Suicide, Inc

CHAPTER 6

Someone whacked on the door of Smith’s cabin, hard, several times.

He eased up out of his chair, touched the door switch. The door coughed, jiggled, slid open.

Deac Constiner stood on the threshold. “Your frapping corridor’s full of sand.”

“Two hours ago it was soapy water.”

The Trinidad Law Bureau agent’s frown deepened. “I was a little harsh with you in the saloon,” he said. “Implied you were a bigger halfwit than you probably are.”

“Come on in,” invited Smith. “An apology from you is an event.”

Shaking yellow sand off his neohyde boots, the small lawman entered. “What’d you do with the damn bug I had planted in here?”

While they both glanced down at the small circular hole in the carpeting, Smith replied, “Got rid of it.”

“Do you realize those things cost five hundred trubux apiece?”

“When we get to Zegundo, I’ll show you a place you can buy them for two hundred.”

Constiner sat, uninvited, on the edge of the bunk. “Did you find any other bugs in here?”

“Should I have?”

“Let’s put our cards on the table,” said Constiner. “We’re both interested in the same case. See? I’m being frank with you.”

“After you realized I was on to you.”

The lawman said, “You used to be a pretty fair operative. At least you weren’t as much of a stumblebum as most of the lunks in the Territorial cops. I know you went blooey over a dame, but hell, that can happen to any of us.”

“Not to you.”

“I’m an exception,” admitted Constiner.

“What exactly,” inquired Smith, settling into a chair, “is this case we’re both working on?”

Constiner gave a dry chuckle. “You tell me, Smith.”

“I’m looking for some people.”

“Me, too.”

“Why?”

“Same reason you are.”

“To get them,” asked Smith, “to attend the Horizon Kids’ reunion?”

New lines joined the large selection on Constiner’s leathery forehead. “Is that really what you think you’re doing?”

“It is what I’m doing.”

“Here I just get through telling you that maybe you’re not a dimwit and you act like a dimwit,” the TLB man complained. “Use your damn noggin. Who ran Horizon House?”

“Westerland.”

“And what was he the head of? The freewheeling government research agency known as the Miracle Office.”

“Then all this maybe has something to do with an invention of his?”

Constiner folded his hands over his knee. “What do you think?”

“Is Westerland really dead?”

“Sure, he’s dead. You know that as well as…hold it. Do you have information to the contrary?”

Smith grinned. “Nope.”

“They never found his body after that nukeboat explosion,” said Constiner.

Smith asked, “Who else is interested in this?”

“Could be most anybody.”

“Can you narrow that some?”

“No.

“Who tried to poison you?”

“Could be most anybody.”

Smith nodded. “I appreciate your taking me into your confidence this way, Deac,” he said. “I learn all sorts of stuff.”

Leaving the bunk, Constiner said, “We’ll be arriving on Zegundo in a few minutes. No doubt I’ll be running into you again.”

“No doubt,” agreed Smith.