FORTY-ONE
SHE HADN’T EXPECTED Nyquist to say no.
DeRicci stood in the center of her office, her back to that gigantic screen. She felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Her brain knew it wasn’t Nyquist’s fault. She was the one who had insisted he stay off the case; Romey was the one who hired him and put him on whatever it was he was pursuing.
He was acting in good faith, like the tremendous cop that he was. He had to finish whatever it was, because he and Romey were working the case on the street. Even with Soseki’s assassin dead, there was still another—the one who tried to get the governor-general. And there was probably someone else as well. These men didn’t get into Armstrong with all of that specialized equipment on their own.
They had help.
And Nyquist’s link put him at the port.
When DeRicci realized that, she realized that Nyquist was probably right: whatever he was working on took priority. She was trying to organize a large investigation; he was already in the middle of one.
The problem was twofold: She needed an experienced investigator, someone who could find out information quickly and organize that information just as quickly.
She also needed someone she trusted.
She knew there were a lot more experienced investigators in Armstrong than there were people she trusted. By factors of a thousand.
She gripped the back of the chair tightly, her fingers digging into the soft material. She could contact Andrea Gumiela, the Chief of Detectives, and ask for someone to come to her office. But DeRicci and Gumiela hated each other. They had a truce—they had both realized how effective the other one was—but they didn’t trust each other. And even in an investigation this important, DeRicci couldn’t trust Gumiela to get the best person for the job that DeRicci needed.
Gumiela would send the best person for the job that Gumiela needed, whatever that was. If their needs met, then DeRicci would get a good assistant. If they didn’t meet, then DeRicci would end up with a mole from the Armstrong PD, and a lost afternoon.
Her other choice? She could bring Kilzahn back. He had been observing Romey all day long. He wouldn’t have to come up to speed on the investigation. He would know the entire Soseki part of it.
But Kilzahn wasn’t an investigator. He was a top notch security man, able to find holes in the tightest security system. He was detail-oriented, and he saw through people. That was why DeRicci sent him in the first place, because he saw things.
But that wasn’t enough.
She needed help. Real help. Someone whose skills were equal to hers. Someone whose intelligence was as quick as hers. Someone who understood how she worked, and could survive her quick temper.
There was only one person left to contact. She rubbed a hand over her mouth. If something went wrong, she would never live this down. But half a dozen things had already gone wrong today.
If she screwed this up—if she failed within the next twelve to twenty-four hours—there might not be any governments on the Moon at all. She couldn’t worry about future recriminations.
She had to think about surviving the day.
And to do that, she needed someone brilliant, someone she could trust to work without supervision.
She needed Miles Flint.