every few minutes she felt a

wave of dizzy sickness rise up within her, forcing her to sit

with her head bowed over her knees. But as soon as the

nausea passed, she resumed her search. She knew she had

no time to waste if she was going to solve the mystery of the

Imnulate before they reached Thule.

She paused, reviewing her erratic thoughts.

The ‘Mystery of the Imnulate’? She was beginning to sound

like some fictional detective! Surely I’m mature enough not to

play the glory seeker any more. But the words of her last

lecture in Carlsbad came back to her, and she had to admit

that she still secretly longed for that feeling of supreme

triumph when a hard-fought goal was achieved. Perhaps

when she no longer felt like that it would be time to retire.

Her examination revealed little of any use. There were

copies of the police reports she had already seen, giving

background information on their suspects and some extra

files transmitted from his own office. She flipped through

them, hoping for some enlightening margin notes in Ferlane’s

hand, but there were none, and in any case they were many

hours old. What she was after probably came through that

morning, judging from the change in his manner. He might

not have had time to make a printout of it. Or wanted to. No

doubt the latest reports, together with any notes he may have

made, were still locked away in digital form in the micro-

office within his business case. But its memory files would

require his personal access code to unlock, and probably

nobody but Ferlane himself knew that.

So once again, how had the murderer known? Ferlane

wouldn’t have let anybody see the case screen as he worked,

and you couldn’t profitably listen at the door to somebody

reading, unless they were doing so aloud, which was hardly

likely in this instance. She screwed up her eyes. Think,

Summerfield, think!

And then it came to her.

Of course. So obvious. At last, one piece of the puzzle had

fallen into place. She paused. No, two... or rather three.

‘Yes!’ she shouted aloud, punching the air with delight,

then regretting it as she clutched her throbbing head again.

All right, she told herself, but you need the proof. She looked

at her watch: it was nearly lunchtime. Delegate. But do it in

person.

As she was closing her door behind her, Denn Lankril came

out of his compartment a little way down the corridor. As

soon as he saw her he smiled, came over and shook her

hand.

‘That was smart work on the hill back there. Professor,’ he

complimented her frankly. ‘Nobody else had the nerve to try

the same thing. Where did you learn it?’

‘I suppose you don’t have much practice with parachutes

on Tempest. Actually I didn’t really think what I was doing.’

‘Is Ferlane going to be all right?’

‘We honestly don’t know. He could be unconscious for some

time.’

‘That’s too bad. I hope he pulls through.’

There was a tread on the stairs leading down from

stateroom C. and Lucas and Clarris Sommers appeared. At

the sight of them Lankril excused himself and walked stiffly

away towards the dining car. To Bernice’s surprise Lucas

Sommers also came over to congratulate her.

‘You showed considerable courage and ingenuity this

morning,’ he said. ‘Just the sort of spirit the first pioneers on

Tempest had.’

‘You were very brave,’ said Clarris.

‘Exactly. The sort of behaviour our young people could

learn from,’ Sommers senior added meaningfully, at which

Clarris’s face fell.

She realized both Costermann and Wilver were in the

corridor. They added their appreciation of her efforts and

enquired after Ferlane’s condition. They were joined by some

B car passengers making their way towards the dining car,

who added their congratulations in turn.

Finally escaping from her admirers, she made her way

along to Service 1, where she found Yorland. She explained

her idea and what she wanted him to do.

‘It makes sense,’ Yorland agreed. ‘Why didn’t I think of it

earlier?’

‘Because we were all thinking too superficially, when

actually somebody planned this in depth well in advance.

Perhaps this’ll tell us who.’ She checked her watch. ‘They’ll

all be at lunch now, so the coast should be clear.’

Bernice received a round of applause as she entered the

dining car again. The Versons and Klemp and his party all

joined in. It dawned on her that the passengers needed

something positive to help dispel the pervasive mood of gloom

and fear, and unwittingly she had provided them with that

something. She smiled and bowed modestly, and quickly took

her seat so that she could hide her face behind her menu

pad. But it was not just her surprise and slight

embarrassment she was hiding, it was the unintentional look

of cynical realization that had followed.

She knew that one of those present, applauding her so

heartily, secretly wished she had not been quite so heroic.

She was aware of the pressure of her gun on her hip. Would

it protect her if she was next on the list? What happened to

Ferlane showed their opponent could be subtle as well as

ruthless.

Yorland reported back after lunch, while she was updating

Bassit and Pell on her suspicions.

‘It was where you guessed, but I don’t think it’ll help us

much.’ He held up a small object sealed in a clear bag. It was

a blackened wafer of plastic and metal. ‘It was already burnt

out. Still, it does explain what one of those shadows was

doing in the corridor.’

‘Too bad,’ Bernice said, turning the small device over in her

hands, before handing it over to the others. ‘Would it have

needed special equipment to operate?’

‘Just an ordinary link and a modest-sized computer with

the right program. There are probably a hundred of them on

board. And as soon as it burnt out you can bet its operating

program was wiped automatically. At least, that’s how I’d

have arranged it,’ he added.

‘I don’t think we can count on our opponent being foolish

enough to leave anything incriminating around,’ Bernice

sighed. ‘You might check for any others, but I think that’ll be

the only one. Keep it for the police at Thule.’

The phone beeped, and papers started dropping into its

hopper. Bassit checked the first of them.

‘These are duplicates of all the reports that were sent to Mr

Ferlane, from the time we finished our discussion last night

until he left the train this morning.’

‘Good,’ said Bernice. ‘I just hope what we want is in there.’

14

DECEPTIONS AND REWARDS

From the diary of Professor Bernice Summerfield

I’ve been poring over the information Ferlane requested for

two hours and all I’ve got for my efforts is a renewed

headache. As far as I could see there’s nothing significant in

them. At least, nothing that indicates a particular suspect.

As far as it’s known the Versons had no known links with

any interests of Costermann’s. Corama Interstellar, Merch’s

employers, did have a distant connection with Costermann’s

own Integrated Polymers business, in that they both supplied

equipment and materials to medical facilities on Tempest. Is

that significant? In the same line of business there had been

a minor scandal some years before, when one of

Costermann’s subsidiary companies had supplied sub-

standard goods causing three deaths. Its manager had

committed suicide over the affair. But I can’t find any links

with Corama or Merch in that.

The commercial interests of Sommers, the Lankril family

and Klemp inevitably, given the scale of business on

Tempest, overlap with those of Costermann and each other in

places. There are several indications of mutual rivalry and

conflicts of interest in the past, but nothing worse than that.

Which only leaves hidden transactions and personal

hatreds and rivalries. And unfortunately such things are not

usually well documented. Lucas Sommers still has the

strongest motive in that department. But would he have

stopped short at sticking a knife into Tralbet with

Costermann at his mercy? If he could kill an innocent man

just doing his job, why not somebody he hated?

But was Tralbet really innocent? Somebody was paying him

off it seems, but inquiries have so far failed to discover who.

Ferlane requested the latest information on the search that

very morning and had received, the response only an hour

before the ‘accident’. If the killer learnt of that request did

that seal Ferlane’s fate?

But killing him wouldn’t stop the facts reaching us

eventually, so what was the point? Unless it was an inference

or connection beyond the raw facts, which the killer thought

Ferlane was about to make. If so why can’t I see it as well? Is

it sitting here right in front of me waiting for a leap of

intuition?

My aching head! Try another angle.

Somebody had hated Costermann enough to see him hurt

badly, at least according to the letter Tyne said he had

received. Was the sender also our unknown killer? But why

alert Tyne if they were going to become personally involved

anyway? Unless they wanted a scapegoat or a diversion.

Hmmm. Who’d been hurt in that medical scandal? Could the

thief and killer be an aggrieved patient or relative? Did the

manager have relatives who might blame Costermann for his

death and want to take revenge? Can the police match names

to people who might have had access to the details of the

transfer of the Imnulate?

Well, it’s a possibility and I’ll have to find out. But I’ll put

the call through from Bassit’s room direct. I think it’ll be

more secure like that.

Extract ends

Bernice went to check on Ferlane. There was no change in

his condition, but it was reassuring to note that the steward

on duty in the corridor outside the medical section was alert

and armed.

In Bassit’s office she explained what she wanted and he put

through the request. Commissioner Hynds came on the line

and they updated him on the situation.

‘Just concentrate on keeping things under control,’ he

advised. ‘The weather looks set fair, so you should be able to

make the final stretch at top speed.’

‘And what about the Equatorial Express, Commissioner?’

Bassit asked.

Bernice thought Hynds hesitated a second before

answering. ‘The Equatorial is being brought back to Thule. We

were just lucky there was no loss of life. The line will be clear

by the lime you get here. Don’t stop for anything.’

‘Is something wrong?’ Bernice asked.

Hynds frowned. ‘I have just been debating a new

development with TGR management. We were going to

contact you shortly anyway.’ He looked aside for a moment,

then the screen split to reveal Anneka Neelson.

‘Mr Bassit,’ she said. ‘Could you bring your engineer in to

hear this, please?’

Bassit looked nonplussed, but put through the call to

Yorland, who arrived a minute later. Neelson continued:

‘There has been no official announcement as yet and we’re

trying to keep the news from leaking out, but what happened

to your sister train was no accident. We are virtually certain

that an explosive device had been placed in one of the drive

coil casings.’

There was a painful silence. Bernice said slowly, ‘And you

think it may have some connection with what’s happening

here? But our killer’s still on board and there’s no way they

can get off. Unless they’ve got a suicidal streak in them, it

doesn’t make sense.’

‘Agreed,’ Neelson said. ‘It may be a tragic coincidence. No

threats or ransom demands have been received, but we

cannot take that chance. Mr Yorland, you will carry out an

inspection of all vulnerable areas immediately, without

alarming the passengers. Needless to say they are not to be

told of this.’

‘I understand,’ Yorland said gravely. ‘But I can’t check all

the sub-systems and external units without halting the

train.’

‘Do what you can. A full bomb squad team will be waiting

for you. You’d better inform your driver. There are no suitable

locations between your current position and Thule

where you could evacuate the train, so on balance we think

your best chance lies in speed.’

Yorland had left on his tour of inspection, leaving Bernice

alone with Bassit. She thought the steward was looking

haggard. Bassit was not an adventurous type, she thought,

and he was struggling to cope with these disruptions to years

of orderly routine.

‘Cheer up,’ she said gently. ‘I really don’t believe there’s a

bomb on board. A few more hours and it’ll all be over.’

He managed a slight smile. ‘Thank you, Professor. I will try

to hold that thought in mind. It’s just that we don’t seem to

be making any progress. With what happened to Mr Ferlane,

and now this…’

‘Well, at least we’ve explained one of our mystery shadows

today. Now if we can only deal with the other perhaps we can

narrow down the possibilities.’

‘Yes: the strange head. I’ve thought since that if only the

‘server’s routine that night had been slightly different they

might have disturbed whoever it was, and we might have

caught a better sight of them.’

‘Probably they knew the routine already and were careful to

avoid them.’

‘Perhaps. Though of course they’d only have had to keep

out of their path and their presence wouldn’t have been...’ He

trailed off, a strange look spreading across his face. ‘Oh my.

The ‘servers!’

‘What?’

Bassit pressed a button on his desk console. ‘The ‘servers.

They’re so... what’s the word... ubiquitous.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘They’re not solid machinery!’

‘Ah...’

The ‘server he’d summoned entered Bassit’s office and

came to a halt before his desk. Bassit and Bernice squatted

down either side of it thoughtfully.

‘You’re right,’ Bernice admitted. ‘They are ubiquitous. We

just accept them, don’t we.’

The common model of ‘server on Tempest was more

primitive than the porters back on Dellah, being larger and

without pseudo personalities. But as long as they functioned

efficiently enough and brought drinks before they got warm,

who cared about their mechanics? Bernice thought. Perhaps

even Yorland hadn’t thought of them when they had searched

the train.

‘Most functions and basic reprogramming can be controlled

solely by voice commands,’ Bassit explained.

‘And if somebody knew the right override codes?’

‘Exactly.’ He addressed the machine. ‘Command override

Gamma two seven. Power down to maintenance mode.

Release safety seals.’

The lights on the ‘server’s casing died, and with a click

several access panels sprang open around its blocky body.

The largest of these revealed the traction unit compartment.

Bernice studied it and the cavity within intently, trying to

picture the Imnulate manoeuvred into the space. It was an

irregular shape, but in between the maze of cables and struts

there might just have been room enough.

‘With some padding to hold it in place it could just work.

Can you get Yorland?’

The Express’s engineer appeared a few minutes later,

annoyed at being distracted from his work until Bernice

explained.

‘Remember the recording of the night of the theft. We saw

‘servers passing through the doors. Now suppose one had

been stopped in the coupler module, had the Imnulate placed

inside it together with any other specialist gear X used, then

was sent along to a certain location in one of the tourist or

economy carriages. There X’s accomplice removes the

Imnulate, and hides it or gets off with it at Spume Lake

before the alarm is raised. Meanwhile X has nothing

incriminating on him so doesn’t need to leave the carriage

during the crucial period, which was why we never saw

anybody enter Car B.’

Yorland rubbed his chin thoughtfully, it’s possible, I

suppose, if you know how to handle ‘servers. What do you

want me to do?’

‘Examine them to see if there are any physical signs of

something being hidden inside them.’

‘There are over fifty on board. Weil be in Thule before I’m

done.’

‘Well, can you check out their working logs, or something?

Look for any breaks or irregularities.’

‘That’s easy enough. Come on.’

They crossed the corridor to the engineering monitor room,

where Yorland set up the search program on his console. In a

minute the activity graphs of the ‘servers were flashing across

the screens. Yorland and Bassit scanned them with

experienced eyes, checking against their routine functions.

‘Nothing out of the usual on that night,’ Yorland said after

they had scanned the relevant period. ‘An individual

machine’s record may have been wiped, of course, but that

would take some time and skill.’

‘Extend the timeframe over the next two days,’ said

Bernice. ‘We didn’t make our search straight away. The

Imnulate might have been shuttled around inside one for

some time.’

Yorland tapped away at the console.

‘You don’t think the Imnulate could still be inside one of

the ‘servers?’ Bassit said suddenly.

For a moment Yorland looked startled, then he shook his

head. ‘No. Its energy consumption would be higher carrying

around the extra load. It would show up here...’ He frowned

at the screen. ‘But there is one non-routine pattern over the

last few days. Look: in A car the same ‘server has been sent

back and forth between stateroom C and compartment 7

fourteen times.’

‘That’s the Sommers and Mr Lankril,’ said Bassit in

surprise.

‘And that odd shadow on the monitor tape could have been

moving outside Lankril’s door,’ Bernice mused. ‘I think I’m

going to have another word with that young man.’

Denn Lankril sat in the interview chair in Bassit’s office,

arms folded across his chest, and glared back defiantly at

Bernice and Bassit.

‘As I told you before, I know nothing about the theft of

Costermann’s damn idol, or the murder of Tralbet or Merch,’

he stated flatly. ‘Isn’t that good enough for you?’

‘Not any more,’ said Bernice. ‘You see, we have new

evidence. According to the ‘server logs, there’s been quite a

lot of unexplained traffic between your room and stateroom

C. And then there’s this recording taken from the door

monitors, showing somebody’s shadow moving about in the

corridor on the night of the theft around the time we’re

interested in. Whatever cast it might have been outside your

door.’

She replayed the relevant section of the recording. Lankril

looked at the enhanced image of the strangely formed head

and shoulders with a genuinely puzzled frown for several

seconds, then he started suddenly as though realization had

dawned.

‘So you do recognize it?’ Bernice said.

‘Why didn’t you show me this before? Are you trying to

trick me?’

‘Because we weren’t sure what to make of it at first, nor if it

was going into one of the compartments or not. Now I think it

was yours. Who or what was it?’

‘I swear it’s nothing to do with what you’re interested in,’

Lankril said stubbornly.

‘Unfortunately, in this business the police seem to want

proof,’ Bernice said. ‘Hard facts, corroboration and so on. I

know it’s a bore, but that’s the way it is.’

Lankril remained stubbornly silent.

‘Very well.’ said Bernice heavily. ‘If you won’t co-operate, I’ll

just have to ask Clarris Sommers. And her father will want to

know what’s going on as well -’

‘No! Wait...’ Lankril looked distressed, if I tell you, it doesn’t

have to go any further?’

‘As long as it’s nothing to do with the investigation.’

Lankril took a deep breath. ‘That shadow was Clarris.’

‘But it doesn’t look at all like her,’ Bassit pointed out.

‘I know. She was wearing some sort of hair-curling cap. I

laughed when I saw her, which didn’t go down too well.

Anyway, she stayed in my compartment for about an hour we

just talked and kissed a little, nothing else - then she went

back to her own rooms.’

‘And you’ve been passing messages via the ‘servers ever

since?’ Bernice said.

Lankril coloured further, but nodded. ‘Yes. Love letters, I

suppose you’d call them. Well, we couldn’t meet or talk any

other way. Clarris was worried her father would hear if we

used the train phones, and he’d taken her own away. Can

you imagine that! It’s archaic the way he treats her! So

anyway I thought of the ‘servers. It was better than nothing.

We use a similar model on our farm and I worked out how to

reprogram them when I was a kid. It’s not hard -’

‘Good with robotic systems, are you?’ Bernice interjected.

‘Pretty handy. Do most of the farm maintenance myself.

Why?’

‘Never mind. Go on.’

‘Well, I got the ‘server to drop the notes outside her room

instead of ringing, or pass them to her under trays, then pick

up the replies when she slid them under the door. I know it

sounds ridiculous but there was no other way.’ He looked at

them both intently, and for a moment he seemed to Bernice

to be very young and innocent. ‘You won’t tell her father?’

‘We’re here to catch a thief and murderer, not to make

moral judgements. As long as we can confirm your story

discreetly with Clarris, her father doesn’t need to know.’

Lankril looked relieved, i don’t know when you’ll be able to

get Clarris alone. He doesn’t let her out of his sight.’

But to their surprise Clarris Sommers was waiting by

herself in the corridor outside Bassit’s room when they

emerged. She hugged Lankril as soon as he appeared, eyes

wide with apprehension.

‘I heard they’d asked you in here again,’ she blurted out. ‘I

don’t want you to get in any trouble. I managed to slip out.

My father thinks I’m in my bedroom.’

Lankril held her hands tightly. ‘I’m sorry, Clarris. I had to

tell them about you visiting me the other night.’

‘Come inside and tell me what happened without any

prompting,’ Bernice said to Clarris Sommers quickly. ‘No, you

wait here,* she told Lankril.

Back inside the room Clarris took a seat, looking at them

anxiously as Bassit switched on the recorder again. ‘Denn

won’t get into any trouble, will he? I know he’s rowed with Mr

Costermann before, but he doesn’t know anything about this

Imnulate thing.’

‘He won’t if you can confirm what he’s told us about the

night of the theft and first murder,’ Bernice said reassuringly.

‘Did you go to his room?’

‘Yes.’

‘What time?’

‘About one twenty, I think.’

‘And were you wearing something odd on your head?’

She clapped her hand to her mouth, suddenly stifling a

relieved laugh. ‘Yes. My style curling set. It’s an antique. I

used it earlier that evening just for something to do. Then I

was so exhausted with worry over Father and Denn, I fell

asleep with it still on. When I woke up I didn’t want to waste

any time taking it off, and I didn’t expect to meet anybody, so

it didn’t matter. Denn laughed at me, though I think I gave

him a shock when he first opened the door.’

‘I’m sure you did. And when did you leave his

compartment?’

‘Oh... I was there more than an hour I think. It was gone

two thirty at least.’ She suddenly Hushed. ‘We didn’t do

anything... you know, special. We just talked.’

No girl of your age should be quite that bashful, Bernice

thought. Your father’s sheltered you for too long. Aloud she

said, ‘And you didn’t see or hear anybody or anything while

you were moving about the corridors or stairs?’

‘No. It was true what I told you before, even though I wasn’t

in my room all the time. Only the usual sounds... water in

the pipes, the wind, that sort of thing.’

‘I see. And you’re sure your father didn’t wake at all?’

She looked suddenly downcast, i knew he’d sleep soundly

all that night. That’s why I risked seeing Denn. Father

doesn’t like to admit it, but he takes Somnanburol every so

often to adjust... to our short days, you know. It’s silly really.

Lots of people have to, but he seems to think he should be

able to manage by willpower alone.’

‘So he was sound asleep all night?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘Well, I think that’s all we need to know.’

‘You won’t tell my father?’

‘No need. Now you’d better be getting back to him before

A loud voice rang out in the corridor, which caused Clarris

to shrink back in her chair in dismay.

‘What are you slouching about out here for, Lankril? Do

you know where my daughter is?’

‘Can’t you bear to let her out of your sight for five minutes?’

Denn Lankril replied.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Afraid she’ll follow after your wife?’

Bernice rolled her eyes heavenward. The young idiot!

There came the sound of a blow. Bernice whipped open the

door. Denn Lankril was holding a hand to his mouth from

which a trickle of blood was running. Sommers faced him,

his face livid and eyes blazing, fists clenched and raised

menacingly.

‘Stop or you’re both under arrest!’ Bernice rapped out,

resting her hand meaningfully on the butt of her pistol, while

silently wishing once again that she had a better symbol of

authority.

Sommers swung his gaze angrily at her, then over her

shoulder through the half open door. ‘Clarris! What are you

doing there?’

‘Helping us clear up a minor point involving the on-going

investigation like a conscientious citizen,’ Bernice said

quickly. ‘She came entirely voluntarily, and has been most

helpful.’ She beckoned to Clarris before her father could

speak again. ‘Thank you, Miss Sommers. Perhaps you would

lake your father back to your compartment now? Do

remember what we said was confidential. In the interests of

the investigation, please do not mention it to anyone.’ She

hoped the girl would take the hint.

Clarris took her father’s arm and almost pulled him down

the corridor, casting one quick pained glance over her

shoulder at Denn Lankril. Once they had gone, Bernice also

turned her gaze on Lankril, but far less favourably.

‘You’d better go along to the doctor to have that seen to.

And do try to keep your mouth shut in future, if not for your

sake then for Clarris.’

Lankril left in silence.

‘I hope those two young people will be reconciled

eventually,’ said Bassit. ‘You can tell they really are in love.

So sad.’

‘Mr Bassit, I do believe you’re a romantic at heart.’

Bassit smiled shyly. ‘I admit a preference for happy

endings, Professor.’

‘Yes, well, romance can also be a bloody pain,’ Bernice

exclaimed, returning them to reality as she led the way back

into the office. ‘It’s just the sort of idiosyncratic human

behaviour that makes a dog’s breakfast of things. We’ve been

baffled by that shadow for two days, and now it turns out to

have an almost laughably mundane explanation.’

‘But at least we’ve now eliminated a false lead.’

‘But it doesn’t get us any further. And now Lucas Sommers

has no alibi.’

‘Sorry, I don’t see it.’

Bernice sighed. ‘This business is turning me into a

suspicious and cynical specimen, and I was already cynical

enough to start with. Look, suppose he only pretended to take

his sleeping pills, then slipped out and committed the crime

while his daughter was away. He’d just have had time.’

‘Using her as his alibi?’

‘Possibly. Or perhaps he didn’t even know she’d gone.

That’s the trouble in this sort of situation; you stop believing

in simple coincidence.’ She frowned glumly. ‘So, we know

what the two illicit figures in the hall were doing, but we still

have no idea how the Imnulate was removed from the case or

from the train. That’s still the key to the whole thing.’

‘Mr Lankril admitted a familiarity with robotic devices.’

‘Farm machinery is a very long way from a MaxSec case.

Unless Lankril is some sort of secret computer genius. But if

he was, what’s he doing on a fungi farm?’

‘Because it’s his family business,’ Bassit pointed out

simply.

Bassit’s link broke the thoughtful silence. He answered it

and a stranger’s face appeared on the screen.

‘I’m Bob Rester, technical director of MaxSec Security.

Sorry we were so long in returning Mr Ferlane’s call, but it

took a while to get TGR to put us through. They seem to have

a pretty tight filter on live calls to the Express.’

‘Do I understand Mr Ferlane called you, sir?’ Bassit asked.

‘Left a message last night. It seemed pretty urgent. We’ve

already been contacted by his office, of course, and are

standing by to make checks when you arrive, but he wanted

to talk direct on a personal line. And now I understand he’s

indisposed.’

‘He is, I’m afraid,’ Bernice cut in. ‘I’m Professor Bernice

Summerfield, special constable for the TPD, part of the team

handling the investigation on the spot. If you have any

information Mr Ferlane requested that would help us. Please

pass it on.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know what Mr Ferlane wanted exactly. I

suppose it was more details of the functions of our model

Ultra Five.’

‘Sorry?’

‘The security case in which a certain item was being

transported.’

‘Ah, yes.’

‘Well, what would you like to know? I’m very happy to co-

operate with the police, only please remember this is not a

secure line.’

Bernice stared at him blankly. If only she knew what

Ferlane had intended to ask, she might know the answer to

everything.

From the diary of Professor Bernice Summerfield

I wish I could talk things over with Ferlane. Pell and Bassit

don’t have his imagination. Which is probably why he’s where

he is now. Which leaves me talking to myself as usual.

So what about Denn Lankril?

He needs money and wants to marry Clarris Sommers. The

Imnulate is valuable and stealing it would certainly put him

in Lucas Sommers’ favour. He may just have the technical

ability to carry out the crime, is strong enough to have

tackled Tralbet and probably had a grudge against him for

the way he threw him out of Costermann’s party. And Clarris

loves him enough to provide an alibi...

No, no, no. Too many holes. Besides, Denn Lankril and

Clarris Sommers had better things to do the other night than

steal religious artifacts.

But Sommers senior is a serious suspect for the original

crime. Just. He has motive, possible means and a narrow

window of opportunity, assuming he faked taking his

medicine and sneaked out while his daughter was downstairs

with Lankril. But could he also have killed Merch and

sabotaged Ferlane’s suit? Did anybody see him near the suit

lockers at any time? All

I’ve really got against him is that he knows computers, but

is he really skilled enough?

For that matter, Warwick Verson has a very strong motive

and was in the construction business. Why not hypothesize

that he brought some revolutionary miniature phase shifting

commercial debonder with him that miraculously penetrated

the MaxSec case’s field without triggering it? His wife would

give him an alibi. And then who knows what skills Deek and

Brandon have picked up? Could Klemp be playing a very

clever game of double bluff? Has Wilver got any mysterious

alien powers we don’t know about?

Enough! Too much fantasizing and not enough proof.

And if any of them somehow got hold of the Imnulate, what

did they do with the expletive deleted thing?

Rester, the security man, confirmed in slightly more

technical language what Costermann told us about the

MaxSec case’s functions. What it boils down to is that there’s

no way he can see the case allowing any item to which it’s

sensitized to be removed. I described the readings on its

displays and he agreed that according to them, despite

indisputable evidence to the contrary, the Imnulate was still

inside. He’d rung off looking distinctly unhappy. He was in

good company.

I think I’ve about reached the limit with this.

I’ve tried to play the amateur detective as well as I could

but I’ve failed. No silver star for Summerfield. We’ll be in

Thule tomorrow where the professionals, finally, can take

over. Let them solve it. After all it’s their job. Still, it would

have been nice to have worked it out ourselves, for Ferlane’s

sake if nothing else.

Extract ends

Bernice stared out of her compartment window, feeling as

bleak as the darkening countryside.

The land was patterned with mottled red and yellow lichens

and shaggy beds of moss. There were no more major

settlements this far north, as the most valuable of Tempest’s

fungi preferred warmer conditions. Nothing between them

and Thule now but the monorail track. An intense flurry of

sleet and snow billowed past, enveloping the train and

reducing visibility to a few metres. When it cleared she saw it

had gathered in the shelter of loose rocks, picking out the

courses of the mountainside opposite. Its highest slopes, just

before it vanished into the clouds, were already snow-capped.

Miserably, she watched the snow turn to slush outside as a

slightly warmer blast of wind scoured the land.

The Express turned a long bend into a narrower more

sheltered valley. Here a few stands of taller trees appeared

flanking the line. Tight conical forms with very broad bases to

anchor them against the wind. Some of them were actually

tall enough to be silhouetted against the leaden sky.

Without warning a deep throb of power ran through the

train as the force brakes cut in. Couplings squealed and

clashed. A book and a few other loose items flew off her

bedside table. Bernice felt her chair shifting and grabbed

futilely for some support as momentum inexorably toppled

her over on to the floor.

15

ULTIMATUM

Rosen was surprised to find a small package waiting for him

when he came off his next shift. According to the postmark it

had travelled on the automatic high G-mail run from Juno,

the major planetoid of the asteroid belt. The sender’s address

meant nothing to him. The timecode was just a few hours

after he had communicated with Smith. Was that where

Smith had been? The time delay would have been about

right. But if his suspicions were correct about what Smith

was after, why wasn’t he on Tempest itself? Perhaps he was

now. Presumably he could have arranged to have the

package sent remotely. It didn’t matter.

The package was soft and light and flexed slightly; just the

right size and weight. It had to be his money and IOUs!

He’d been expecting somebody to bring his payment in

person, and he had already given some thought as to where

he could meet them. Somewhere discreet but public, so they

couldn’t try any double-cross or strong-arm tactics. And he

would warn them about the supposed safeguards he had

taken to expose Smith’s plan should anything happen to him.

Smith had agreed to his demands very easily and he wasn’t

about to be taken for a fool. But now he realized there was no

need for anybody to come to the station. It was probably

simpler and safer for Smith this way as well.

But eager as he was, he did not open the package

Immediately.

Even though it had gone through the usual station

scanners, he still wasn’t taking any chances. Carrying it

carefully, he made his way to the engineering shop.

The Polar Express was still shuddering to a halt when Bernice

scrambled to her feet. She tore open her door and plunged

out into the corridor.

‘Professor, what is wrong?’ she heard Wilver call plaintively

from behind her as he opened his own door.

She didn’t reply, saving her breath for sprinting forward

through the dining and service cars. Her senses were

tingling. One emergency stop per trip was reasonable, two

was unfortunate, three spelt trouble, she thought as she ran.

She clattered along the engine compartment walkway,

flanked on either side by gleaming impellers and drive stacks,

and finally burst through the door into the cab.

The streamlined prow of the Express was almost brushing

the branches of a pseudo-pine tree that lay at an angle

across the elevated line.

Murcell looked round at her and managed a sticky grin.

‘That was a close one, Professor. Sorry if it shook you up but

I didn’t have much warning.’

Out of the side windows she saw the track ran only a

couple of metres above the gently sloping ground here,

passing through a wide-felled swathe in a small forest of

pines.

Wrong, wrong! her inner voice shouted.

‘How did that tree get there?’ she said sharply. ‘It can’t have

fallen naturally, and if it was blown this far, why are the rest

still standing? It’s a trap! Reverse! Get us out of here!’

There must have been something compelling in her tone

because Murcell didn’t argue. He punched buttons and

twisted a control lever. The engine hummed as the train lifted

slightly and slowly began to pull back from the barrier.

An alarm rang and lights flashed across the console.

Murcell cursed as the train jerked to a halt for a second time.

‘What is it?’ Bernice demanded.

‘Rear proximity alarm.’ He hit a button below a screen

which lit up to show the view from the rear car back the way

they’d come.

Another tree lay across the track. This time Bernice saw

the cable that had just dragged it into place snaking away

into the tree’s downslope.

Bassit entered the cab. ‘What’s happening?’

‘We’re being hijacked,’ said Bernice bluntly. ‘Call Thule and

warn them.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t, Professor. We’ve been cut off. No signals

are getting in or out…’ Realization dawned. ‘Uh.. . I suppose

the trackside receptors must be masked.’

Bernice looked at the tree ahead. ‘This is a big enough

train. Can’t we push our way through?’

‘The nose might take the pressure,’ Murcell conceded, ‘but

if a branch or something sizeable got between the underside

and the track it could tear out a whole bank of lifting

projectors or flip a carriage. We can’t risk it.’

‘Then we’re trapped,’ said Bassit starkly.

‘Who’s that?’ said Murcell, pointing out of the side window.

Three environment-suited figures had emerged from the

shadows under the trees. The smaller figure in the lead was

empty-handed, but the two flanking him each carried long

thick-barrelled weapons. Something mean and powerful no

doubt, Bernice thought. The smaller figure halted the group,

then pointed and waved to the train, at the same time

tapping the side of his helmet.

‘I think he wants to have a chat,’ said Bernice. ‘You’d better

try the link again.’

‘But why are they doing this?’ asked Bassit, white-faced.

‘What do they want?’

‘Oh, I can guess what they want,’ Bernice said grimly. ‘The

problem is, will they believe we can’t give it to them?’

They crossed back from the engine to Service 1. Yorland

appeared looking grim-faced and followed them into Bassit’s

office.

The ‘Sound Only Selected’ sign showed on Bassit’s link

when he switched it on. Bernice punched in the same option,

just in case their caller had a visual receptor in his helmet.

‘Yes?’ she said tersely.

‘Ah, Professor Summerfield, is it not?’ came a clear level

voice over the atmospheric crackle.

‘And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?’

‘You may call me Smith.’

‘Well, Smith, what do you want?’

‘Don’t feign ignorance. Professor, it does not become you. I

want the Drell Imnulate, as I’m sure you have guessed.’

‘That might be a slight problem. It’s been stolen.’

‘So I understand. But I also know your investigations,

together with those of the regular police force, have

demonstrated that in all probability it is still on board.’

‘But we’ve searched the whole train and it’s not here.’

‘Can you not admit the possibility that it has simply been

hidden where you cannot find it?’

‘What if it has?’

‘I can bring a certain incentive to bear on whoever has

stolen the Imnulate that is beyond the scope of your powers.

Look outside…’

More men emerged from the wood. Bernice counted eight of

them, and presumably there were more on the other side of

the train. Six were armed with shoulder-hung automatic

weapons, while a couple carried a heavy semi-portable high

energy blaster and a thick-barrelled projectile launcher.

‘It’s a show of force,’ said Yorland. ‘He’s trying to intimidate

us.’

‘And he’s doing a bloody good job,’ Bernice muttered softly.

She turned back to the phone and said, ‘All right, Smith. We

can see your playmates have pretty toys. What’s the deal?’

‘It’s quite simple.’ Smith consulted his watch very

deliberately. ‘You have one hour to find the Imnulate and

hand it over to me. If you do not, I will tear this train and its

passengers apart piece by piece!’

‘You mean you’re holding the whole train hostage for its

return?’

‘Exactly.’

‘You wouldn’t!’ Bassit gasped in horror. ‘There are families

on board... women and children!’

‘I trust this can be resolved peacefully, Mr Bassit, which is

why I have generously allowed you time to consider your

situation, and for the thief to conclude that there is only one

option open. This particular location on your route was

carefully chosen to ensure we shall not be disturbed for

several hours at least, even assuming the authorities realize

what is happening and dispatch a relief party immediately.

Meanwhile, as you see, I have ample resources to enforce my

demands if it becomes necessary. If you doubt my resolve to

initiate such extreme measures, remember what happened to

your sister train.’

Bassit looked aghast. ‘You were responsible for the crash of

the Equatorial?’

‘Yes. Planting a bomb on board was an insurance I had

taken out before I knew your trip was going to be so eventful,

in case I needed a diversion or a demonstration of power. In

the end it also served to prevent your rendezvous with the

police team from Thule, whose presence would have made

this task much harder. But that is all academic now. You

know what I want and you have’ - he consulted his watch

again - ‘fifty-nine minutes left to produce the Imnulate.’

And he rang off.

Even as they were staring at each other in dismay, they

heard Smith’s amplified voice booming through the outside

air.

‘Passengers of the Polar Express, your attention, please. My

name is Smith. As I have just informed your police deputies,

if you wish to continue your journey to Thule in safety and

avoid any bloodshed, you will hand over the Drell Imnulate

within one hour. You can see my men are heavily armed. Do

not make it necessary for me to use them to take the

Imnulate by force.

‘Passengers of the Polar Express...’

The words faded as he moved away down the side of the

train.

Yorland said, ‘A hijacking in this day and age! It’s

incredible!’

‘Which is probably why this Smith character thought of it,’

Bernice said. ‘You treat trains on Tempest like little isolated

worlds that nobody and nothing enters or leaves except at

the proper stops. But this trip’s shown that’s not so.’

Bassit said slowly, ‘But we are really isolated now. No

emergency tender could reach us for at least five hours. He’s

planned this very well.’

Bernice frowned. ‘Yes, he has, hasn’t he. In fact he seems

unusually well informed about our circumstances.’

Yorland looked at her curiously. Bassit continued, ‘I do not

like the thought of giving into threats, but I don’t see we have

any choice. Whoever stole the Imnulate will have to hand it

over now.’

Bernice shook her head. ‘No. That’s where this Smith’s

logic breaks down. Fear cuts both ways. Remember that

whoever’s responsible is also a double murderer. If they own

up they know what’s going to happen to them even if we get

out of this fix. They might simply be too scared, or prefer to

risk keeping quiet.’

‘Can we arrange some way the thing can be returned

anonymously?’ Yorland wondered.

‘How? I don’t think we’ve got the time or the right physical

setting to allow it to be done.’

Bassit was looking at her in deepening dismay. ‘Do you

really believe the thief will keep quiet?’

‘I hope I’m wrong. And since we’ve got nothing to lose you’d

better make the request anyway. Offer the thief every

consideration. It might just work.’

Bassit nodded, composed himself for a moment, then

opened the public address channel.

‘Your attention, please. The line has been blocked both in

front and behind the train. You have heard the demands

being made. If the Imnulate is still on board, I urge whoever

has it to bring it at once to my office in the forward service

car, or to contact any of the train staff. I promise this gesture

will be brought to the attention of the authorities when we

reach Thule, where it will certainly count in your favour.

Meanwhile will all passengers please try to remain calm. That

is all.’

Bassit closed the channel. He looked very tired, Bernice

thought.

Yorland said, ‘Is there a chance this Smith is bluffing about

using force?’

‘I don’t think so from the sound of him,’ Bernice said. ‘An

intelligent hard case, probably with a touch of the Napoleon

complex from the look of him. Dangerous. The only thing

probably holding him back is fear of accidentally damaging

the Imnulate in an all-out attack. It’s our only advantage.

Meanwhile we’d better prepare for the worst.’

‘You mean to fight?’ said Bassit.

‘I’m open to any better suggestions if you have any.’

‘Suppose we let Smith on board to see the Imnulate’s not

here for himself?’

‘It took us six hours or so to check the whole train, and

this Smith thinks we still missed it,’ said Yorland. ‘He hasn’t

really got time to search, he’s banking on fear to do his job

for him. If he’s telling the truth when he says he bombed the

Equatorial just as a diversion, he’s capable of anything.

Supposing he starts threatening to execute people one by one

until the Imnulate is produced? We daren’t let him get on

board. No, the Professor’s right. We’d better prepare to fight.’

Bassit’s lapel communicator beeped and Pell’s voice spoke

out: ‘I have called my assistants in and we are preparing the

sickbay... just in case.’

‘Thank you, Doctor,’ said Bassit. ‘We shall keep you

informed of developments.’

There was a knock on the door. It was Costermann, Wilver

and Lankril.

‘We want to get our guns from the lockers,’ Lankril said

simply. Costermann nodded, apparently still too dazed by the

latest turn of events to speak. It took something like this to

make them stand shoulder to shoulder in agreement, Bernice

thought wryly. She glanced at Bassit.

‘As you wish,’ he said.

‘OK, but don’t start anything prematurely,’ she warned

them, as Bassit called one of his assistants to open the gun

locker. ‘Do you want a gun as well, Mr Wilver?’

‘I do not think such a thing becomes me,’ he said, hefting

his umbrella. ‘But be assured that when the time comes I will

use this to a most positive effect. What are your plans? Is

there any way I can aid them?’

‘We’ll let you know. Right now, please go back to A car and

try to keep everybody calm.’

Wilver nodded and scuttled away.

Rosen returned to his compartment with the instruments

he’d surreptitiously borrowed from engineering. He placed his

precious package, still unopened, in the middle of his lounge

table and carefully ran the chemical and electromagnetic

scanners over it. According to them the parcel contained no

volatiles associated with any known explosive chemicals, nor

metallic parts or energy cells.

Smith must have decided he was getting enough for himself

to afford the extra expense, Rosen decided. With trembling

hands he tore open the package.

Inside were the bundle of his IOUs and an open credit

transfer card, payable to bearer, for twenty-four thousand

shillings.

He leafed through the IOUs intently, but they were all

there.

He’d done it! At last his luck had changed.

Then his elation was punctured by a stray thought. What

about the Express and its valuable cargo, if that really was

the object of all Smith’s efforts? What had he got planned for

them?

* * *

The corridors of the Express were full of people carrying

environment suits and guns. Mattresses were being removed

from the lower berths and carried to the upper decks. In the

Economy and Tourist cars children’s voices were raised in

mingled alarm and excitement. Bernice hurried towards

Service 2, her expression set and determined.

It was surprising how well the passengers and crew were

coping, she thought. Perhaps the events of the last few days

had also prepared them for this crisis in some odd way. She

hoped they would keep their nerve. She had no doubt that

Smith would go to any lengths to obtain the Imnulate, and

that potentially every life on board was at risk. Maybe the

thief would miraculously return it at the last moment, but

she wasn’t hopeful. And if they were to escape from his trap,

there was one possible obstacle that had to be eliminated

first. Her suspicions might be unfounded but she couldn’t

take the chance that she was wrong. And there was only one

way to find out for sure.

She unlocked and flung open the door of Tyne’s makeshift

cell, strode inside and closed it behind her. Tyne sprang up

from his bed.

‘I thought you’d forgotten about me!’ he said anxiously.

‘This Smith character... is he for real?’

‘Unfortunately yes. Which is why I’ve got a job for you,’

Bernice replied crisply. ‘As an incentive, let me point out that

it might help save the lives of everybody on the train, your

own included. Interested?’

Tyne gulped then took a deep breath. ‘I’m listening.’

She told him rapidly and concisely what had to be done.

‘Get help from Pell or Yorland while they can spare it,’ she

concluded, ‘but don’t tell any of the passengers what you’re

doing. Not one. understand? Now here’s a spare set of

steward’s keys if you need to open anything. You’ve got forty-

five minutes.’

‘That’s not enough time,’ Tyne protested, but Bernice was

already out of the door, which she left open. Tyne sighed

heavily and strode out after her.

* * *

Bernice found Yorland in the Service 1 suit locker room,

which was now almost empty. He was already dressed in his

environment suit. She started getting into hers.

‘All the reserve weapons are distributed,’ he said. ‘I thought

we’d post everybody who’s armed in the coupler modules.

That’s where they’ll have to come in. As we’re stationary I’ve

been able to disable the safeties so that the outer doors can

be opened manually just wide enough to give them some

cover while they shoot. I think we’ve got a good chance. Say

what you like about our trains, we build them solidly.’

‘I hope so. How many guns do we have in all?’

‘About sixty, including the reserve. All pistols except for the

pieces Klemp’s men had with them. They’re probably illegal

but right this minute I’m not complaining. We’ll give this

Smith a tight if he starts anything. Shock tactics and big

threats can misfire. We don’t put up with that sort of thing

on Tempest. I don’t think he’s a native or he’d know better

how we’d react!’

‘If he didn’t I’m sure he will by now,’ said Bernice.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Never mind, it’s being taken care of.’ She looked at her

watch, seeing the minutes tick inexorably away. ‘But will it

be in time?’

Rosen knew what he should do, but he also knew he didn’t

have the courage.

He couldn’t let Smith get away with it.

A wild instinct to play an advantage had won him a bonus,

but now the payment mocked him. Was this blood money? If

it was simply stealing from a man who had too much anyway

perhaps he could let it go. But the more he thought about it

the more he was sure Smith was involved in the business on

the Express.

A whole trainful of people!

It might get messy. People might get hurt... or worse.

But he couldn’t do anything to call attention to the device

now. If Smith were caught he would implicate him, and even

if he’d removed it by then there might still be enough

suspicion to ruin him. And what if Smith escaped and

wanted revenge? He remembered his barely disguised threat

back down in Thule. Did he want to spend the rest of his life

looking over his shoulder?

Wait. Perhaps he could warn the authorities anonymously?

Yes. He could rig the monitors so that the call could never

be traced to him. That would salve his conscience. Whatever

happened at least he would have made an effort.

He reached out towards his console - and found his right

arm was dead.

He couldn’t lift it or even close his fingers. And his left was

just as useless. Alarmed he tried to get out of the chair but

his legs refused to function. He could not even bend forward.

An insidious progressive numbness was seeping through his

whole body.

Terrified, he tried to call for help, but all that emerged from

his lips was a faint gasp.

Then the numbness reached his chest.

There was a brief moment of pain and then nothing.

16

THE BATTLE OF THE TRAIN

Lyn Masco met Tyne as he was hurrying along the corridor of

Tourist Car A with a distracted scowl of concentration on his

face. They hardly recognized each other as they were both

now dressed in shapeless company-issue environment suits

with their helmets open. Their reunion was ignored by the

anxious passengers pressing past them. However, Tyne did

not address her by the name on her ticket.

‘Lil!’ he said delightedly. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine,’ Lil assured him, ‘but I’ve been worried sick after

they took you away. Then there was that mob... I tried to stop

them.’

‘Did you? Thanks, Lil. I’ve been locked up for days. I

couldn’t get word to you.’ His face set. ‘I didn’t tell them you

were in on the scheme.’

‘I know. That was straight of you. But what’s happening

now? Have you broken out?’

‘No, I’ve got a special job to do. Might help to keep me the

right side of the bars. Sorry, no time to explain.’

‘Need any help?’

Tyne smiled. ‘Thanks but no. You stay clean and clear of

me. And keep your head down. All hell’s about to break loose.

This Smith character sounds like a bad loser.’

‘Don’t I know the type!’ She hesitated, then said

uncharacteristically softly, ‘Take care of yourself.’

‘You too, Lil. Uh... when this is over... we’ve got to have a

talk about things.’

She smiled. ‘OK,’ she said simply.

His eyes lingered on her as she walked away, then with an

effort he turned his thoughts back to his appointed task.

Smith’s deadline had hardly five minutes left to run when, at

Bernice’s request, all the First Class passengers gathered in

the observation lounge. Though the light had not quite left

the sky, all the window blinds were firmly drawn to prevent

the hostile forces observing them.

It was a strange contrast to the last time they were there,

Bernice thought. Gone were the expensive clothes and the

inconsequential chatter over drinks. Now they were all

dressed in anonymous environment suits with only their

faces showing through open visors to distinguish them. The

only exception was Wilver, who, though clad in his own

specially tailored environment suit, still clutched his

umbrella and bowler. She saw a range of emotions displayed,

not just fear but resolution and confusion. The Versons were

holding hands and looking stoic. Klemp’s female companions

huddled against him like frightened birds. Costermann

looked grim but determined. Lucas Sommers, face as

impassive as ever, had an arm around Clarris, who was

snatching frightened glances at Denn Lankril. The Astalls

were holding Tallia close to them. The young girl was looking

about her as though uncertain whether to be excited or

afraid. Deek and Brandon just looked ready to fight, holding

their guns close to their chests.

‘We haven’t much time, so please listen carefully,’ Bernice

said. ‘Smith will probably try to take the forward cars first

since it’s here the Imnulate went missing and so as good a

place to start as anywhere.’ There was a worried murmur and

she raised her hands for silence. ‘But he’s unlikely to use his

heaviest weapons for fear of damaging it, at least to start

with. For the moment you’ll all stay in here. When the

shooting starts keep flat on the floor.’

‘Can’t we buy the man off?’ said one of the B Car

passengers with a desperate edge to his words. ‘If all he’s

doing it for is money. We can afford it.’

‘I don’t think he’d accept cheques, and he’s not in this for

trinkets and small change. There’s only one thing he wants,’

Kite glanced at her watch, ‘and I’m afraid we

There was a rush of footsteps on the stairs, causing every

head in the room to turn. Tyne appeared. In one hand he

clutched his rugged orange inflatable drop bag, while in the

other, held triumphantly aloft, was the glittering blue

translucent form of the Imnulate.

‘I got it!’ he shouted, waving the Imnulate about as though

he was parading a trophy. Bernice felt the tension in the

room lift almost magically, and saw the sea of tense faces

dissolve into foolish smiles of surprise, heartfelt relief and

even a rictus of outright astonishment.

‘Your long shot paid off. Prof,’ Tyne complimented Bernice

as he finished his victory dance and pushed the Imnulate

into his protective bag.

‘What long shot?’ Bassit asked.

Bernice smiled broadly. ‘Set a thief to catch a thief. Or in

this case a thief’s stash. Where did you find it?’

Tyne glanced up from inflating the bag around the

Imnulate, his face split in a self-satisfied grin. ‘The last place

you’d look, of course, as whoever took it must have worked

out. In Costermann’s room hidden inside the back of a

lounge chair. I reckon your thief knew just what the

procedure would be, and that nobody would search

Costermann’s rooms properly before they were sealed off. So

they weren’t checked when the train was searched. Probably

has a contact in the police or forensic investigation

department all set to slip it out when they made their

examination.’ He finished inflating the protective bag and

tossed it to Bernice. ‘There, now I don’t want to see the thing

again. It’s bad luck. Throw it outside for that Smith character

to play with and let’s get going.’

There was a chorus of approval at his words. A couple of

passengers crowded round him to shake hands and clap him

on the hack. Then Warwick and Ellyn Verson stepped!

forward.

‘You must not hand Drell’s Imnulate to those people

outside,’ Warwick said firmly.

This intervention drew angry murmurs from the others.

‘I believe they are agents for the Kedd-Drell,’ Ellyn added,

which raised a fresh mutter of puzzlement.

Bernice looked at them intently. ‘Believe me,’ she said,

tapping the beachball-sized sphere in her hands, ‘this thing

is not worth people dying over.’

‘Most assuredly correct,’ said Wilver loudly.

‘It represents something more important than life,’ Warwick

Verson countered.

‘Religious idolatry,’ Lucas Sommers sneered.

‘It can be a power for great good or great evil,’ Ellyn Verson

said stoutly.

‘What would you suggest we do with it?’ Bernice asked her.

‘Keep it safe. Hide it again. Don’t tell Smith it’s here. We

must try and get it to Thule.’

‘Would you ask these other people to risk their lives for

your beliefs?’ Bernice asked. ‘Wasn’t your Drell a man of

peace? Would he want blood shed over his statue?’

The Versons were silent.

Bernice continued. ‘But if there was no other choice, would

you smash it to prevent it falling into the wrong hands?’

The Versons looked appealingly at each other, then

Warwick nodded solemnly. ‘Yes, I would.’

‘No!’ Denn Lankril said, supported by several other voices,

‘We don’t know how Smith would react if you did that. It’s

just a hunk of crystal.’ He glanced at Nathan Costermann.

‘Just’ property... it’s not worth anybody dying over.’

‘Yes: hand it over!’ somebody called out from the back.

‘Just a minute,’ said Bernice firmly. ‘We can’t simply hand

it over and hope Smith keeps his word. We’ll show him we’ve

got it, then bargain to get the block ahead of us cleared

before we hand it over.’

Some of the group nodded while others shook their heads.

‘I believe we should not prevaricate,’ said Wilver. ‘We have a

shortage of time. I will volunteer to carry the article out to

this Smith, but threaten to smash it unless the line is

cleared. I will wait there in the open until the train is ready to

move, and only then set it down and return. That will show

Smith we are serious.’

‘Are you sure, Mr Wilver?’ Bassit asked anxiously. ‘How do

you know you can trust him?’

‘I am willing to take the risk,’ Wilver said unperturbed.

‘There is no other way to expedite our departure and ensure

a proper end to this affair. Please give me the Imnulate,

Professor.’

Hesitantly, Bernice handed the inflated bag over to Wilver,

who wrapped a couple of fabric-clad tentacles securely about

it, still clasping his bowler and umbrella in the others.

‘No, I can’t let you take the risk,’ Bernice said suddenly,

and tried to pull the bag back. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘No, Professor Summerfield,’ Wilver said, still holding on

firmly, ‘there is no need to risk yourself.’

‘I insist,’ Bernice said, tugging harder.

Wilver jerked his umbrella upward. There was a flash and

crack from its tip. Tallia Astall screamed. A section of the

ceiling exploded into sparks and a billow of smoke carried the

smell of burnt plastic over their heads. Everybody flinched

back in surprise. Bernice abruptly released her hold on the

bag and stepped back, even as Brandon and Deek swung

their guns round to cover Wilver.

‘No!’ she said commandingly. ‘It’s not worth it. We can’t risk

a fight in here. Innocent people will get hurt. Mr Bassit, tell

them to let Wilver out through the doors downstairs.’

Bassit spoke urgently into his collar communicator.

‘That is most sensible,’ said Wilver, swinging his umbrella

gun about him menacingly as he edged towards the door. ‘Do

not interfere and you will not be harmed. You know I do not

like my plans perturbed.’

Warwick Verson suddenly lunged forward, hands clawing

for the Imnulate’s cocoon. Wilver’s umbrella cracked and he

fell to the floor, clasping a smoking hole in the thigh of his

suit and groaning in pain.

‘Next time I shall not be so forbearing,’ Wilver warned. He

backed out of the room and down the stairs. As he

disappeared Ellyn Verson knelt by her wounded husband as

Bassit called for Pell to attend. The other passengers began to

babble in consternation.

‘Quiet!’ Bernice snapped out.

‘You going to let the little crek get away with it?’ Klemp

growled at her in apparent disgust.

‘Yes,’ she said simply, pushing her way over to the window

and pulling aside a corner of the blind. She saw the

emergency ladder unfold from the coupler module below

them and touch the ground. The door slid open and Wilver

appeared and descended the steps with his precious burden

As soon as he was down he scuttled away up the slope

mottled with patches of melting snow towards the trees and

the waiting line of Smith’s men.

Bernice let the blind drop back and turned to face the

others.

‘He bought it,’ she said with relief. ‘Well done, Tyne. Now

we can work on getting out of here.’

There was a look of utter bewilderment on almost every

face in the room.

‘It was a fake, wasn’t it?’ said Costermann in a flat voice,

breaking the silence.

‘That’s right,’ Bernice confirmed. ‘We couldn’t move until

we’d flushed Smith’s agent out into the open and got rid of

him.’ She glanced down at the Versons. ‘Sorry, but it could

have been any one of you and I had to be sure.’

Klemp suddenly roared with laughter, and Bernice raised

her hands to stem the fresh babble of questions.

‘No time to explain more now! We’ve only bought ourselves

a few more minutes, then Smith will resort to Plan B.

Meanwhile we need we need to blast that tree ahead of us.

Costermann, you used to be a chemist, right?’

He blinked. ‘Yes. What of it?’

‘Can you whip up a home-made bomb? Never knew a

chemist who hadn’t played with making little bangs just for

fun when he was younger. Use anything you need from the

cargo or medical supplies.’

Costermann gathered himself. ‘I’ll do my best, Professor.’

‘Right, get moving. Bassit will help you.’ Costermann and

Bassit left. Pell appeared and started tending to Warwick

Verson’s leg.

‘But you can’t just walk out there and place a bomb under

that tree,’ Denn Lankril said. ‘They’d shoot you down before

you went five steps.’

‘That possibility had occurred to me,’ said Bernice dryly,

turning to Yorland. ‘Have you got any more of those poles you

used to stabilize the landslide?’

‘Yes, a few.’

‘Then rig up a length about six, seven metres long, with a

h(x)k on the end. I’ll also need an electric firing circuit with

about fifteen metres of flex.’

‘That should be easy enough.’

‘Then go to it.’ She turned to the others. ‘I don’t know

whether you’ll be safer in a group or spread out along the

upper compartments: pros and cons either way. But as

Wilver thinks you’ll all be in here, we’ll leave this room empty

just in case. Wherever you go, keep low, use the furniture for

cover and don’t show any lights. Be ready to move quickly if

you have to - and to fight if you must. Now get out of here.

Things are going to get very busy in a minute.’

The squat form of the Kingfisher rested in a blackened

clearing in the trees.

Its otherwise sleek grey skin was pockmarked with

recessed thruster nozzle clusters, while from its tail

protruded oversized drive tubes. It had small viewports

covered by sliding shutters, retractable stubby wings and

sturdily braced landing legs.

Escorted by two of Smith’s mercenaries, Wilver climbed its

extended ramp and passed through the airlock. Smith was

waiting for him on the other side.

‘That was close, Lorrix,’ he commented. ‘I was almost ready

to move in when the Imnulate turned up.’

Wilver flicked a couple of tentacles airily. ‘An annoyance. I

had to extemporize. It was well you held back. But the

operation has concluded successfully, and there are even

compensations.’

‘Such as?’

‘You will not need to employ crude force to release the

Imnulate from its container. The unknown thief has done it

for us.’

He rested Tyne’s bag on the deck and opened the valve. The

bag deflated. He reached into the folds and proudly withdrew

the Imnulate.

Wilver’s mobile eyes swivelled wildly.

Smith gaped, momentarily speechless.

The thing in Wilver’s hands was an amalgam of shredded

surgical gloves and pieces of clear plastic sheeting, roughly

taped and glued together, which had then been varnished

with window repair sealant to make a rigid shell and finally

filled with blue tinted water to give it weight and substance.

Wilver found speech at last.

‘I do not understand... it looked real...’ His eyes rolled

again. ‘Of course, the man Tyne never kept still long enough

to allow close inspection. Deception! I... we, all saw what we

wanted to see!’

Smith took the facsimile from Wilver’s trembling grasp and

held the crude shape in his hands for a moment, as though

examining it intently. Then his features contorted into a

savage snarl and he hurled it against the bulkhead, where it

burst in a shower of water and shreds of plastic. He took a

deep breath, straightened his collar, and was his normal self

again.

He raised his wrist comm to his lips. ‘Smith calling Polar

Express.’

Bernice answered almost immediately. ‘Hello Smith. I

thought you might be calling.’

‘That was clever. Professor. I assume you were

responsible?’

‘Guilty, but unrepentant.’

‘You are testing my patience. My deadline expired almost

ten minutes ago. Hand over the real Imnulate immediately.’

‘Believe me. Smith, we would if we could. Ask your friend

Wilver if you didn’t hear it all for yourself. That debate in the

lounge was genuine. The majority view is that if we had the

Imnulate we’d give it to you. But we haven’t and that’s the

simple truth.’

‘Then you have been deceived. It is still on board.’

‘Can’t you admit the possibility that you might be wrong?

Wishful thinking doesn’t change the facts. Somebody

smuggled the Imnulate off the train. I don’t know how, but

they did. We’d let you on board to look for yourself, but

proving the negative case will take more time than you can

spare. Besides which the general consensus is that we can’t

trust you. Perhaps you project the wrong image? Have you

ever thought of calling in a public relations consultant?’

‘I’m not a man to be insulted lightly. Professor -’

‘Then I’ll insult you heavily: don’t be a bloody self-

delusional fool! Ask Wilver how thoroughly we searched the

train, including Costermann’s compartment, by the way.

Then ask him how many guns he saw on board. We’re not

exactly defenceless, and if you start anything, remember

we’ve got nothing to lose. Be smart. Go back to where you

came from.’

Wilver was looking thoughtful. ‘It is possible she is telling

the truth, Smith.’

‘No!’ Smith said sharply, ‘I will not believe it until I have

seen it is so with my own eyes.’ He changed comm channels.

‘Smith to Team One: open up that train!’

The Express was a dark mass lying inert along the track. No

light showed from within. The early winter night had fallen,

and the only illumination in the wooded valley came from the

grey clouds rolling overhead. An electrical storm played about

some distant peak beyond the valley walls, and added only

an occasional diffuse flicker to the setting. A gusty cold wind

stirred the heavy boughs of the trees. In the black shadows

under them figures moved purposefully, their senses boosted

by night-sight goggles.

Then a signal was given, unseen and unheard by those on

the train.

Small-arms fire raked the length of the Express, making

everybody dive for cover. Windows starred and cracked. An

armour-piercing missile flashed out of the darkness and

struck the rearmost service car, punching a hole in the side

and exploding within. The shock jolted the whole train.

Atmospheric integrity alarms began to sound. In reply a

fusillade of shots stabbed out into the woods from the

coupler module doors. Grenades were lobbed out of the

darkness to bounce and burst on the ground, sending out

billows of thick smoke that swirled about the Express as it

was whipped up by the wind. In seconds the defenders we

blinded.

In Yorland’s monitor room Bernice scanned the bank of

small screens displaying pictures from the external cameras,

normally used to check the hatches while it was loading and

unloading in a station. As the smoke screen closed over them

she rapidly adjusted the camera contrast. Faintly she made

out dark forms in bulky suits swarming up from under the

train.

Why hadn’t she seen them come out of the woods? Of

course, they must have come along the line underneath the

track! She’d underestimated the opposition. Smith was too

smart to try a frontal assault. She saw arms reaching upward

and heard dull clunks against the outer doors of the coupler

modules. She hit a speaker button: ‘Defenders: get clear of

the outer doors - they’re mining them!’

On the monitors she saw the defenders scrambling back

into the carriages and shutting the inner doors. A screen lit

up with a dazzling flash, and a shiver ran through the frame

of the train, then another and another as blasts went off in

the first five coupler modules, blowing out the external door

locks.

As expected, they were concentrating all their efforts on the

front of the train.

There was a blast close by. That was the engine coupler

module! There came the crack of gunfire and the sound of a

scream cut short. They mustn’t lose control of the engine

itself!

Time to play the all-action hero again, she thought grimly

to herself. She snapped down her suit visor, drew her gun

and opened the door.

The corridor was red-lit, with only minimal nightlights

operating. One of the defenders was crouching by the half

open door at the end of the car. There was a crumpled body

lying beside him. Even as Bernice took this in the man rose

and fired a couple of snap shots through the gap in the door.

A heavier blast lashed back at him from the coupler module

compartment, striking him in the chest. As he reeled

backwards Bernice sprinted forward. The door started to

slide open and she snapped off a discouraging shot. The

muzzle of a gun appeared round the edge of the frame. She

dived flat as a blast bolt blazed over her head, skidded

through the doorway on her stomach, twisted like an eel and

fired upwards, hitting the chest of the figure in the black

combat suit. He staggered backwards under the impact but

did not fall, the blast absorbed by his body armour. Her next

shot went straight through his faceplate. His legs buckled

and he slid limply down the wall.

As Bernice scrambled upright a hand reached over die sill

of the module’s twisted and half open outer door. She lunged

forward, thrust out her gun and tired point blank at the

helmeted head below. The hand vanished followed an instant

later by a heavy thump. She snatched up the gun the first

intruder had dropped, fumbled to find the action control, set

it to continuous, reached blindly over the door sill and

sprayed the ground below the train with fire until the charge

died.

Blaster bolts exploded around the door frame and she dived

backwards into the corridor, cradling her own pistol to her

chest. She saw a figure in a TGR suit bob into sight beyond

the shattered window panel of the engine compartment door

opposite and fire an automatic weapon out through it and

the module’s outer door into the darkness.

‘Where were you?’ she called out.

‘Sorry... one of them got in here... had to stop him before he

reached the cab,’ came the reply, which Bernice recognized

belonged to Cobb, the Express’s second driver.

‘Is he dead?’

‘I think so... I’ve never done this sort of thing before.’

‘Well, you’ll get plenty of practice tonight.’

In a utility room in Service 2, Bassit watched Costermann

mixing carefully measured portions from various cartons and

flasks that had formerly contained cleaning chemicals. The

sounds of fighting got louder but Costermann did not even

flinch. Bassit thought he’d never seen anybody so

determined.

Then came a burst of fire in the corridor outside.

‘Keep working,’ Bassit told Costermann, as he reluctantly

drew his pistol and stepped towards the door.

Deek reeled back into the corridor, dropping his gun and

clutching the smoking hole in the arm of his suit. Brandon

reached past him and shot the attacker three times at point-

blank range as Deek slapped an emergency patch over the

hole. Two more figures tumbled into the coupler module lock,

firing into the corridor. Brandon shot one even as a bolt

burnt through his leg, dropping him to the ground.

Deek hurled his massive bulk forward, smashing the

remains of the door aside and crashed into the remaining

raider. Before the man could recover, Deek had picked him

up with his good arm and thrown him bodily out through the

open outer door and back into the night from which he had

come.

* * *

Huddling between the protective walls of upturned chairs

and mattresses, Clarris Sommers heard footsteps cross the

roof of their compartment.

‘Father... there’s someone up there!’

Even as she spoke something slapped against the curving

lounge rooflight.

‘Get down!’ her father commanded.

The circular section of rooflight blew inwards, cut cleanly

through by a shaped ring charge. Clarris felt her suit tighten

slightly as the pressure dropped and a blast of Tempest air

rushed in.

Before they could recover themselves, two dark figures had

dropped into the room. The beam of a rifle-mounted torch

swung about until it came to rest on them, probing dazzlingly

through their faceplates.

‘Where is it!’ an amplified voice demanded. ‘The Drell idol!

Speak up or one of you gets hurt.’

‘We don’t know!’ Clarris shouted.

Her father lunged at the nearest of the raiders, only to be

knocked aside with a contemptuous swing of his rifle butt.

‘Right, you’re volunteering,’ the booming voice said.

Clarris screamed.

Just then the stair door burst open.

In a crouching run Bernice headed back down the service car

corridor. The body of one of the attackers lay half in the

doorway of the kitchen. A meat cleaver was embedded in the

side of his neck. Inside Jean-Louis stood defiantly holding a

long knife.

‘Are you all right?’ Bernice asked.

‘Never attack a cook in his own kitchen,’ Jean-Louis replied

simply.

The single raider who dropped into the lounge of Stateroom A

found it deserted. The door to one of the bedrooms leading off

it was closed, the other wide open. Even as he took this in,

there came a scrape and soft bump from behind the closed

door. He stepped towards it, levelling his gun at the lock.

As he did so a figure silently emerged from behind the open

bedroom door and shot him three times rapidly and

precisely.

‘Not in my backyard,’ Klemp said to the fallen figure. ‘OK,

girls, you can come out now.’

Bernice made her way through the First Class cars to Service

2, diving through the coupling modules between bursts of fire

and encouraging the defenders as she went. Including those

in Service 1, she counted eight attackers’ bodies and five of

their own. How many were dead she did not stay to check.

Crossing the last module there was no incoming fire at all.

Were they winning?

She found another black-clad body at the end of the

corridor of Service 2. Yorland and Bassit were standing guard

over the sickbay rooms. Through the cracked and patched

faceplate of his helmet she saw Bassit had a temporary

dressing over one side of his head. He looked very pale.

‘Are you OK?’ Bernice asked anxiously.

‘Thank you... I have been better, Professor. I do not like

guns, I’m afraid.’

Yorland said, ‘I managed to get your rod and trigger

finished before I got interrupted.’

‘Good.’

She peered into the cramped surgery itself, its windows

barricaded with tables. Pell and his assistants were working

on three casualties, enveloped in emergency pressure tents.

Tyne was inside nervously standing guard, trying not to look

at the medical procedures taking place around him.

‘Is Ferlane all right?’

‘Yes, his room wasn’t touched.’

‘Stay here. There’ll be more patients along soon, I’m afraid.’

Pell looked up from his work. ‘Is the train safe?’

‘I think the worst may be over - at least for the moment.’

She returned to the corridor. The sound of gunfire was

definitely fading. Bassit was listening to voices coming over

his intercom channel. ‘They say Smith’s men have pulled

back to the woods...’ They could hear ragged cheering

echoing along the train.

Costermann appeared from a side room, carefully carrying

a plastic carton of grey-brown powder which he presented to

Bernice.

‘This is your bomb. I’m not certain of its yield, but I

promise it will go off with quite a bang.’

Bernice nodded. ‘Right, now it’s our turn. Before Smith

decides to bring out his heavy guns!’

17

FLIGHT

Smith stood on the Kingfisher’s ramp, suited and braced

against the wind that hissed through the trees, and looked

down on the survivors of his assault force illuminated by the

airlock lights.

„I thought I‟d chosen the best team money could buy,‟ he

said disdainfully. „One capable of applying force with the

minimum of collateral damage. Apparently I was wrong.‟

„You never said they‟d have so many beamers,‟ one of the

mercenaries complained bitterly. „And they knew how to use

them. We lost over the odds. Good mates too.‟

There was a mutter of agreement from his comrades.

„You should never have given them that hour to prepare,‟

somebody called out.

„When I wish for tactical advice I shall ask for it,‟ Smith

said coldly. „Meanwhile you will use the heavy weapons Start

with the engine and the last car. Don‟t hit anything else

unless I tell you. I trust you can do that successfully?‟

Just then a bright light filtered up through the trees from

where the Express lay.

All the Express’s external lights, except the big forward-

facing lamps, had been turned full on: loading spots, stair

courtesy strips and running lights. They lit the ground on

both sides of the track all the way to the edge of the trees,

only dimmed by occasional flurries of sparkling sleety rain. In

fact there was only one part of the train that was not picked

out by their brilliance.

Bernice slithered out of the hatch in the roof of the engine

compartment and lay as flat as her suit permitted, grasping

the recessed handrails that ran along the gently curving apex

of the hull to brace herself against the wind. It had been her

idea, so she could hardly ask anybody else to go. At least her

arm was not giving her any trouble, thanks to another shot of

painkillers from Pell, and now that she was committed and

under way the fear had gone. As long as the diversion of the

lights worked. They had not used them before because the

attackers would have simply shot them out. They might do

that now, but it would take a minute or two. And two

minutes was all she needed.

From below, Yorland handed up the composite rod with the

battery at one end and the bomb suspended from a hook on

the other. Running between two and looping about the rod

was the flex of the firing circuit. Yorland gave her a thumbs-

up and pulled the hatch to again. She would have liked

company, but one person was less likely to be seen as two

and her only protection lay in remaining unobserved.

She began to edge her way forward along the roof, drawing

the improvised devices along with her. She had five metres to

go before the nose of the engine began to curve down and

away. Beyond that was the tree barricade. Before the lights

were put on, Murcell had edged the train slowly forward until

it was almost touching it once again. She hoped Smith would

not notice the slight shift in their position.

Small-arms fire flashed from the shadows of the woods and

she felt the shots explode against the side of the carriages. A

light on the side of the train exploded in a shower of glittering

fragments. Bolts of fire lashed back, exploding against tree

trunks and sending glowing embers dancing away with the

wind. A wild shot grazed the roof ten centimetres in front of

Bernice‟s outstretched hand. She snatched it away

instinctively, watching molten splashes of metal cool rapidly

through cherry red and into blackness.

She edged on. Reach forward, pull, slither. Reach, pull,

slither. Reach, pull -

Another light blew out, and another. Darkness was starting

to creep back towards them.

Then she was over the nose of the train.

In the reflected glare of the train lights she could see a

cable running tautly from the upper branches of the tree

down to the ground on the other side of the track from the

main trunk. Murcell had been right: if they‟d tried to push it

aside it would have torn the train off the track. The branches

spread widely so that she could almost have reached out and

touched the tip of the nearest. But the bomb had to be placed

precisely, in contact with the trunk itself.

With an effort of will she shut out all sensations of the

battle, concentrating only on the task before her. Still lying

perfectly flat she slid the rod forward, pushing the dangling

bomb on its end quickly across the empty air until it was

hidden by the foliage. Carefully she guided it on to a fork

between two branches were they joined the main trunk. A

twist of her wrist and the bomb was released from the hook.

It remained in place. She withdrew the rod, letting the flex

slide off it until it was free.

„Ready,‟ she said into her suit microphone.

The Express began to glide slowly backwards. As it did so

she paid out the flex coiled about the battery pack. They

couldn‟t risk setting off the bomb too close to the engine and

driver‟s compartment. The fire from the woods redoubled.

They knew something was up, but they hadn‟t spotted her

yet. Just give us another thirty seconds, she thought

fervently. Something exploded against a rear carriage, the

flash briefly illuminating the whole valley. The roof kicked

under her, jerking her head forward and down so the chin of

her helmet banged sharply against the metal. They had

deployed the heavy weapons. Smith was running out of

patience. Lifting her head dizzily she continued unreeling the

flex.

The Express’s nose was eight metres back from the tree

when holts of fire began to cut the air over her head and

burst about the edge of the roof, kicking up splashes of metal

and plastic sheathing. Something struck her backpack and

she felt a wash of heat along her side.

„Now, Professor!‟ Bassit‟s voice blared in her earphones.

She curled up in a ball and pressed the switch on the

battery pack.

A sheet of red and yellow flame boiled up into the sky, for a

moment defying the force of the wind, even as a booming roar

almost deafened her. Flaming fragments of shattered trunk

and twisted branches cartwheeled away into the night, some

bouncing across the train roof and one striking her on the

arm. Then everything vanished in a cloud of black smoke

which shredded in the wind even as it billowed around the

front of the train.

For a moment the valley was perfectly still as defender and

attacker alike waited to see the result of the blast. Bernice

uncurled and snatched a glance ahead.

Where the tree had been there was only a blackened scar

on the track.

„Go!‟ she roared.

But the Express was already moving. For the first time its

headlamps blazed into life.

And, starkly illuminated by the beams, Bernice saw three

raiders standing on the track in front of them.

Even as she took them in, realizing they must have

mounted the track while shielded from view by the tree

barricade, one of them lifted the long thick lube of a missile

launcher to his shoulder. As he did so the Express’s rarely

used horn blared out its strident warning and the train

surged forward under maximum power.

The sight and sound of the oncoming engine obviously

unnerved the raiders. There was a flash from the muzzle of

the launcher and Bernice ducked instinctively as an

untargeted projectile flashed harmlessly overhead.

Then the Express was on them. She had a momentary

glimpse of two figures leaping for their lives off the track. The

missile launcher clanged against the prow of the engine and

spun away into the darkness. A final hail of energy bolts

followed after them from the ambush site. It was a futile

gesture. Already they were pulling out of effective range as

the spiky silhouettes of the valley trees began slipping past at

increasing speed.

Bernice realized she was still clutching the battery pack.

She tossed it over the side and clung weakly to the handrail.

They‟d done it! Smith would never catch them now.

„Are you all right, Professor?‟ Bassit‟s voice enquired

anxiously.

„I‟m fine. Keep going. I‟m coming in.‟ She began to edge

back towards the hatch, impelled by the growing force of the

wind.

She was just two metres from it when a hand reached up

over the side of the engine and clasped the handrail in front

of her. Even as she gaped at it in astonishment, the third

member of the missile launcher crew hauled himself on to

the top of the engine.

Neither of them had time to draw their sidearms. With his

free hand the raider drove his fist into her stomach even as

Bernice kicked out savagely for his shins. They both gasped

in pain, rolling from side to side across the roof with the

swaying of the train, desperately clinging to the handrail. The

raider reached across and smashed his clenched fist on to

hers where it gripped the rail. She gasped in pain as her hold

broke and she started to slide. In desperation she grabbed

hold of her attacker about the waist. They rolled and he came

to his knees, trying to tear her free, pounding ineffectually on

her backpack. She gathered her legs under her and lifted,

trying to pick him off his feet and throw him clear. Suddenly

they were both on their feet, leaning at an absurd angle into

the wind, each trying to gain leverage against the other. They

twisted about and for a moment the raider had his back to

the wind. Bernice fell backwards, doubled up one leg, planted

a foot in his stomach and heaved. Propelled by the onrushing

air he went flying over her head. He struck the roof behind

her, bounced once wildly and then vanished over the side of

the train into the darkness.

Bernice felt herself slithering after him, rearwards and

sideways across the roof. She scrabbled for the handrail but

missed her hold. Her head and shoulders slid over the edge.

Then something caught her ankle.

Yorland was leaning half out of the roof hatch, one hand

grasping its coaming while the other held firmly on to her.

„Don‟t you know... passengers are not permitted to leave

the train... while it‟s in motion,‟ he said, grunting with effort

as he pulled her back.

A helpless fit of laughter overtook Bernice, and she was

almost too weak to pull herself round and grasp Yorland‟s

arm. Feebly she scrabbled her way into the hatch with his

help and found the steps below with her feet.

„Thanks,‟ she said.

„Any time.‟

The wind buffeted them. They must have been getting up

towards a hundred kph. But Bernice braced herself against

the side of the hatch and took one last look at the ambush

valley.

She was just in time to see it lit up by a brilliant blue light.

„What the hell‟s that!‟ said Yorland.

The light reflected off the lower clouds, throwing their

billowing forms into strange relief. Then a bullet-like shape

rose up from the valley, riding an intense spear of blue-white

light.

„Smith had a lander!‟ Yorland said in amazement. „By God,

he took a chance setting down here.‟

„Of course. We never thought how he got there or how he

was going to get away afterwards,‟ said Bernice. „We should

have known he‟d have something like that.‟

„He won‟t make it twice. The air sheers and turbulence

above the first layer‟ll get him.‟

But the craft was already cutting a smooth arc in the sky,

brushing the clouds and then plunging down along the

course of the monorail track. Bernice saw the bullet shape

become a perfect circle of blackness, haloed by a nimbus of

blue fire, growing larger by the second. It was coming at them

head on!

She pulled the incredulous Yorland down the steps and slid

the hatch shut over their heads.

„You can‟t fly on Tempest!‟ Yorland protested, almost as

though it was a mantra.

„Apparently Smith thinks otherwise,‟ Bernice snapped back

as she unlatched the inner airlock door. „It‟s not over yet. Is

there a tunnel close by?‟

„The rest of the way to Thule‟s all above ground.‟

„Then we‟ve got to run for it as fast as we can.‟

„But we can‟t. There may be structural damage...‟ They

piled through the door into the drive compartment. „She may

not hold together if we go any faster.‟

„There‟s no other choice,‟ Bernice said. „If we don‟t -‟

Her words were drowned by a howling roar that was born of

no natural wind. The train rocked dangerously as the

shockwave struck it. Then the roar receded as fast as it had

come.

Bernice pushed Yorland forward. „Tell Murcell to give it

everything he‟s got!‟

„It‟ll be suicide!‟

„So will letting Smith get hold of us again. I think he‟s

through playing Mr Nice Guy!‟ She started off back down the

train.

„What are you going to do?‟

„Talk to him. You never know...‟

Smith‟s voice was already issuing from Bassit‟s office link

as she entered.

„...Summerfield? Please answer. Professor Summerfield...‟

This time there was a face to go with the voice. It was

distorted by Tempest‟s unstable electromagnetic background,

fading and growing as the range between them varied, but

the surprisingly mild features were clearly displayed. Bassit

was sitting staring at it with a look of hopeless dismay visible

through his faceplate.

Bernice took a seat before the link and reciprocated by

turning on its camera.

Smith smiled. It was an expression of satisfaction without a

trace of humour. „Ah, there you are. Professor Summerfield. I

so wanted to see you face to face, just this once.‟

„Before I die, you mean?‟

„Very possibly. I hold you largely responsible for the

setbacks I have suffered. I am right in attributing the

Express’s unexpected departure to your ingenuity?‟

„I‟d think of it more as a team effort, but I certainly put in

my six pennyworth.‟

„No matter, you will do. It is easier to focus all one‟s

displeasure on one individual, don‟t you think?‟

„I couldn‟t say. I try not to get paranoid about such things.‟

„I‟m not paranoid, Professor, merely very angry. Anyway,

you have now reduced me to employing the crudest tactics

against you. I shall have to force the Express off the tracks,

and hope to recover the Imnulate intact from the wreckage.‟

„Won‟t that be a little dangerous for you as well?‟

„Not really. You see, I am flying a very special craft.‟

„So I noticed.‟

„It was built to explore the cloud islands of Thaon, in the

interests of pure scientific research, naturally. I appropriated

it to serve a more profitable use. It has special high thrust

fast response attitude control jets, coupled with an adaptive

computer stabilizing program. This allows me to manoeuvre

freely even in Tempest‟s notoriously unforgiving atmosphere,

as you can see...‟

The ship dropped down from somewhere above them into

view through Bassit‟s scarred window. Multiple spears of

blue flame spouted from the recessed attitude thrusters in its

sides, kicking the craft back on to a steady course as the

violently shifting winds tried to wipe it from the sky.

„It also has a specially toughened hull,‟ Smith continued,

„so it will come to no harm when it pushes you off the tracks.

Goodbye, Professor...‟

The craft banked towards them, filling the window. They

instinctively ducked as it hurtled overhead, the blaze of the

tailjet briefly turning night to day. Then the Shockwave

struck, sending them staggering as the whole train yawed

sickeningly. From somewhere under their feet came a scream

of metal, and yellow sparks flew past the window.

Slowly they settled on an even keel again.

She could hear the beeping of a warning buzzer relayed

over the phone link. Smith had pulled his head back from the

pickup and was looking to one side. Wilver‟s voice could

faintly be heard saying, „That was too close, Smith. Employ

restraint!‟

„No, it wasn‟t close enough!‟ Smith retorted. „How do you

override this system?‟

A third voice said, „It‟s automatic unless we‟re in landing

mode.‟

„But I don‟t want to land, you fool. Cut the circuit!‟

Underneath his calm eloquent veneer Smith was an angry

and impatient man, Bernice realized. But how fragile was

that mask and to what lengths would his obsession with

obtaining the Imnulate drive him? No time like the present to

find out.

„Having trouble. Smith?‟ she said loudly. „You‟re big on

threats but weak on execution. Can‟t you fly that thing?

Didn‟t you remember to steal the operator‟s manual as well?

And you‟ve neglected to install external weaponry I see. Tut,

tut. I thought you were a professional. We‟re just a bunch of

amateurs, but we‟re getting away from you.‟

„The respite is purely temporary, I assure you, Professor,‟

Smith rasped. Then aside: „Disengage it. Tear it out if you

have to!‟

Bernice turned off the phone. „When does the line pass

through the next narrow section?‟ she asked Bassit urgently.

„Narrow?‟

„Mountains, steep-sided valley, that sort of thing. Preferably

with plenty of twists and turns in the track.‟

Bassit checked his desk-top display. „Er... Spinder‟s Pass.

We‟ll be there in four minutes at this speed. We‟ll have to

slow down.‟

„No, we go as fast as we can. Now, can we do anything else

to improve the odds?‟ she said half to herself. „Small arms are

no good and he‟d ignore them anyway... something

unexpected.‟ She turned to Bassit. i don‟t suppose you‟ve got

any emergency flares on board?‟

„Well, yes. There are launch tubes built into the engine

roof-‟

„Are there now...‟

„But surely they won‟t do any damage to -‟

„Sorry, no time to explain. Tell everybody to brace

themselves - it‟s going to be a bumpy ride!‟

The Express was swaying wildly as Bernice made her way

forward to the driver‟s cab. Murcell was hunched intently

over his controls, while Yorland was attending the

engineering console on which several red lights were

blinking.

„Smith‟s trying to run us off the track,‟ she said.

„So I guessed.‟

„But his ship won‟t let him get close enough. It must have

proximity sensors that automatically take over and steer it

clear of any solid object.‟

„Then we‟re safe.‟

„No, he‟s cutting them out of the system. Where are the

emergency flare controls?‟

Yorland pointed to a flip-cover guarded toggle switch and

button. „Throw to arm and press to fire. But why -‟

„You‟ll see.‟ She called over to Murcell, „How long to

Spinder‟s Pass?‟

„Er... about a minute.‟

„Know it well?‟

„Been through it a couple of hundred times.‟

„Good. Think you can do it blindfold?‟

„What?‟

„Here‟s what you do…‟

* * *

The pilot of the Kingfisher snapped a cover panel back into

place.

„The auto-system is off line, Mr Smith,‟ he reported.

„Good. This time push them off the rails.‟

„This is unwise,‟ Wilver said from the other acceleration

couch. „I have my doubts that the Imnulate is on board.‟

„I analysed all your reports and those of the police,‟ Smith

retorted, „and conclude there is little chance it could have

been removed from the train at the time of the crime. The

subsequent killing of Merch and the likely attempt on Ferlane

indicate in all probability that it is still there.‟

„Even so it may be damaged in the crash.‟

„It‟s tough and the train is solidly built as we have learnt.

There is a reasonable chance it will survive. In any case the

Kedd will not mind a few cracks, but if we miss this

opportunity the Imnulate will be so closely guarded in future

nobody will be able to get near it!‟

The screens showed a bleak landscape unrolling before

them. Black valleys and snowcapped peaks. Ahead these

merged into a jagged mountain range whose summits were

lost in the faintly luminous clouds. The line ran through a

cleft between them. A single spear of brilliant white light

shone out in the darkness where the glowing snake of the

Express raced along the winding track.

The Kingfisher dropped out of the sky towards it.

„The terrain is unsuitable for such manoeuvrings,‟ Wilver

said in alarm. „Wait until they‟re clear on the other side.‟

„No. Every minute brings them closer to Thule and means

less time to find the Imnulate. As it is we may have to use the

ship to discourage any rescue parties from interfering while

we search.‟

„It‟s rather tight down there, Mr Smith,‟ the pilot said.

„This craft was built to be controllable whatever the

conditions. Aim for the engine itself. If that topples the rest

will follow.‟

The Kingfisher hurtled along the line of the track as it

snaked around the sheer side of a canyon whose floor was

lost in darkness. They steadily overhauled the fleeing Express,

and this time there was no proximity warning or overriding of

the controls to interfere. The pilot eased them alongside until

they were flying parallel with the train, gliding past its rows

of lighted windows. Smith could see passengers staring out

at them. Did they know they were about to die? Then they

were opposite the engine. He could see its brilliant beams

swaying from side to side, alternately blazing against rock

walls and stabbing out into the empty air as it took the

banked bends. They would have themselves over in a minute,

he thought ironically.

„Now!‟ he commanded.

The Kingfisher banked sideways towards the engine.

The train vanished as every light on it simultaneously went

out.

Plunged into virtual darkness the Kingfisher flew through

the point where the Express should have been. But it was no

longer there.

Instinctively the pilot pulled back and up on the joystick,

just as the air outside the hurtling craft seemed to explode in

dazzling bolts of fire and bursting balls of crimson flame that

licked around the ports. It was only natural that the pilot

should flinch away from them, momentarily disorientated as

he tried to switch back to flying by instruments alone. He

saw they were drifting into the sheer rugged wall of the valley

and tried to veer off, but it was too late for human reactions

to save them now.

And there were no longer any operational mechanical

safeguards to correct his error.

The Kingfisher grazed the rockface high above the monorail

track with a shower of sparks, rebounded in an are out

across the canyon spinning wildly and struck its opposite

wall full on.

The explosion lit up the mountains with a flash of intense

yellow-white light. It illuminated the Express, still slowing

under the full power of its brakes. A fireball boiled upward

until it licked the lowest clouds. An incandescent mass of

tangled wreckage dropped out of the flaming crater it had

gouged in the mountainside and tumbled freely over and over

into the depths with a shrieking roar. It struck the ice-

rimmed river that ran along the canyon floor with a mighty

splash, bursting into red-hot fragments that were swallowed

up in a cloud of steam and smoke.

From the cab of the Express, Bernice watched the glowing

remains until the curve of the track hid them from view.

„Goodbye, Mr Smith,‟ she said softly.

18

JIGSAW

On the other side of the mountains, where the track ran

straight and level over a snowfield, the Polar Express came to

a halt. Yorland, together with his mechanics and

maintenance „servers, began checking the train‟s systems

and making essential repairs. Meanwhile, contact was re-

established with an anxious TGR control centre in Thule.

Bernice steeled herself to make the rounds of the train

assessing the casualties. It was while she was engaged in this

depressing task that she found Tyne in a corner of the

makeshift sickbay. He was sitting beside a body covered by a

white sheet.

His face held an expression of bleak, uncomprehending

dismay.

Gently, Bernice lifted a corner of the sheet. The still face

underneath belonged to the woman who had asked after

Tyne on the day of the near riot.

„You had her listed as Lyn Masco,‟ Tyne said in a faint

voice, answering her unspoken question. „Apparently one of

the windows in the upper deck was shot out and she was hit

by a stray bolt. They say it was quick. I knew her as Lil,

though that probably wasn‟t her real name. “Lil the Look”.

She kept watch or turned heads at the right moment so you

could make a switch. The smoothest operator you could want

to team with.‟

„So you weren‟t working here alone.‟

„No...‟ He buried his face in his hands. „But I wish I had

been. The idea was for me to pass on the Imnulate to her for

disposal once I‟d rigged the cargo hatch for the drop, and

then I‟d stay in First Class and act innocent. That was why

she was in another car. Or maybe we‟d work out some

diversion, depending on the set-up. She‟d have seen it

through, whatever. She was the best kind, know what I

mean? Never let you down.‟

„Did she have any family?‟

„I don‟t know. She never spoke of any.‟

„Do you want who she really was to come out?‟

„Can it be kept quiet?‟

„I‟ll see what I can do.‟

„I‟d like to take her back to the outer belt. She hadn‟t got

family, but there were friends. She deserves a proper send-

off. I‟ll pay whatever‟s needed.‟

Bernice looked at the grieving man and then about her at

the battle-scarred carriage. Yes, she thought, but who pays

for all of this? Smith and Wilver have gone, but there‟s still

an account to be settled.

The final casualty totals were eight dead - three crew and five

passengers - with seventeen more wounded and many minor

injuries which Pell was still treating. In addition the bodies of

eleven of Smith‟s raiders were still on board. Yorland was

leaving a compartment in the rear service car unhealed to

serve as a temporary mortuary.

Bernice and Bassit gave an account of what had occurred

to the police and TGR management.

„All that suffering for a piece of carved crystal,‟ Bassit said,

clearly deeply distressed. „Such a waste and so pointless.‟

„No,‟ Bernice gently corrected him. „Smith and Wilver and

his men died for a piece of blue crystal. That really was,

pointless. The people on the Express died protecting their

families and companions from something cruel and vicious.

That wasn‟t a meaningless sacrifice.‟ On the screen the

images of Hynds and Neelson both nodded. Bernice sighed,

still unable to reconcile her own conscience. „But I still

wonder if it could have been avoided. Did we do the wrong

thing? Perhaps we should have let Smith on board to search

the train?‟

„From his actions it‟s clear he was prepared to employ

terrorist tactics quite ruthlessly,‟ Hynds said. „If you had let

him on board, he might have killed just as many people

trying to force your unknown thief to hand the Imnulate over.

Even if you had been able to give him what he wanted, he

might have decided to leave no witnesses behind. Naturally

there‟ll be an official inquiry, but in the circumstances I‟m

sure they‟ll agree you had no choice. We may know better

when we find out more about both “Smith” and Wilver.‟

„Yes, what about this Wilver person?‟ Neelson asked

Bernice. „How did you discover he was Smith‟s agent? You

haven‟t explained what gave him away.‟

Bernice smiled grimly. „That was Smith‟s own fault,

actually. He‟d obviously planned for every eventuality, which

is why he wanted an agent on the train, but he

unintentionally gave him away. Wilver‟s job must have been

to discover the location of the Imnulate and as much as

possible about the security around it, so that he could direct

Smith‟s men straight to it when they sprang their trap. When

the Imnulate was stolen things got complicated. That was

why Wilver kept on trying to be helpful all the time and

offering his services, so he could find out how the

investigation was progressing. It was him who searched the

Versons‟ room, once he‟d worked out they were Drellites,

thinking they might have the Imnulate. He was speaking the

absolute truth when he said he wanted the Imnulate found.

But of course, it wasn‟t out of altruism.

„Anyway, as I said, Smith gave the game away. After we‟d

been stopped by the blocked line and he called us up, Smith

knew who I was when I replied even though I hadn‟t turned

the vision on. That suggested some very up-to-date inside

intelligence, since you were keeping a clampdown on the

details of who was involved in the investigation at your end. I

remembered Wilver had seen me go forward a couple of

minutes before, but though it made me suspicious, I couldn‟t

be sure. So I got Tyne, ironically one of the few people I could

trust, to make up the fake Imnulate and go through a little

charade to flush the spy out. I had to assemble all the first-

class passengers in one room to make it work, just in case it

was one of the others. Then I pushed things along until

Wilver, eager to get his hands on the Imnulate, was forced to

show his true colours. Then it was best to let him leave of his

own accord so we could plan our escape.‟

„But how did he contact Smith?‟ Neelson wondered.

„Probably through the regular comm system for most of the

journey, using some sort of code. Not so unusual; plenty of

legitimate businessmen use them. But after the ambush

when Smith was only a few hundred metres away, I think he

used a short range transmitter. Since he was never without

his umbrella and hat, and the umbrella turned out be a

concealed gun, I guess the hat held the transmitter - and

possibly other surveillance equipment so he could listen in

on our progress during the investigation.‟

„That sounds very likely,‟ Hynds agreed. „We should be able

to track down the relay to Smith‟s craft. It may have

something to do with the Skystation. Actually, they‟ve just

reported a suspicious death there

Two hours later they were still going over details and deciding

what news should be released to the public, once the

relatives of the dead and injured had been informed, when

Yorland came into Bassit‟s office. He looked tired but relieved

as he made his report.

„We‟ve closed off the damaged external coupler doors and

patched and braced all the holed windows until they‟re up to

spec. I‟ve got the air plants working at maximum to filter and

re-oxygenate. The train will smell like a suit locker for a few

days, but that can‟t be helped. We‟ll need a complete

workshop overhaul and service when we get in, but as long

as we don‟t exceed a hundred kph, we‟ll be able to reach

Thule under our own power.‟ Bernice saw Bassit‟s face lift.

„Well done, Mr Yorland,‟ Neelson said.

At seventeen thirty that evening, the Express slowly got under

way again.

The weather looked set fair at last, and even at a modest

speed, they would reach Thule by morning the next day. A

little later Yorland announced the air was back to an

acceptable standard, and they gratefully removed their suits.

Jean-Louis returned to his synthesizer and rapidly prepared

a selection of hot, sweet and savoury finger meals for the

whole train. He sent them out via a relay of „servers and they

were welcomed with spontaneous applause when they

appeared. Slowly a strange calm descended upon the train.

Some had returned to their compartments to fall into an

exhausted sleep, while others were too stimulated by what

they had experienced to think of rest. Apart from those who

had been close to the dead, whose grief would have to follow

the normal course, the rest were simply glad to be alive. In a

few hours they would be in Thule. Until then they could let

themselves relax at last, knowing that they had survived the

worst that fate could throw at them.

Bernice watched them almost enviously.

She couldn‟t sleep or rest, and prowled the corridors and

public rooms, hands thrust deep in her pockets and head

bowed. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, the consequence

of too many surprises and too little sleep over the last four

short but very busy days. Somewhere in the confusion she

had the feeling she had seen or heard something significant.

Or perhaps several things which seemed innocent separately

but when put together meant... what?

She found herself in the First Class lounge and ordered a

drink from the „server on duty. Just a little, she told herself.

She‟d gone without for three days. Perhaps now she needed

that vital lift.

The lounge was already occupied. In one comer Klemp‟s

party was gathered round the grand piano, which had

survived the raid unscathed. To Bernice‟s surprise Trinny

was sitting at it picking out a tune quietly, if not particularly

well, while Debra was frowning over some old genuine sheet

music scores and looking as though she might be about to

commit a song. Perhaps they had more talent, or at least

more nerve, than she gave them credit for. Brandon was

sitting beside them with his leg propped up on a rest, while

Deek‟s arm was in a sling. Klemp himself was beaming at

them paternally and probably wondering how much surviving

the journey firmly on the side of law and order would improve

his reputation. He raised his glass convivially to Bernice and

she reciprocated.

In the opposite comer of the lounge Clarris Sommers and

Denn Lankril sat side by side holding hands. Bernice walked

over to them, mildly surprised at their open display of

affection.

*I hope I‟m not going to have to break up a fight again if

your father finds you like this?‟ she asked.

Clarris beamed up at her slightly starry-eyed. „It‟s all right;

Father knows. It was because Denn was so brave when he

saved us from those men who broke into our compartment.‟

She turned back to Denn. „He was wonderful...‟

„Lucas hasn‟t had a miraculous change of heart,‟ Denn

admitted, „but he can‟t call me names any more and pretend

I‟m not good enough to see Clarris. So he agreed - at least, as

long as it‟s somewhere public.‟

„And I won‟t make it any more public,‟ Bernice said,

withdrawing gracefully. It really was an ill wind, she thought.

The Versons entered the lounge. Warwick walking with the

aid of a crutch. They found seats and quietly ordered drinks

from the „server.

„How‟s the leg?‟ Bernice asked, settling beside them.

„The doc says it‟ll heal OK, given the right treatment,‟

Warwick said.

„Sorry you got caught up in that little charade of mine. I

couldn‟t tell you the truth until Wilver was clear.‟

„We understand,‟ Ellyn said. She looked at Warwick

proudly. „My husband will insist on being brave and

foolhardy.‟

„Now then, Ell,‟ he gently chided her. „I couldn‟t let him take

it without trying, could I? I thought it was the real thing.‟

Ellyn smiled sadly, looking about her. „I cannot believe our

Imnulate has caused so much suffering when it was meant to

bring people together in harmony and love. We feel... well,

responsible.‟

„Don‟t blame yourselves for the likes of Smith,‟ Bernice

said.

„We don‟t... but we didn‟t want to look as though we were

ashamed of our beliefs either, and were hiding away in our

cabin. That‟s why we came up here. If anybody wishes to talk

to us about what has happened they can, and we shall try to

explain the truth.‟

Her husband was frowning and rubbing his injured leg.

„I know our priest would have a fit if he heard me say it,

but after this I almost wish the Imnulate will never be found.‟

„Warwick!‟

„Sorry, Ell. But it does sort of make you wonder... if it

brings this much misery.‟

„Unfortunately, a physical symbol will always be a potential

hostage to fortune,‟ Bernice said. „If what you believe is

worthwhile, then it can‟t be contained or controlled by a

hunk of crystal. But people confuse the abstract with the

material. The Imnulate‟s become a symbol of power, and

unfortunately some people are impressed by such things and

have to possess them.‟

She frowned. Again there was that tantalizing feeling that

part of the solution was in her grasp. But it was as slippery

as a lost bar of soap in the bath, and it vanished into the

dark recesses of her mind once again.

She heard a child‟s voice on the stairs, and Tallia Astall

appeared with her father and mother close behind. Nyris

smiled wearily at Bernice.

„She wants to see if any stars are visible yet. She won‟t go

to sleep without checking, and our windows are so scorched

and cracked we can‟t tell.‟

Tallia had run to the curving observation windows and was

peering out and up excitedly. „Now there may not be anything

to see yet,‟ her father warned her. „Wait until we get to Thule.

We‟ll have plenty of chances then.‟

„You‟d think after what‟s happened she‟d have forgotten,‟

Nyris said. „She was terrified during the fighting, but an hour

later she was asking about the stars again.‟

„Up there. Daddy. Look!‟ Tallia said excitedly, pointing.

„Can I turn down the lights?‟ Lance Astall asked the rest of

the lounge. There was a general murmur of assent, and he

operated the switch. The room lights dimmed. Everybody

moved over to the windows, drawing Bernice with them.

A grey icefield stretched away into the night, faintly lit by

slightly lighter swirling clouds. At first Bernice could see

nothing, but then, as her eyes adjusted, she made out the

ragged line of deeper darkness almost directly above them. As

she watched it opened, revealing a velvet blackness. And

there, amid a shimmering curtain of auroral lights, were the

stars. There were a few stifled murmurs of appreciation from

the adults. Tallia Astall was less inhibited.

„Oh... they‟re beautiful! Like diamonds in your ring,

Mummy,‟ she said.

„Well, they‟re really suns a long way off,‟ her father said

gently.

„I know that, Daddy,‟ came the slightly indignant reply.

„Can I go to them one day?‟

„One day. If you‟re good and go to sleep when you‟re told

Bernice smiled and left quietly.

Down on the lower deck she passed through the coupler

module. Where the inner set of the module‟s external airlock

doors should have been was an empty blackened frame,

sealed off with heavy plastic sheeting and hung with garish

tapes warning passengers that it was out of order. She

walked down the corridor of A car, past the empty

compartments of Wilver and Merch. Tyne, she recalled, had

moved into Ferlane‟s vacant cabin for the last few hours of

the journey. This thought turned her steps towards the

surgery.

Ferlane was still unconscious and there had been no

change in his condition. Bernice stared down at his pale still

face for a long time, hoping the apparent expression of calm

it wore actually meant something.

The rest of the surgery was packed with folding beds

holding the wounded, and an adjacent storeroom had been

commandeered and turned into an additional makeshift

ward. Tyne‟s temporary cell was also in use, and she

reminded herself again to remember to put in a good word for

him. Pell and his assistants deserved more than just a good

word, and she hoped TGR would find some suitable reward

for their dedication. They looked exhausted, but were still

working, determined to see it through until they arrived at

Thule.

„Thule offered to send out a relief team in a tender,‟ Pell told

her wearily, „but all the patients are stable now, and

transferring them between trains would not help. What they

need are full hospital facilities.‟ He looked across the close-

packed beds and their sleeping occupants. „I just wonder...‟

„Yes?‟

„What if we find the Imnulate‟s been on the train all the

time but the thief did not have the courage to hand it over?‟

And an uncharacteristic expression of anger filled his

normally mild face.

Bernice considered pointing out that it might have made no

difference, but she was not entirely convinced of that herself.

Some things they would never know for certain.

She left the surgery feeling guilty and inadequate and

wishing she had been a better detective. Her mind would not

clear, but at least pacing about had tired her. She hoped she

could sleep.

Back in Car A she came upon Yorland in the corridor, tool

belt around his waist, checking a wiring conduit.

„Aren‟t you going to take a rest?‟ she said. „You deserve it.‟

„So do you.‟

„I won‟t really get any peace until I have some answers. I

don‟t feel as though my job‟s over yet.‟

He grinned sympathetically and gestured at the work in

hand. „Same here. Somebody‟s got to keep her running until

we make Thule.‟

Running? Bernice thought. Running water. Why did that

seem significant? „Uh... something I meant to ask. How does

the plumbing work on board?‟

Yorland looked slightly surprised. „Well, it‟s fairly standard,

like a spacecraft closed system. Pressurized fresh water

supply. Smallbore sewage system leading to settling tanks in

each car. The solids settle out and the fluid is evaporated off,

purified and recycled.‟

„What happens to the solids? The tanks must get pretty full

after a few days.‟

„They‟re normally emptied while we‟re in a station. They

process it for organic fertilizer for Terran crops, like the rest

of the sewage. That should have been done at Roaring

Canyon... but you know what happened there. There‟s spare

capacity. We‟ll arrive full but not overflowing.‟ He shook his

head. „But if you think the Imnulate was flushed away into

them, forget it. Even if it‟d somehow been reduced to small

enough fragments to pass the shredders in each unit, the

tank filters themselves would have caught them. We often

find pins and earrings and that sort of thing in them that

people have dropped down toilet pans.‟

Something inside her wouldn‟t let the idea go. „Sorry, but

can you show me the works right now? I wouldn‟t ask if I

didn‟t think it was important.‟

Yorland shrugged, closed the conduit, and led the way

down the corridor to the small discreet door of the „server‟s

„kennel‟ beside Lankril‟s compartment. He opened it with his

pass key and switched on a light.

„After we talked about them the other day I had them all

checked out,‟ he assured her.

The narrow room inside was windowless and no bigger

than a cupboard. One wall was covered with various-sized

pipes studded with taps and valves, cable conduits and

junction boxes. At the back, plugged into power sockets, were

a couple of „servers awaiting their next call to duty.

„The tanks are all under the deck,‟ Yorland explained. „You

couldn‟t get at them without tearing up half the floors in the

carriage, but you can monitor everything from here.‟ He

opened the lid of a box mounted halfway up the wall fed by a

dozen slim pipes and emptied by one of larger bore. Inside a

clear panel showed a series of graded filter trays. He turned a

tap on the side of the unit and foaming water filled the box

then drained away.

„Well... they‟ve caught something,‟ Yorland said. „Not sure

what...‟ He opened the panel releasing a waft of disinfectant,

reached inside with a disposable cloth from a wall dispenser,

and drew out several slivers of twisted black plastic, trailing a

spray of hair-thin filaments. Embedded within them were

lines of tiny crystals.

„Looks like they‟ve been cut up by a shredder unit.‟ He

dabbed them dry, then prodded them about with his fingertip

until they formed two rectangular blocks.

„The memory chips from Merch‟s communicator and office

case?‟ Bernice suggested.

„Looks like it. We can check the serial numbers to be sure.‟

„Any idea which compartment they came from?‟

He shook his head. „Could have been any one in the car.‟

„And what about retrieving useful data?‟

„You might reassemble them properly with micro-

manipulators, but I‟ll bet they‟ve been blanked either by

intense heat or exposure to another unit‟s wipe and re-format

field. That would erase even protected data. Sorry.‟

Bernice absently scratched the edge of the cast on her arm

whilst staring blankly at the broken components. They

resembled the pieces of a crude puzzle, and the symbolism

seemed to taunt her.

„But what was on them that was worth killing for in the

first place?‟ she wondered. Yorland shrugged helplessly.

Water hissed and gurgled through the pipes beside her. She

closed her eyes, chasing the elusive key, determined not to

let it escape her this time. What was it about water? Who had

said they heard it and why did it matter anyway? The images

danced in her head: Tralbet, Tyne, Merch, Wilver... An

unexpected expression on a face in a crowd came to her. It

didn‟t fit... or perhaps it fitted another picture. Storms and

stars. Stars? Where did stars fit into it? Don‟t lose it this

time...

„YES!‟ she shouted, and punched the air.

„You OK, Professor?‟ Yorland asked anxiously.

Bernice took a deep breath and let it out slowly. „I‟m fine.

Absolutely line,‟ she assured him.

From the diary of Professor Bernice Summerfield

… so that‟s how it was done.

I‟ve written the solution here and told Bassit, just in case

anything unlikely happens to me overnight. It was a shock

the way all the pieces suddenly dropped into place to form a

complete whole, almost like a physical blow. Yorland thought

I‟d had a fit for a moment.

I‟ve got a couple of calls to make just to confirm a few

details, then I can grab some sleep. I need it! And I will sleep

because at last I know.

I know how the Imnulate was stolen.

And knowing that was all it took to work out who did it.

Extract ends

19

ANATOMY OF A CRIME

It was dawn by the clock, though there was no sunrise

during this season so far north. Overhead the high clouds

glowed with the cold radiance of auroral fire, illuminating the

rolling wastes of the ice-cap with a multicoloured twilight and

populating the pits and jagged ridges with shifting ghostly

shadows. A line of pylons marched across the white

wilderness. lifting the monorail track clear of the ground-

hugging ice storms. Along it the Polar Express raced like a

comet towards home.

In the First Class dining car they watched the magical

scene through the scarred and patched windows as they

breakfasted. The mood was subdued and the meal was

largely consumed in silence. A reaction had set in to the high

emotions of the previous day. For most of them nothing again

would ever equal the elation of knowing they had faced death

and survived. Ahead of them was only the gauntlet of

reporters to run and statements to give. An anticlimax of

questions and confusion which none wanted to face.

Then, towards the end of the meal, Bassit appeared and

called for their attention.

„If all the A car passengers would be kind enough to go up

to the lounge when they have finished. An announcement will

be made there shortly on behalf of TGR.‟

„Is this about compensation?‟ Lucas Sommers asked.

„In a manner of speaking, sir,‟ said Bassit. „It will all be

made clear upstairs.‟

They finished eating, and in ones and twos they ascended.

Bernice was already waiting for them and watched them take

their seats in silence.

Monty Klemp, radiating amiability, showed it took more

than an attempted hijacking to disturb him. He was flanked

by Trinny and Debra looking surprisingly fresh and

glamorous, with Deek and Brandon on the outside of them.

Jordan Tyne settled a little apart from the others, his face

drawn and haggard. Nathan Costermann sat with folded

hands and looked grave. Sommers was still outwardly stern

and uncompromising, but this was underlain with a

suspicion of tiredness. He apparently affected not to notice

that Denn Lankril was sitting on the other side of Clarris

from him. Had he accepted that he would lose her soon,

Bernice wondered? Finally Warwick and Ellyn Verson took

their places on a sofa, automatically holding hands. Bassit

stood a little behind them all, silent and impassive.

Only when they were all seated did Bernice speak.

„I know you‟ve got packing to do, but I promise I‟ll be

finished before we reach Thule.‟ She glanced at the panel on

the opposite lounge wall displaying its much revised ETA,

then turned back to them and gave a tired smile.

„I used to wonder why they did this in detective stories. It‟s

so clichéd. But now I think I understand. Apart from it being

a useful narrative device, it‟s only fair after what everybody‟s

been through. You‟ve all been under the greatest suspicion

from those of us who were carrying out the investigation, not

to mention your fellow passengers. You deserve to know the

truth first. And of course, the guilty party deserves to suffer a

little.‟

„What are you saying, Professor?‟ Warwick Verson asked.

„I‟m saying I know who stole the Imnulate.‟

She had their complete and undivided attention. Eleven

faces stared at her in varying degrees of shock and

anticipation. Then Klemp broke the silence.

„Is it somebody here now?‟ he asked.

„Oh yes.‟

Heads turned uneasily, and there was a slight shuffling of

feet as they unconsciously drew themselves away from their

neighbours.

„Spit it out. Prof,‟ said Klemp darkly. „Who did it?‟

„Just bear with me. Explanations first. You see, I don‟t have

the actual conclusive evidence yet, though I expect to get it

shortly after we reach Thule. But I know I‟m right. It‟s the

only way it all makes sense.‟

„But is the Imnulate still on the train?‟ Ellyn Verson

pleaded. „We must know. Did we go through all that suffering

for nothing?‟

„I‟ll tell you where it is in a minute,‟ Bernice assured her. „I

only realized the truth last night. Though it wouldn‟t have

helped us against Smith even if I‟d worked it out sooner.‟

„What do you mean?‟

„You‟ll understand if you follow my reasoning, and that

means working backwards.

„Let‟s consider the hijacking first. Have you wondered how

Smith originally learnt the Imnulate was going to be on the

Express? He must have known well in advance to get Wilver on

board to spy out the land. And why go to such ruthless and

expensive lengths to get it? The cost of the operation must

have been tremendous, so he must have had a very certain

buyer to risk so much.‟

„He was probably an agent of the Kedd-Drell,‟ Warwick

Verson said.

„Very likely. For those of you who don‟t know, the Kedd-

Drell are a militant faction of the Drellite faith, the original

owners of the Imnulate. Isn‟t that right, Mr Costermann?‟

Costermann blinked in surprise. „Sorry, Professor. I know

nothing about them. I‟d never heard of them before until Mrs

Verson mentioned them yesterday.‟

„No. They were news to me too. They‟re certainly not people

you want to invite on a long journey. But I wonder how they

found out about the transfer of the Imnulate? I suspect by

spying on their more orthodox colleagues.‟

The Versons looked shocked at the suggestion.

„But then of course, how did the Orthodox Drell learn of the

transfer? Were you ever told where the information came

from?‟ Bernice asked them.

„Never,‟ said Ellyn Verson. „We assumed it was some

sympathizer on Tempest who had access to inside

information.‟

„Well, maybe,‟ Bernice allowed. „But then why would the

same person contact Mr Tyne? An anonymous letter, I believe

you said, Tyne. You‟re not a follower of Drell, are you?‟

Tyne shook his head. „If I‟d got my hands on the thing I‟d

have broken it down and sold it for its straight carat value,‟

he said tonelessly, glancing briefly at Costermann. „It wasn‟t

exactly the Imnulate itself I was after.‟

„Quite. For the benefit of the rest of you, Mr Tyne bears Mr

Costermann and the late Tralbet a grudge regarding an old

disagreement over gambling winnings. Our informed source

seems to have known about that as well. As a matter of

interest, who did you tell about it, Tyne?‟

„What? Nobody. I didn‟t come out of it too well, did I?‟

„And you, Mr Costermann?‟

„Some of the others involved. Perhaps half a dozen people. I

might be able to recollect some names, but it was a few years

ago, you understand.‟

„And there‟s no telling who they might have passed it on to

as an amusing anecdote: card-sharper gets his just desserts,

and so on.‟

„Quite true, I‟m afraid.‟

„And would any of them have born you a grudge then or

since?‟

„Not as far as I know.‟

„Well, let‟s try another tack. Why did somebody try to kill

Garv Ferlane?‟

There was a murmur of surprise.

„Yes, I‟m afraid what happened to Ferlane was no accident,‟

Bernice continued. „Somebody, let‟s call them “X”,

sabotaged his life support pack. We think it was because

he had been making requests for certain information a few

hours before. I‟m sure Ferlane had nothing concrete to go on,

just instinct, but his new line of inquiry made somebody very

worried indeed. Perhaps the potential danger only existed in

X‟s own mind and Ferlane would never have made the

connection X feared. But there‟s an ancient saying that the

wicked flee when no man pursueth, and X had already been

rattled by an earlier piece of misfortune I‟ll come to in a

minute. So X took advantage of the landslide to try to get rid

of Ferlane. It was a very hit or miss method, but it might

easily have been mistaken for a genuine accident so there

was nothing to lose. But how did X know about the

information Ferlane had requested?‟

Bernice pulled the plastic bag containing the charred

device Yorland had found from her pocket, and held it up for

all to see.

„Because a line tap had been planted in the conduit above

the A car corridor that carried all the train‟s communication

circuitry. It was burnt out when we found it. Actually we even

have a recording taken by a door monitor camera of the

shadow X cast as it was put in place, though we didn‟t realize

what it was the first time we viewed it. It was made by an

arm reaching upward to the ceiling, opening the conduit

cover, and slipping the line tap into place. Simple explanation

once you know, isn‟t it? Only took a few seconds and it was

the dead of night so there was little danger of being seen. You

see, X had no intention of getting off the train early, and

wanted to be kept up to date on the inevitable investigation

that would follow the discovery of the theft. A methodical

planner is our X.

„It paid off too. The line tap was also used to generate

interference on Merch‟s communicator for a very crucial few

hours, which probably contributed to it burning out later

while monitoring Ferlane‟s calls. The interference was

nothing too extreme, but enough to delay Merch transmitting

X‟s identity to some external data store as insurance. If he‟d

got through it might have saved his life.‟

„I don‟t understand.‟ Sommers snapped. „Are you saying

Merch was a blackmailer?‟

„Yes. I think he was blackmailing, or rather intending to

blackmail, X: the person who stole the Imnulate and

murdered Tralbet. That was why Merch allowed somebody

into his compartment so late at night, when everybody else

was barring their doors. He must have underestimated X‟s

determination, or else overestimated his own position and

precautions. Either way he ended up dead. X then ransacked

his compartment quietly but systematically to see if Merch

had left any incriminating information behind. The memory

cores of Merch‟s personal link and computer were removed in

case the information was stored on them as a time-coded

message to the police, for instance. We‟ve since found them,

by the way, though their data‟s probably been deleted.

„And so we come back to the original crime. The theft of the

Imnulate and the killing of Tralbet. X appears to have been

one of those people who visited Mr Costermann‟s apartment

on the first day out. As X entered or left, he or she placed a

piece of foil-covered card in the door jamb to prevent the lock

closing properly. Later that night X apparently returned and

used a capsule of knockout gas to render Tralbet and Mr

Costermann unconscious so X could steal the Imnulate. But

the gas was not completely effective on Narg biology. Tralbet

was rendered confused and semiconscious, but still a danger.

In a panic, X picked up the nearest available weapon, an

ornamental paper knife from Mr Costermann‟s desk set, and

stabbed Tralbet fatally. Then X used Mr Costermann‟s thumb

to open the outer lid of the MaxSec case, somehow removed

the Imnulate from the interior unit, and left. The timing of

the crime suggested the Imnulate might somehow have been

smuggled off the train at Spume Lake. X might have gone

with it, or passed it on to an accomplice while remaining on

board in apparent innocence.

„And that‟s where we came in.‟

„Isn‟t it possible that Merch was your “X” and not a

blackmailer?‟ Costermann suggested, breaking the silence.

„That he had an accomplice on board with whom he had

some disagreement, and it was he, or she, who killed him?

That also seems to be consistent with what we know.‟

„Perhaps,‟ Bernice agreed. „But though Merch had a less

than perfect past, there is nothing to indicate he was not

exactly what he seemed to be, and came to Tempest purely

on company business. He was on the Express simply by

chance. Something X could not have planned for.

„On the other hand, the authorities have found out that

your invaluable secretary and bodyguard, Tralbet, had been

receiving anonymous payments into his account for some

months.‟

„Somebody was paying him secretly?‟ said Costermann,

gaping at her in amazement. „I can‟t believe it!‟

„It‟s perfectly true.‟

„Then... he was an accomplice to the robbery? And perhaps

the source of the leak as well? He did know when the transfer

was going to take place, and of course, he knew about Tyne...

though I still don‟t see why he should have involved him.‟

„No, there‟s no apparent sense in that, is there?‟ Bernice

agreed. „However, it does seem likely that Tralbet was killed

by whoever was paying him, either to shut him up or to keep

his cut for themselves. Perhaps both. I noticed Tralbet

seemed a little morose the first time I met him, and Deek

here confirmed I was reading his expression correctly.

Obviously he knew something was going on and felt uneasy

about it.‟

Costermann considered, then nodded slowly. „Yes, I think

you may be right.‟

„So Tralbet‟s killing was not unintentional, but simply made

to look so,‟ Bernice continued. „Perhaps the gas was to have

been Tralbet‟s alibi, together with the piece of foil-wrapped

card used on the door lock.‟

„You mean Tralbet might have put that there?‟ Costermann

said.

„It could have just as easily been placed to make it look like

an outside job, don‟t you agree? But then we come to a

problem. If Tralbet was always intended to die, as it now

seems, why didn‟t the thief use a more efficient weapon? A

modest-sized knife against somebody as big as Tralbet, even

partly anaesthetized, is a risky option unless you got lucky...

or know exactly where to strike. But we‟ve now decided it was

preplanned, forget luck. Who knew the knife was going to be

there?‟

„One of the people who‟d been in my room looking at the

Imnulate.‟

„But how many people would recognize a sheathed paper

knife these days? Pell and Ferlane didn‟t at first when we

were examining Tralbet‟s body. I do, but then antiquities are

a special interest of mine. Was the thief and murderer as

observant and knowledgeable? In its sheath it looked like

part of the ornamentation of the pen mount. And who would

bother looking for such a thing when there‟s the Imnulate to

admire, or at the very least the MaxSec case to examine and

your lecture on its functions to absorb?‟

„It may have been lying loose on the desk that night,‟ said

Costermann. „I‟m not sure...‟

„Really? You‟re such a neat person, I wouldn‟t think you‟d

just leave it lying about. But you see my problem. I think this

was planned by somebody who already knew you were going

to bring that paper knife along as part of your personal

effects. But how? They could hardly have asked Tralbet

without arousing his suspicions.‟

„Then it was somebody who had seen it before in my

house.‟

„Where do you keep it there?‟

„In my study.‟

„A reasonably private room, I assume? How many people

present here right now have been in your study in the last

year or two, say? And for long enough to allow them to

recognize the desk set and know what it contained, and then

recall that knowledge in a split second when face to face with

Tralbet?‟

„You know Denn Lankril was in my house. He may have

„But Denn Lankril has an alibi for the time of the crime

which we‟re quite satisfied with. No, there was only one

person who knew a knife would be within easy reach when it

was needed,‟ Bernice said simply. „Somebody who

automatically knew it was there from years of familiarity and

didn‟t need any prompting when thinking of a convenient

“makeshift” weapon to hand when they needed it. That was

an oversight on your part, Costermann, when you were

working out how to steal the Imnulate from yourself and kill

Tralbet!‟

20

JUSTICE

The silence in the lounge was absolute for perhaps ten

seconds.

All eyes were riveted upon Costermann seated in his chair

and Bernice standing squarely before him. The only signs

that the whole scene was not frozen in time was the slight

tremor of the carriage and the subdued whisper of wind from

outside.

Then Costermann said, „Professor Summerfield, what are

you talking about?‟

There was only incredulous surprise in his wide eyes and

baffled tone. There was no trace of guilt in his expression or

words.

Bernice continued remorselessly: „I made an assumption at

the start of this business that there were a round dozen most

likely suspects. Well, that was wrong: there should have been

thirteen. But you‟d set yourself up to look like one of the

victims, so I automatically discounted you. Just as you

intended.‟

„This is utter nonsense. Professor,‟ Costermann said

sharply. „You admitted earlier that you had no proof. This is

completely misguided conjecture. I must say I am

disappointed in you. If you have nothing more coherent and

constructive to say then I shall leave.‟

He started to rise, but Klemp made a quick gesture and

Deek stepped forward with surprising speed for someone of

his bulk and laid a huge hand on Costermann‟s shoulder.

Costermann found himself pressed firmly back down into his

chair again.

„Let‟s hear the Professor out,‟ Klemp grated ominously.

„Thanks,‟ Bernice said absently, looking down at

Costermann with undisguised contempt. „So, I disappoint

you, do I? Is that because I got drunk the first night out and

so disqualified myself as a potential suspect for the theft of

the Imnulate? That is why you got me to Tempest, isn‟t it?‟

„I refuse to answer such an absurd accusation,‟

Costermann said stiffly.

„Well, let‟s see how absurd everybody else thinks it is. I‟ve

felt uneasy since I finished my lectures in Carlsbad. Oh, the

hospitality was fine, but my unconscious was trying to tell

me something, which I misinterpreted as a touch of angst

and self-doubt. It persisted even after you welcomed me so

warmly at your party. That welcome was perfectly genuine,

but not for the reason I thought. In fact I was being used

from the beginning by a ruthless individual who‟s been

pretending to be vulnerable, modest and fallible all through

this whole affair. That‟s you.‟

„Are we now to believe you are psychic, Professor?‟

Costermann sneered back at her. „Do you suffer such

delusions often? You were invited to Tempest to give a series

of lectures to our Archaeological Society, nothing more.‟

„Yes, I wondered about that. So I called up Preston

Galloway last night - you wouldn‟t know, of course, because

your line tap isn‟t functioning any more. You see, when we

were attending your little dinner party, he revealed he had

doubts about inviting me, but said he had allowed himself to

be talked round. When I asked him he remembered that it

was you who had done the persuading, and even that you‟d

been quite forceful about the matter.‟

„Really!‟ said Costermann.

„Then on a hunch I also asked what other clubs and

societies you belonged to. Among the list were amateur

dramatics and the local Magic Circle. You were really quite

good, Galloway said. Useful talents in the current

circumstances.‟

„Oh. And I suppose I used magic to remove the Imnulate

from the MaxSec case, did I? You can speculate that it is

physically possible for me to have killed Tralbet, though for

what possible motive I cannot imagine, but there is no way I

could have bypassed that security system. I‟m an ex-chemist,

not a computer expert, and that is a matter of simple fact.

Therefore there must have been a third party - your

mysterious “X” - involved. Find X and you have your thief

and murderer.‟

„He‟s got a point,‟ Tyne said softly. „I know how tough a

MaxSec case is.‟

„You say you‟ve got this whole thing worked out, Prof,‟

Klemp said. „Then produce the goods. That would make your

case a whole lot tighter.‟

„I‟m afraid I can‟t do that,‟ Bernice said simply, „because

you see the Imnulate was never on the train in the first

place.‟

Again silence ruled in the lounge, filled with stupefied

thoughts and stifled incredulous gasps. This time Warwick

Verson broke it.

„But we all saw the Imnulate in the case! I even touched it!

It was real and solid.‟

„Sorry, but you were deceived again,‟ Bernice said. „Perhaps

you feel you should know the Imnulate instinctively, but

apparently it‟s not so. What you and the rest of us saw was a

fake. We were being used by Costermann, so we would

corroborate his story of theft to the police and the insurance

company.‟

„But even if it was a fake, it couldn‟t have been removed

from the MaxSec case,‟ Tyne said. „We know how it works.

The surface pattern‟s locked into the scanning system. Even

if it was broken up it would still trigger the alarms when you

tried to remove it.‟

„Yes, we all got that lecture from Costermann.‟ Bernice

agreed. „And I got it again from a representative of the firm

who made it, as did Costermann himself when the possibility

of transferring the Imnulate was first discussed some months

ago, no doubt. That‟s when he saw the flaw in the system

which he realized he could exploit. MaxSec really will have to

redesign those things, they‟re too elaborate. Costermann

himself has already given you a clue when he admitted his

former profession. Ferlane was probing into his current

business interests and may have been getting closer to the

answer as well, at least in Costermann‟s eyes. Costermann

realized it would only take a little free association with an old

scandal and medical products to work out how he did it. That

was why he tried to kill Ferlane. Remember: he was suited up

and nobly volunteering before any of us. That was his excuse

to visit the locker room before it got busy and sabotage

Ferlane‟s backpack, guessing that he‟d go outside to help

sooner or later.‟

„But what was Ferlane on to?‟ Klemp asked.

She held up her arm so they could see the glistening cast.

„Costermann owns Integrated Polymers, which makes this

sort of stuff. According to Dr Pell, it‟ll simply dissolve away

once it‟s done its job. Things are not always what they seem,

as young Tallia Astall reminded me, when she likened the

stars to her mother‟s diamonds.‟

She saw understanding dawning in their eyes.

„Costermann made an exact copy of the Imnulate, cast from

the original, in a plastic that could be dissolved by the

application of the proper solvent, which he brought with him.

Along with a few other items.‟

„Wait a minute, Professor,‟ Costermann said. „This

ingenious hypothesis does not stand up to reason. A plastic

replica may fool the casual observer, but not an expert.

Challis and Lyne sent one of their people with a jewellery

expert to appraise the Imnulate before it was locked inside

the case the very morning we left Carlsbad. They‟ll testify it

was the genuine article. Unless you‟re suggesting they‟re both

involved in this fantastic scheme?‟

„No, but I think they‟re simply fallible like the rest of us.

You‟re an amateur magician, and much of stage magic relies

on misdirection. Apart from Galloway, I also contacted

Challis and Lyne and got the number of their representative

who visited you. And do you know, he recalls that just after

they‟d validated the Imnulate but before they put it in the

MaxSec case, a picture suddenly fell off the wall of your

study for no reason. Gave them both quite a start. Naturally

they turned aside from the Imnulate for a second or two. And

that was when you made the switch. They put the fake

Imnulate in the case themselves. The police will be checking

your study for trick panels in desks and suspicious wall

hangings... and for the real Imnulate of course.‟

„I wish them luck,‟ Costermann said levelly. „But why am I

supposed to have gone to all these incredible lengths?‟

„I guess a couple of reasons. First: there was a scandal

concerning one of your companies a few years ago. People

died and one of your managers committed suicide - or did

he? I‟m guessing that‟s what Tralbet found out. Or perhaps

he was your hit man and started to get greedy? It was you

who was paying him to keep quiet, of course. Careless of him

to accept the payments in anonymous funds, but it did set

him up as a potential informant to some third party. How

long did that go on for until you saw a way of killing two, or

is it three, birds with one stone?‟

„Do go on. Professor,‟ Costermann said levelly, „I enjoy a

good fantasy.‟

„Very well. You also were being pestered by the Drell over

the Imnulate. But you hadn‟t any intention of giving it up. I

really should have known that from the beginning. Nobody

who builds a terrace like yours out over a canyon would ever

give in to pressure so easily; your ego would never allow it.

Then you saw how you could turn the situation to your

advantage. What if you faked a robbery? You‟d keep the real

Imnulate, collect the insurance, be rid of the Drell and

eliminate Tralbet all in one go.

„But you wanted plenty of potential suspects around;

people who everybody knew bore you grudges. I think Denn

Lankril‟s presence was a little fortuitous, but I‟m sure you‟d

noted when Lucas Sommers and Mr Klemp made their

regular trips. So you arranged to make the transfer when

they were both on board.‟

Klemp glowered at Costermann. „Were you setting me up

for this?‟ Costermann ignored him.

„I think so,‟ Bernice said. „Or at least to muddy the waters

along with the rest of us. He made certain I knew of your

reputation, building you up as an obvious suspect even as I

became less useful that way myself, by reason of intoxication.

In fact he was always ready to cast suspicion – at everyone

but himself, naturally. Then there was Tyne: a professional

thief who could be relied upon to bring along nice

incriminating evidence for the police to find.‟ She smiled

grimly at Costermann. „Such a helpful letter you sent him.

„But involving him was actually a mistake, even though it

did introduce a phantom mystery figure who had a grudge

against you, designed to send the police off on another false

trail. I suppose you had Tyne tracked down and so learnt his

real name, but unfortunately nobody but you and Tralbet

would have known about what you did to Tyne, and Tralbet

didn‟t strike me as a great small-talker. And Tyne never told

anyone since he came out of it badly.‟

„I don‟t understand,‟ said Warwick Verson.

„Costermann only had Tralbet recover his own gambling

losses from Tyne. He would hardly then have boasted about

it to the others Tyne fleeced, since they would have asked

why he didn‟t get their money back at the same time.

„Tyne‟s letter also helped to suggest a leak at the insurance

company offices, and everybody would presume the key code

for the MaxSec case had gone the same way. But you didn‟t

know there was also a timelock built into it, did you? Ferlane

told me that. Even with the correct code it couldn‟t have been

opened at that time. But the Imnulate was gone so we

assumed, despite the time lock, that the system had been

negated by some master thief.

„But we were looking for the wrong type of specialist all

along. Not a computer expert or an engineer, but a chemist.

„We should have realized sooner that we‟d really eliminated

all the possibilities, and what was left, by the Sherlockian

method, was the solution. The real Imnulate couldn‟t have

been stolen, therefore it hadn‟t been stolen - at least, not in

the normal sense.

„Of course you never reckoned on the fanaticism of the

Kedd-Drell and their hiring of Smith, because you‟d never

heard of them. You were genuinely shocked by the hijacking

and worked frantically on the bomb - but then you were also

saving your own skin along with the rest of us. All the while

you were sick to your heart because you realized your own

clever scheming had so spectacularly backfired. And

naturally you couldn‟t come forward with the truth. Smith

wouldn‟t have believed you. All you could do was keep quiet

and suffer.

„Of all the faces in the lounge when Tyne came in with the

fake Imnulate, I remember yours was the only one that

showed anything like surprise. Everybody else still hoped the

Imnulate would turn up, but you alone knew it could not.‟

Denn Lankril was looking at Costermann in growing

disgust. „So how did he set it up - the actual robbery, I

mean?‟

„He deliberately staged it early in the journey,‟ Bernice

explained. „That was not only to tie in with the Spume Lake

stop, but to pre-empt somebody like Mr Tyne from confusing

things by making a genuine attempt.

„He‟d brought two gas capsules along, one smaller one

made of more of his dissolving plastic. He used that to

incapacitate Tralbet, allowing him to breathe enough so that

it showed up in the autopsy, and then killing him with a far

from accidental stab to the heart. He then applied the solvent

to the fake Imnulate in the MaxSec case, completely changing

its surface form as it dissolved, so he could simply pour it out

without triggering the detector field which had been

sensitized only to the fake Imnulate‟s solid form. Then he

went downstairs to place the line tap - the ceiling panel was

only a few steps from the bottom of his stairs. He wanted to

keep tabs on the investigation for the first crucial days while

it would have to be carried out on board, so he could adjust

any details of his story to suit, no doubt.

Then he edged along the side of the corridor until he could

put a piece of tape over the door monitor camera. This made

us think X entered the coupler module between cars A and B,

possibly to dispose of or temporarily conceal the Imnulate for

later collection by an accomplice - setting up another false

trail. At some earlier time of the day, Costermann had even

put a couple of scratches on the doorlock panel as he passed

through to create the impression somebody had been

tampering with it. The longer it seemed X was at work

elsewhere the stronger Costermann‟s alibi became, since we

would tie in his incapacitation with the time of Tralbet‟s

death.‟

Costermann stared back at her impassively.

„In fact Costermann nipped straight back upstairs to

arrange himself artfully beside the empty MaxSec case and

trigger the second gas capsule, which we were meant to find:

genuinely knocking himself out and making it appear as

though it had happened at the same time as Tralbet. Being

gassed was a great alibi: no complicated description of the

burglary to concoct and it even earns you sympathy.‟

„Really,‟ said Costermann. „And the supposed remains of

the Imnulate?‟

„Flushed down the toilet. Clarris Sommers chanced to be

up and about around the time this was going on - in fact you

were lucky not to bump into her - and heard water running.

It‟s such an innocent sound. But eventually it got me

thinking what you run water for. To flush something away

among other things.‟

„And Merch?‟ Lucas Sommers asked.

„Yes. Bad luck there. Merch recognized the Imnulate fake

the moment he saw it. He knew gems and he had artificial

lenses in his eyes. Some sort of polarization effect gave it

away I guess. He kept quiet at first not knowing quite what to

make of it. But after the theft and murder he must have

caught on to the deception and wanted paying to stay silent.‟

She looked Costermann in the eye again. „I thought your

health was a bit up and down once you‟d got up from the

effects of the gas. First bright and bravely resilient because

you thought you‟d got away with it, then shocked when you

found you hadn‟t and knew you had to silence Merch.

„You told us you thought you heard something in the

corridor on the night of Merch‟s death and even opened your

door to look out. That was to cover yourself, of course, in

case somebody genuinely heard you going along to Merch‟s

compartment as you had arranged. Was he naive enough to

turn his back on you, or did you employ another diversion?

Either way, you used his business case to knock him out,

probably intending to suffocate him once he was

unconscious. But the one blow had been enough.‟

„And where is your evidence for all this?‟ Costermann asked

coolly. „If I did what you say, which I totally deny, there is by

your own account no proof.‟

Bernice smiled grimly. „Do you know how the plumbing on

this train works? I didn‟t until last night. They don‟t just

throw the waste water away, it‟s recycled. Solids or semi-

solids - like your plastic goo residue from the fake Imnulate -

settle out in tanks under each car. They‟re normally sucked

out at stops along the way to help make fertilizer. Thai

should have happened at Roaring Canyon, but because of the

panic there it didn‟t, so the evidence is still on board. When

we get to Thule the police are going to have the contents of

the tank analysed down to one part in ten billion. And I think

there‟ll be enough of your plastic to show up, don‟t you? And

then they‟ll match it with something your company produces,

and that will be that!‟

Tyne had been looking at Costermann for long minutes in

silence, the colour draining from his face. Now he spoke out.

„I believe it. You‟re evil! Ail Lil and I wanted out of life was

our cut - but you had to have everything! She‟s dead because

of you!‟ His hands were clenched as though he wished they

were round Costermann‟s throat and he started to rise from

his chair. Costermann, sensing the naked hatred in his

words, actually showed a flicker of fear for the first time and

shrank away. Lucas Sommers unexpectedly reached out a

restraining hand to Tyne.

„No. He‟s not worth it,‟ he said simply.

„I want to see him really suffer for this!‟ Tyne said simply,

slumping back into his chair again.

„He will,‟ Bernice assured him. She glanced at the numerals

on the ETA display and let out her breath with a sigh. „Still

eleven minutes to go. I promised I‟d sort this thing out before

we reached Thule.‟

But Costermann had recovered his composure, and now he

straightened up. „Well, if that‟s all, I shall be returning to my

compartment to finish packing.‟

His brazen effrontery astounded Bernice. „Don‟t you

understand, I‟m arresting you

„On what evidence?‟ Costermann cut in quickly. „You admit

yourself you have none. Suppose the police do find some sort

of plastic waste in the sewage tanks? Can anybody prove I

had anything to do with it?‟

„There‟ll be traces in the sink or lavatory pan in your

stateroom. They haven‟t been cleaned since that night.‟

„Even if there are. what of it?‟ Costermann replied

imperturbably. „I was unconscious, gassed, and that is an

indisputable fact. How can I be held responsible for what the

thief did in my room during that time? Perhaps he, or she,

did dispose of something in the way you suggest, but it is

hardly my responsibility. All you have are suspicions and

conjecture and that is not enough.‟

Their eyes locked fleetingly, and in that moment Bernice

knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Costermann was

guilty: a cold, calculating killer. And he knew she knew. But

no hint of that silent admission disturbed his quiet

arrogance. With the merest suggestion of a smile turning up

the corners of his mouth, he added: „As I recall mentioning to

you when we first met, Professor, I can afford to employ very

good lawyers.‟

And he rose calmly from his chair. Deek moved to stop

him, but Klemp shook his head, and Deek reluctantly

stepped aside. Costermann smiled coldly.

„That‟s very wise of you, Klemp. Your normal crude tactics

won‟t work here. The proper authorities may question me

when we reach Thule, with my legal representative present,

and I shall be pleased to co-operate fully to help resolve this

sorry business. But until then you will all kindly stay out of

my way.‟

And he strode out of the lounge and started down the

stairs.

„He can‟t get away with it!‟ Tyne said.

„He might,‟ Klemp growled. „I know about lawyers.‟

„May Drell forgive him, but that man is evil!‟ said Ellyn

Verson.

„Now do you see what he‟s capable of!‟ Lucas Sommers spat

out.

„He was just using us... all of us!‟ said Denn Lankril,

clasping Clarris‟s hand.

Clarris, her face a mask of anguish, said huskily, „It‟s not

fair! We know he did it!‟

Bernice suddenly felt very tired and sank into a spare

chair, shaking her head wearily. „He‟s right: knowing‟s not

enough. I thought he‟d crack and admit it. But we‟ve got to

prove it. Maybe the police will come up with something

„No,‟ said Jordan Tyne, curiously softly.

Even as they turned to him he rose from his chair and

started after Costermann.

„Don‟t do anything stupid!‟ Bernice called, but he took no

notice. She sprang to her feet and ran after him.

As Bernice reached the bottom of the stairs the dining-car

doors were just sliding shut, with Tyne squeezing his slender

frame through them. Before she could follow him they closed

in her face and Tyne was alone in the coupler module with

Costermann, who, with the automatic circuit damaged, was

just reaching out to press the manual control of the A car

doors opposite.

She saw Tyne step up to Costermann and say something,

but the words were muffled by the intervening panels. She

stabbed at the door control button even as Costermann

turned about and, with a contemptuous expression on his

face, pushed Tyne violently away from him. Tyne fell

backwards, his elbow striking the blackened inner manual

door control panel. There was a soft splutter of sparks from

within the door frame. Bernice punched the button on her

side again but nothing happened.

She was aware of the others coming down the stairs behind

her and beginning to form a crowd at her back. Bassit was

calling for Yorland over his lapel intercom.

„I haven‟t anything to lose...‟ Tyne‟s shouted words came

faintly to them. „...tell them what you‟re really like... some of

it‟ll stick.‟

Finally Costermann‟s calm deserted him. He grasped the

smaller man by the lapels, spun him round and threw him

backwards.

Tyne tore through the plastic sheet and warning tapes

strung across the empty frame of the inner door and thudded

into the patched and blackened outer hatch. Dazed but still

determined he started forward, shouting out his hatred.

Costermann knocked aside his hands and pushed him

backwards again.

„...you dare to threaten me... little man...‟ Bernice heard

him yell.

Yorland pushed his way through the crowd and stabbed at

the door button. Getting no response he pulled a powerdriver

from his pocket and attacked the control panel.

Tyne was slammed backwards for the third time. The door

shivered at his back and metal groaned. A strip of temporary

rubber sealant came free and a dark line appeared between

the door and the frame. The gaping seam acted like a scoop,

channelling sub-zero air into the coupler module at a

hundred kph and condensing into a cloud of swirling white

vapour.

A warning alarm sounded.

Costermann reeled backwards, the shock of the icy blast

causing an involuntary indrawing of breath, triggering the

coughing reflex which sucked more of the stinging freezing

air into his lungs. Blinded and gasping, he clawed at the

control button beside the far door.

The emergency breaks came on and the Express began to

slow.

Tyne stumbled away from the leaking door and fell to his

knees. His face and hands suddenly appeared pressed

against the plastiglass door panel. His skin was blue and his

eyes clenched shut, the tears streaming from them already

freezing on his cheeks. He scrabbled at the glass for a

moment then reeled backwards.

The broken outer coupler door flapped in the wind then

tore free, leaving a black rectangle open on to the polar night.

The interior of the module filled with a swirling cloud of

condensation, enveloping both Tyne and Costermann. Sparks

flashed on the control panel under Yorland‟s hands and the

inner doors opened, but the second pair remained stubbornly

closed.

„Get him out of there!‟ Klemp commanded. Brandon and

Deek shouldered their way forward, dug their fingers between

the gaskets where the door halves butted together and

heaved. A motor whined, fighting their efforts. Denn Lankril

joined them, adding his weight to their efforts. Slowly the

doors parted. Freezing choking air billowed inward from the

coupler module and into the dining car, condensing instantly

into more blinding fog. Bernice dropped to her hands and

knees, screwed up her eyes to mere slits, clamped her lips

tight and groped forward. The cold pressed in on her like a

vice.

For a second she saw two ghostly figures in the fog: both

white with frost crystals, hands outstretched and clawing

blindly, eyes frozen shut. They clashed and struggled feebly

with the last of their strength. There was a final convulsion

and one pitched backwards and vanished from her sight,

while the other sank to his knees. Then Bernice had to shut

her own eyes against the stinging air and could only grope

forward sightlessly. Her fingers found a motionless out-

stretched arm, grasped it and hauled. From the carriage

other hands grabbed her in turn and pulled, and she and her

burden were jerked backwards into the warmth of the dining

car.

The doors slammed closed behind them.

She staggered to her feet, wiping her stinging eyes clear.

Lankril, Brandon and Deek were doubled over, coughing and

clasping their frozen fingers under their armpits. Through the

door glass she saw the air in the coupler module clear almost

magically as the last of the vapour was frozen out of it.

Only then did she realize the module was empty.

The Express came to a halt.

Tyne lay coughing and shivering on the floor beside her.

Ellyn Verson was laying her husband‟s jacket over him while

Bassit called for Pell to attend, warning him to put on an

environment suit to cross the damaged module.

Through streaming eyes Bernice looked into the others‟

faces. A moment of silent understanding passed between

them. Unhurriedly, they moved over to the dining-car

windows and peered out.

A little way back down the track and several metres below

them, Costermann‟s contorted body was sprawled motionless

on the ice.

Bernice thought of his ostentatious cliffside terrace defying

the elements of Thunder Canyon, and said quietly, „So

Tempest got its revenge in the end.‟

She realized a steady illumination was raising a sparkle on

the ice and casting long faint shadows, and turned to look

the other way. The warm welcoming lights of Thule dome

blazed in the night less than a kilometre away.

Twenty minutes later the Polar Express finally entered the

terminus.

EPILOGUE

From the diary of Professor Bernice Summerfield

The last two weeks have mostly involved making endless

statements to the police, giving evidence to multiple inquests,

and avoiding reporters as far as possible.

Police scientists found traces of a compound in the waste

tanks of Car A which matched the formulae of a very hard

clear plastic that Integrated Polymers produced. In view of

this evidence, and with Costermann dead, his lawyers

decided to preserve the reputation of his various companies

instead of his good name. Pretty ironic after what he‟d told

me back on his balcony in Carlsbad. They didn‟t contest the

finding of the inquests, and out-of-court settlements were

made to Ferlane, relatives of those who had lost their lives on

the Express and TGR itself.

A verdict of death by misadventure was passed on

Costermann‟s own demise; the coroner accepting that Tyne

was not responsible for Costermann‟s fatal fall from the train.

I decided not to mention what I‟d seen in the coupler module

in that second before I had to shut my eyes against the

freezing air Tyne‟s desperate shove that sent Costermann

through the outer door to take that final step into the night

without end. After all, in the circumstances I might easily

have been mistaken. If any of the others saw the same thing

they haven‟t mentioned it either, so I suppose I must have

been.

For planning the theft of the Imnulate, Tyne received a

three-year sentence, suspended in consideration of his

subsequent conduct. I think that was fair.

Garv Ferlane regained consciousness after a week. His

memories of his time on the train are patchy. He seems to

remember me in a vague sort of way, but I can tell he‟s no

longer the same keen-eyed man I first met. Something‟s

missing. The doctors admit privately that he‟s unlikely ever

to fully recover. I‟ll always wonder what might have been

when there was no longer any need for reserve between us.

Probably nothing. Maybe.

Nothing further of significance has yet been found about

Smith, Wilver or any other member of their organization.

After the discovery of a tuned jamming device on the line

feeds from the Sky station sensor array, they were tentatively

linked with the mysterious death of Senior Technical

Supervisor Owen Rosen. He was killed on the day of the

hijack by a contact poison, traces of which were found on the

remains of a small bundle of note slips in his quarters, which

had also been laced with micro-encapsulated acid. Beside

these were the similarly acid-eaten remains of a credit

transfer card, which later examination revealed was a

forgery.

A spokesperson for the Kedd-Drell has denied all

knowledge or involvement with Smith or his associates.

The police searched Costermann‟s house in Carlsbad and

found a concealed panel in his desk which might have been

used to substitute the fake Imnulate. The genuine article is

still missing and it looks like Costermann took the secret of

its new hiding place to his grave.

Frankly I hope they never find it.

Eventually,

blushing

modestly

with

an

official

commendation and the thanks of both the government and

TGR, I have been allowed to leave Tempest. Commissioner

Hynds gave me a small package just before I boarded the

shuttle, which I unwrapped on the way up to the Skystation.

In it was a silver Deputy‟s star.

Extract ends

Document Outline

Front Cover

Back Cover

PROLOGUE

1 TEMPEST

2 MR SMITH

3 DEPARTURE

4 MURDER ON THE POLAR EXPRESS

5 SUSPECT

6 SHADOWS

7 TECHNICAL MATTERS

8 SPECIAL DUTY

9 DETECTION BY NUMBERS

10 UNDER PRESSURE

11 HEAVY WEATHER

12 LANDSLIDE

13 A SHADOW EXPLAINED

14 DECEPTIONS AND REWARDS

15 ULTIMATUM

16 THE BATTLE OF THE TRAIN

17 FLIGHT

18 JIGSAW

19 ANATOMY OF A CRIME

20 JUSTICE

EPILOGUE