“Huh,” Amos said, wondering if this was some new interrogation technique in the cop playbook. He leaned back in the chair to get comfortable, maybe try to catch some shut-eye after the nauseating shuttle ride.

“What is this? Nap time? Someone wake him the fuck up,” a familiar voice said.

Chrisjen Avasarala was on the screen, looking down on him, her face four times its real size on the giant monitor.

“Either I’m not in any trouble, or I’m in all of it,” Amos said with a grin. “How you doin’, Chrissie?”

“Good to see you too. Call me that again and I’ll have an officer beat you gently with a cattle prod,” Avasarala replied, though Amos thought he caught a hint of a smile on her face.

“Sure thing, Madam Uber Secretary. This a social call, or…?”

“Why,” Avasarala said, all traces of humor gone, “are you on Earth?”

“Came to pay respects to a friend who died. Did I forget to file a form or something?”

“Who? Who died?”

“None of your fucking business,” Amos said with a false amiability.

“Holden didn’t send you?”

“Nope,” Amos replied, feeling the anger start to warm his belly like a slug of good scotch. He tested the restraints, calculating his odds of getting out of them. Of fighting his way past a room full of cops. It made him smile without realizing it.

“If you’re here for Murtry, he isn’t on Earth right now,” Avasarala said. “He claims you beat him half to death in the Rocinante’s airlock during the flight back. Do you mean to finish the job?”

“Murtry swung first, so technically, that was self-defense. And if I’d wanted him dead, don’t you think he’d be dead? It’s not like I quit hitting him because I was tired.”

“So what, then? If you have a message for me from Holden just spit it out. If Holden is sending messages to someone else, tell me who and what they are right now.”

“Holden didn’t send me to do shit,” Amos said. “Am I repeating myself? I feel like I’m repeating myself.”

“He —” Avasarala started, but Amos cut her off.

“He’s the captain of the ship I sail on, he ain’t the boss of my fucking life. I’ve got personal shit to do, and I came here to do it. Now either book me for something or let me go.”

Amos hadn’t realized Avasarala was leaning forward in her chair until she relaxed back into it. She let out a long breath that turned into a sigh. “You’re fucking serious, aren’t you?”

“Not known for my comic stylings.”

“All right. But you understand my concern.”

“That Holden is up to something? Have you met that guy? He’s never done anything secretly in his life.”

Avasarala laughed at that. “True. But if he’s sending his hired killer to Earth, we —”

“Wait, what?”

“If Holden was —”

“Forget Holden. You called me his hired killer. Is that how you guys think of me? The killer on Holden’s payroll?”