our case. Looking into it, though, the connection is obvious. The shell company’s links to Kote were not hard to ferret out. The company is the owner of record for the ship, and Kote’s name is on the original incorporation paperwork of the company.”
“Hold on a second,” said Raven. “Are you seriously telling me you looked all that up as well?”
He looked slightly confused. “Of course. How else would I know it?”
Raven shook her head in disbelief. “Never mind…”
Andrea stepped in. “So, let’s review. A shell company founded by David Kote owns that ship, and Huxley may have seen the ship and used it to meet with Kote.”
“That’s the essence of it, yes. I don’t know why you’d reduce it down like that, but yes.”
Vincenzo Veraldi steepled his hands in front of his face, deep in thought. “I think it’s significant,” he said at last. “I think we should hit the ship.”
“Kote is a lot more than just a random rich person,” Andrea pointed out. “If we hit that ship, we’re going to need an airtight legal justification. Or we’re going to need to go in hard.”
“Go in hard?” I asked. “You mean kill everyone on the ship?”
“If necessary, yes.” She nodded. “I’m not willing to lose any more agents over this case if there’s anything I can do about it. But if we go in there with the right coverage, we may not even have to kill any of them.”
“You’re talking about the Section 3 option?” Veraldi asked.
Andrea smiled. “Exactly. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Ages. We may need to fill Tycho in, though.”
“Oh, I think I’ve got the gist of it,” I said. “Section 3 of Sol Federation Intelligence is responsible for investigating interplanetary crime. So you go in there with some fake Section 3 credentials and arrest the guy.”
“Close,” replied Andrea. “Section 3 is an intelligence unit. They don’t have arrest powers. The actual arrest would have to be carried out by your old buddies.”
I didn’t know why this had never occurred to me before, but now that I thought about it, I could remember two or three occasions when Section 3 intelligence agents had accompanied Gabe and me on an especially sensitive arrest. Had those really been Section 3 agents, or Section 9 agents pretending to be something they weren’t?
“Same picture, different view.”
“How’s that?” asked Andrea.
“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter.”
“That’s the spirit, Tycho.” She smiled, and I got the impression she knew exactly what I was thinking about.
I finished drinking my coffee and checked in with myself to see how I was feeling. I concluded that I was doing surprisingly well considering how much I’d had to drink at the Emerald City the night before. Raven had wanted to stay out dancing, and I didn’t really want to dance. That left me only one option, which was to sit at my booth and down one cocktail after another while I watched her. That was what her comment about me being a beast had been all about. By the time we got done, she’d had to help me stand up on our way back to the safehouse.
“How do we know this ship is going to stay where it’s docked?” Veraldi asked.
Thomas shrugged. “We don’t. If we move on this, we have to do it quickly. Too slow and we could be chasing this ship all over the solar system for years before we get another chance to search it.”
Andrea stood up. “I’ll get in touch with the Operator for a warrant. Tycho, can you get in touch with your old crew and get them to coordinate with us?”
I wasn’t a wanted fugitive, but I had killed a member of the Arbiter Force. How did Capanelli possibly expect me to do this? They would sooner want me dead.
“Relax, Tycho.” Raven put a hand on my arm. “You’ll have a fake ID. Section 3, remember?”
Andrea looked stricken. “Shit, Tycho, I forgot about your situation there. I’m sorry. Yeah, we can come up with a fake ID for you, but if you want someone else to do it instead—”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it. It’s just kind of a challenge.”
“Maybe not the best sort of challenge for a hangover day.” Raven grinned. “I can do it, Tycho, it’s no problem.”
“No, no.” I shook my head. “I’ll do it, I know what they’ll be looking for better than anyone else here.”
“Good man,” said Vincenzo—probably the closest thing to a compliment he’d given me since Mars.
Andrea turned to Andrew Jones.