“We were discovered through one of those careless little slips that always happen to other operatives,” Porsupah continued philosophically. “It’s always the little slips. Of the myriad jukill ways to ruin an assignment! And we as much as had sealed proof that he was running the stuff through Repler! I don’t mind telling you, friend, you pulled us out of a whisker-thin spot.” The appendages in question gave a humorous twitch.

“Now, don’t get me started again,” said Mal, grinning. “If it’s any consolation, you were lined out the right way. I’ve seen a shipment. Several grams worth.”

“You have?” Kitten shouted excitedly. She shot to her feet, then hunched over suddenly. She sat down slowly, muttering. After an uncomfortable silence she looked up and continued as though nothing had happened.

“There are several things I must do when we get out of here, Captain. One of the first is to shut off—as slowly as possible—a narcissistic amalgam of fermented proteins named Russell Kingsley.”

Mal perked up more, interested. “So that was old man Kingsley’s boy? I’d heard about him. Appears they weren’t all rumors. Only the good things. You work for a man and you really only know him professionally.”

Now it was Porsupah’s turn to express interest. “You are friends of the family, then?”

“Only as far as the bank. I’m on Repler now because the Umbra’s making delivery on a major shipment for Chatham Kingsley Fisheries and Goods, Ltd. The old man’s a bit of a decadent type himself, but only healthy stuff. I really don’t think he’s aware that his itty-bitty baby boy’s a romping sadist. Mother died when the boy was a kid. I’d assume Russell’s been left to develop his own life-style since then.”

“I’m touched,” said Kitten in a voice that would chill molten copper.

“He does dote on the kid,” Mal added.

“I am sorry for that,” she continued in the same tones. “I had hoped his imminent extinction wouldn’t inconvenience anyone else. I still can’t really believe it would. Still,” she continued a little easier, “to know that you’ve actually seen the stuff . . .”

“About that. Appears that Rose’s latest shipment accidentally got mixed in with Kingsley’s cargo. Mixup was discovered accidentally by Rose, intentionally by two of his operatives, and accidentally by me. I came here with the idea of striking a bargain: In return for him halting traffic in the jaster, I wouldn’t go to the authorities with enough warrant for a mindwipe. Don’t get me wrong. Most drugs I could care less about—let the idiots who need them have ’em. May they kill themselves off quickly and quietly. Bloodhype is something else. It sheds filth on everyone who’s seen what it does. I’ve seen . . . but instead, I had to use it to bargain you two out. He fully intended to kill you, you know.”

“You still shouldn’t have agreed to it,” Kitten said.

“You had no say in the matter,” replied Mal.

“Suppose I kill myself now and Porsupah does likewise?”