I declined the transaction. “This is weird, Rudy. I already told you the truth.”

“Don’t you want a hundred slugs? If you’re already telling me the truth, just take the money and tell me again.”

“Go away, Rudy.”

He gave me a knowing look. “Yeah. I thought so.”

“Thought what?”

“I’ve known you since you were a little delinquent. You don’t want to admit it, but you’re just like your father. You have his business ethics.”

“So?” I pouted and looked away.

“You’ll lie all day if we’re just talking. But if I pay for the truth, that makes it a business deal. And a Bashara never reneges on a deal.”

I ran out of smartassed things to say. It’s rare, but it happens once in a while.

He pointed to Hibby. “That HIB would be a great way to open an airlock without authorization.”

“I suppose.”

“You’d have to get it outside first.”

“I suppose.”

“You could probably sneak it out with a tourist EVA.”

“You getting at something, Rudy?”

He tapped on his Gizmo. “There are no surveillance cameras on airlocks. We’re not a police state. But there is a security camera in the Visitors Center gift shop.”

He turned the screen to face me. There I was, walking through the gift shop in my disguise. He paused the playback. “According to the transaction she made to get on the train, her name is Nuha Nejem. Strange thing is, her Gizmo is offline now. She’s about your height, build, and skin color, wouldn’t you say?”

I leaned in to look at the screen. “You know there’s more than one short Arab woman on the moon, right? Besides, she’s wearing a niqab. Have you ever seen me in traditional clothes? I’m not what you’d call a devout Muslim.”

“Neither is she.” He swiped the screen a few times. “The train has a security camera too.”

Now his Gizmo showed video from the train. The nice French guy stood up and offered me his seat. I bowed to him and sat down.

“Chivalry isn’t dead,” I said. “Good to know.”

“Muslims don’t bow to people,” Rudy said. “Even Muhammad didn’t let anyone bow to him. They bow to Allah and no one else. Ever.”

Shit. I really should have known that. Maybe I should have paid attention when I was young—before Dad gave up on bringing me into the faith.

“Huh,” I said. “Don’t know what to tell ya.”

Rudy leaned against the wall. “I’ve got you this time, Jazz. This isn’t some minor smuggling. It’s a hundred million slugs’ worth of property damage. You’re going down.”

I shook a little. Not from fear. From rage. Didn’t that asshole have better things to do than micromanage my life?! Leave me the fuck alone!

I don’t think I hid it very well.

“What’s the matter? No comeback?” he said. “You didn’t do this for fun. This has ‘work-for-hire’ written all over it. Tell me who hired you, and I’ll put in a good word with the administrator. It’ll keep you from getting deported.”

I kept my mouth a thin line.

“Come on, Jazz. Just tell me it was Trond Landvik and we can all move on with life.”

I tried not to react, but I failed. How the hell did he know that?

He read my expression. “He’s been selling Earthside holdings to amass a huge slug balance. He must be planning to buy something big in Artemis. Sanchez Aluminum, I’m guessing.”

He must have wanted Trond pretty bad. He was willing to pass up an opportunity to take me down once and for all. But still…rolling on Trond? Not my style. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He put the Gizmo back in his pocket. “Why do you have a HIB?”

“I’m delivering it. I’m a porter. Delivering shit’s my whole job.”

“Who sent it? And who is it going to?”

“Can’t tell you,” I said. “Discretion about deliveries is guaranteed. I have a reputation to uphold.”

He stared me down for a moment, but I didn’t break my expression.

He frowned, then stepped back. “Fine. But this isn’t going away. Powerful people are very angry.”

“Then they’re angry at someone else. I didn’t do anything.”

Then, to my utter surprise, he turned and walked away. “You’ll be in over your head soon. When that happens, give me a call.”

“Wha—” I began. But then I clammed up. If he wasn’t taking me in, I sure as hell didn’t want to break the spell.

This didn’t make sense. Rudy had been after me for years. This was pretty damned solid evidence. Enough to convince the administrator, I was sure. She’d chuck my reprobate ass down to Earth without a second thought.

If he really wanted Trond, why not arrest me? If I was facing deportation, I’d be way more likely to rat out Trond, right?

What the hell?

—

I needed a drink. I stopped off at Hartnell’s, sat in my usual seat, and signaled Billy. Time to drown my misery in alcohol and testosterone. I’d have a few cheap beers, throw on something sexy, head to an Aldrin nightclub, and go home with a good-looking guy. Hey, I could even give Svoboda’s condom a trial run. Why not?

“All right, luv?” said Billy. “Try this batch. New formulation.”

He pushed a shot glass forward and grinned from ear to ear.

I eyed it suspiciously. “Billy, really, I just want a beer.”

“Give ’er a try. Just a sip and your first beer’s on the ’ouse.”

I spent a moment in deliberation, but decided a free beer was a free beer. I sipped the shot.

I have to admit: I was surprised. I thought it would taste terrible, like last time. But instead, it tasted terrible in an entirely new way. The flaming hot misery of before was gone, only to be replaced with something savory and foul. I spat it out.

Unable to speak, I pointed to the beer taps.

“Hrm,” Billy said. He pulled me a pint and handed it over. I gulped at it like a lost desert traveler who found an oasis.

“Okay,” I said, wiping my mouth. “Okay. Was that horseradish? I swear there was horseradish in there.”

“No, it’s rum. Well, rum extract and effanol.”

“How the fuck did you start with rum and end up with this?”

“I’ll give it another go later,” he said. “Must be somefin’ in the effanol removal process. I do have a vodka to try out if you’re game.”

“Maybe later,” I said. “Right now I want another beer.”

My Gizmo buzzed. A message from Trond: “Concerned about that last package.”

“Shit,” I mumbled. I had no idea how to kill that last harvester.

“Putting final details on delivery plan now.”

“I am presently a dissatisfied customer. Urgency on delivery is required.”

“Understood.”

“Maybe I should find another porter to deliver? If you’re too busy.”

I frowned at my Gizmo.

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“Let’s talk this over in person. I’m available all day.”

“I’ll be over in a bit.” I put the Gizmo back in my pocket.

“You look pissed,” said Billy. “And I don’t mean drunk.”

“Customer-service issue,” I said. “Gonna have to smooth it over in person.”

“Cancel that second beer, then?”

I sighed. “Yeah. I guess I better.”

—

I walked up to the Landvik estate’s main entrance and rang the chime.

No answer. Huh. That was odd. Where was Irina and her trademark scowl? I’d already worked out some choice smartass things to say to her.

I rang again. Still nothing.

That’s when I noticed the damage on the door. Just a little scuffing at the edge. Right about where you’d put a crowbar if you wanted to break in. I winced. “Aww, come on…”

I pushed open the door and peeked into the foyer. No sign of Irina or Trond. A decorative vase lay on the ground next to its usual display pedestal. A splash of bright-red blood on the wall— “Nope!” I said.

I spun on my heel and stormed back into the hallway. “Nope, nope, nope!”

Dear Kelvin,