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At moments, perhaps, the Grand Duke recollected the Louis Quillan who had spent three months in Manneville, but only, I think, as one recalls some pleasurable acquaintance; Quillan had little resembled the Marquis de Soyecourt, rake, tippler and exquisite of Versailles, and in the Grand Duke you would have found even less of Nelchen Thorn's betrothed.
Liners we can check." "Sorry," Trigger said meekly. "I'm still new at this business." "And thank God for that!" said Quillan. "If you have the time and the money, it's also a good idea, of course, to zig a few times before you zag towards where you're really heading. Actually, I suppose, the credit for picking you up so fast should go to those collating computers." "Oh?" "Yes."
Trigger had been waiting for a chance to get into the conversation. "Just who," she demanded now, frowning, "is a bit ta-ta at the moment?" "You," said Quillan. "You're doped, remember? You'll ride up front with the Commissioner. Here." He picked her up, plasmoid purse and all, and set her down on the front seat. Holati Tate, she discovered then, was already inside.
If you want to stay alive, don't move unless you're in armor." There was silence. Quillan sat unmoving, eyes fixed on the screen. Trigger stood just behind him. Her legs had begun to tremble. She'd better tell him. "Quillan " For an instant, in the screen, there was something like heat shimmer at the far end of the passage. Then she saw her cabin door pop open.
"Commissioner Tate has informed me," the Ermetyne said, "that this group does not recognize the principle of diplomatic immunity in my case. Under the circumstances I must accept that. And so I shall answer any questions I can." She looked at the pocket quizzer Quillan was checking over unhurriedly. "But such verification instruments are of no use in questioning me." "Why not?" Quillan asked idly.
"There are things I wanted to discuss with you privately anyway. If we can't get through to Mantelish in another ten minutes, we'll go ahead with that. I would have liked to have Quillan here to fill us in with data about some of the top-level crooks in the Hub. They're a specialty of his. I don't know too much about them myself." He paused.
The concealed table ComWeb murmured, "A caller requests to be connected with Major Quillan. Is it permitted?" "Oho!" Quillan said poisonously. "I suspected we should have stayed off circuit! Who's the caller?" "The name given is Keth Deboll." Quillan laughed. "Give the little wolf Major Quillan's regards and tell him it was a good try. I'll look him up tomorrow." He gave Trigger gentle wink.
In actual fact she and Quillan were in a little room by themselves, and with more than ordinary privacy via an audio block and a reconstruct scrambler which Quillan had switched on at their entry. "I'll leave us out of the viewer circuit," he remarked, "until you've finished your questions." "Viewer circuit?" she repeated. Quillan waved a hand around. "That," he said.
When they switched off the illusion background for a look at the goings-on during the Garth stopover, she took the occasion to study her companions in more detail. There were three men at the table; Lyad and herself. Quillan sat opposite her. Belchik Pluly's unseemly person, in a black silk robe which left his plump arms bare from the elbows down, was on Quillan's right.
Professor Mantelish hadn't yet got back from his latest field trip, and Major Heslet Quillan just wasn't there. It looked, Trigger decided, not at all reluctantly, like a good day to lean into her Precol job a bit. She told the staff to pitch everything not utterly routine her way, and leaned.
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