Free Exit Alpha by Clinton Smith Page B

up to it. The insult in the conference. Then lunch. Then this. Because Zuiden’s a deadshit but he’s not mad.’
    ‘You need a reality check,’ Hunt said.
    Cain said, ‘Don’t flatter yourself. The man’s a Grade Three. I chipped him at lunch and he looked guilty. I’d say Vanqua told him to bait you, then poke you.’
    ‘And to kill a sailor?’
    ‘No. He swatted a fly.’
    Her smooth brow dimpled to a frown. ‘So why would Vanqua put him up to it?’
    ‘To get at Ron.’ He stared at his department head. ‘Well?’
    Rhonda’s furious glance. She was back on the job. ‘You and Zuiden hate each other — hate each other so much you need each other. So your judgement might be . . .’
    ‘Come off it.’
    ‘He doesn’t understand you. You don’t understand him. And it bothers you both. Because you secretly admire each other. We used to call you Cain and Disable.’
    ‘Spare me the arabesques. What’s your point?’
    She moved a protective hand to the younger woman’s thigh. As far as Cain could see the loving was one-way. ‘You’re full of theories without substantiation. What if he just wanted to sink the salami?’
    ‘I’ve given my opinion. The deadshit’s porked your girl . . . killed a sailor on this ship. Now what do I do about it?’
    She stroked Hunt’s hair, thinking. ‘Be in Room C3 in half an hour. The meeting with Vanqua. Don’t volunteer any information unless I prompt you. Clear?’
    ‘Pellucid. But factor this in. The thing in Chartres. Rehana had drawn a “Z” on the sheet in her blood. I thought it might have meant Zia. It could have meant Zuiden — could have meant he’d sabotaged the operation. What if he did the job on Rehana before I got there?’
    ‘Ray, I know you want to help. But we’re all upset just now. The best thing you can do is leave the thinking to me and just — stay out of it. That’s an order.’
    ‘Shit.’ He upended his drink and left.
    He walked through the sinews of the boat, cursing her and loving her too. Her attempt to be kind had made him feel old and useless.
    Pat’s comment echoed in his head. ‘It’s over, Ray. You’re yesterday’s hero now.’
    Room C3 was barely large enough for the small bolted-down table and six chairs. Vanqua sat at the table’s end alone, nodded as Cain came in. ‘The exceptional Mr Cain. Please sit.’
    Cain sat on a chair at the side, determined to say nothing as instructed.
    ‘So.’ His sad face and speculative stare. ‘I still have no word of Murchison. What do you know?’
    Murchison? What was this? They were back to Chartres discussing Murchison? ‘No idea. He wasn’t there when it happened. It was a cleaning job and fast ship-out. No time for head checks.’
    ‘Mm.’
    Rhonda entered, sat opposite Vanqua, turned to Cain. ‘Tell him what happened.’
    Vanqua listened to his account, said, ‘Yes, yes. I’ve been informed.’
    ‘And . . . ?’ Rhonda snapped.
    ‘I thought this meeting was a brief on Murchison.’
    ‘Fuck Murchison.’
    Their conflict made the air vibrate.
    Vanqua gazed at the lagged pipes above and stroked the muscles of his neck. Cain knew five ways to kill him by attacking that neck. The body was so vulnerable when you knew. ‘Jan tells me Mr Cain has been indulging his sexual tastes.’
    Cain lurched forward. ‘What?’
    Rhonda put a hand on his arm.
    ‘I suppose you’re aware what training her cost us? Millions.’
    ‘Let’s get back to the exploits of Zuiden,’ Rhonda said.
    Vanqua made inconsequential sounds and waved his hands. ‘He’s been under great pressure, which has now been removed and . . . his natural . . . exuberance has emerged.’
    ‘Exuberance? What are you? A fucking epistemological realist? Cut the crap.’
    ‘We’re talking about a Grade Three.’ The surgeon pursed his lips. ‘He’s purpose-designed — just like Cain. Just as Cain is extraordinary, so is Jan. But in a different way — a destroyer.’
    ‘One you can’t