“Well, we'll be doing at least an hour every day, now. From here on in, we're going by the book.”
Cabral laughed suddenly, unexpectedly.
“Did I say something funny, Private?”
“Oh no, Sir. I mean, yeah, you did say something funny, but I guess you didn't know it. You said ‘by-the-book,' Sir. That's what the workers call Mr. Perlenmann.”
Lee leaned back on his elbows. “Why do they call Perlenmann ‘by-the-book'?”
“Well, it's sort of a double meaning, sir. I mean, he has all those books, right? Thousands of them. But it's also a joke about how he does things. Everything with Perlenmann is ‘by-the-book,' you know?”
Lee licked salty perspiration off his upper lip; odd, Cabral's description didn't quite jibe with his own perception of Perlenmann. “Tell me, Eddie, what do you think of all this sabotage business? Who do you think is behind it, the hardline Dirtsiders or the Sols?”
The Brazilian shrugged. “I don't know, Lieutenant. Could be either one, I guess.”
“What about the rank and file Upsiders? Are there any of them that might have a reason to shut down Callisto?”
Fast Eddie frowned. “I dunno, Sir. I don't see why they would.”
“Me neither. What about the Outbounders?”
“The Outbounders? But why, sir? If there isn't enough fuel, they can't leave.”
That's true, Eddie—which is also why no one would ever suspect them of destroying fuel to frame the group that was most likely to prevent them from leaving the system and resorting to violence: the Sols.
“Besides,” Eddie was continuing, “The Outbounder leaders—Briggs, Kerkonnen, even Xi—they're real nice, real pacifico. They've never done nothing that was, like, harmful or sneaky.”
Well, if this line of inquiry was to bear fruit, it certainly wouldn't be as a consequence of Fast Eddie's political perspicacity. Might as well get back to basics. “Rating, how long since you've done any shooting?”
“Long time, Sir; months.” Fast Eddie's eager smile was a testimony to the fact that he liked guns—a lot.
“Then it's about time we got you back in practice, Rating. What do you use for a range around here?”
* * *
Early the next day, Callisto's comm specialist paged Lee in his planetside quarters. “Incoming message from the Gato, Lieutenant Strong. Shall I match encryption?”
“Yes, please do. Put them through.”
A moment later, Bernie and Finder were crowding their faces into his screen. “Hi, Skipper. How's the chow down there?”
”Indistinguishable from what you're having up there.”
“Ouch. That bad? Well, so much for officer perks, I guess.”
“I guess. Do you have an update for me, Bernie?”
“Sure do. Skipper, this whole hijacking incident is getting weirder and weirder.”
Lee wondered how that was possible. “In what way?”
“Well, when we sent the hijackers' digitized DNA samples back to Earth, they assigned it the lowest priority status in their search queue.”
“That's odd. That search isn't hard and we should be at the top of the priority list.”
“That's what I thought. So we took the liberty of sending the samples to a pair of our Upside friends. One works database management on L-5, and the other is in charge of immigration record-keeping on Mars. They got us concrete results—and very fast.”
“Fast means that the hijackers were already part of the population that is pre-flagged for scrutiny.”
“Bingo. Seems the hijackers were all either convicted or accused felons.”
“Pawns for someone else, then. Not surprising.”
“No, but this is: every single one of them were Upsiders. They were either from cis-lunar or Belt communities. And all genuinely anti-social types, some with diagnoses of possible sociopathia. What do make of it all, Skipper?”
“Nothing conclusive. They're all Upside-born, so perhaps they were tapped by other Upsiders—Spacers, maybe—who needed cold-blooded killers. But on the other hand, it sounds like someone on Earth was involved, someone who had enough clout to get these brutes out of jail or off parole in exchange for doing this job.”
“But why?”
“Until we find what they were after on the Blossom—until we find that needle in the haystack—I don't think we're going to get any closer to having an answer to that question, Finder. About which: has there been anything interesting on the cargo claim lists send up from Callisto?
“Nothing particularly riveting, Skipper. We've been examining every piece they've asked for, including sensor scans for hidden compartments. If they have electronic components, we've run full data analyses. So far, nothing.”
“What about tantrums by the brass? Has anyone had a coronary about my decision to divert to Callisto?”
“So quiet it's scary, Lieutenant. We've received dispatches and routine orders, but that's all.”