Dragon and Judge

The safes were tricky, though not quite as bad as the ones she'd opened aboard ship, and it took the entire day to get them open. But by the time the sun was sinking behind the white wall, even Neverlin was convinced. "Excellent," he said as he peered into the last of the empty safes and then closed the door again. "You were right, Colonel—she does seem to have some talent in this area."

"Or at least some very good equipment," Frost said.

"Either serves our purposes." Neverlin turned to the old Brummga. "Patri?"

For a long moment the Patri continued to stare at Alison, as he'd done pretty much nonstop the entire day. "It may try."

"Excellent," Neverlin said. "Colonel?"

Frost gestured, and Dumbarton and Mrishpaw detached themselves from a section of the wall near the door. "Escort her back to her room," he ordered them. "Instruct the slaves to give her whatever she wants for dinner." He shifted his attention to Alison. "You'll start first thing in the morning," he added. "I suggest you go to bed early and get yourself a good night's sleep."

His eyes narrowed in silent warning. "You'll need it."

With their entire day having been spent in the testing room, Taneem hadn't had a chance to eat anything since the previous evening. Alison made sure to order a large dinner, then left the K'da hiding under the bed while she had herself a quick bath to soothe away her tension.

She was dried and dressed by the time the meal arrived, brought in again by Shoofteelee. The young Wistawk was polite enough, but there was none of the simmering hope and enthusiasm he'd shown the previous evening. He accepted her thanks for the food, told her he'd overheard nothing new from Neverlin or Frost, and left.

After they'd eaten—with Taneem reluctantly but gratefully taking most of the food—Alison settled down for that good night's sleep Neverlin had recommended.

She'd been asleep just over two hours when a sudden hissing roar in her ear jerked her awake.

"What is it?" Taneem whispered anxiously.

"It's all right," Alison whispered back, forcing her muscles to relax. Ever since Neverlin had taken Virgil Morgan's shoulder bag from her she'd been waiting for him to open it. She'd therefore gone to bed each of the past two nights with the receiver from the bugged picture nestled in her ear.

Apparently, the moment had come.

The brief roar of paper rubbing against paper faded away, to be replaced by the sound of familiar human voices. "—know what you expect to find in there," Frost was saying. "Or why you even care about Morgan anymore. We've got the girl, and she's at least as good as he is."

"The question is whether we have her, or whether she has us," Neverlin said pointedly. "I don't like the fact that we can't pull up a single clue as to who she really is."

"Which argues that she's exactly what she claims to be," Frost countered. "Only an especially good professional thief would be able to keep her data and stats out of the system."

There was a tickling on Alison's neck as Taneem slid around her skin, angling for a spot where she could hear better. She ended up with her triangular dragon's head stretched partway across Alison's own face, her ear just below the receiver.

"Maybe," Neverlin said. "Well, well, well."

"What is it?" Frost asked.

"It seems our master safecracker Virgil Morgan has been thinking about changing specialties."

"To what?"

There was a faint crinkling of paper. "To blackmail."

"Yes, I saw those pictures," Frost said. "I couldn't quite make out what was happening."

"Obviously, neither could Morgan," Neverlin said. "Or else he was smart enough to know the police wouldn't be able to figure them out either. I wonder where he got them."

"What are they?" Frost asked.

"Pictures placing me at a little problem we had a few years back on—well, as a matter of fact, right there on Semaline," Neverlin said. There was another shuffling of papers. "All these other papers are from the same thing. Interesting."

"Just how little was this problem?" Frost asked. "Specifically, can Morgan call the cops down on us?"

"The cops would first have to find us," Neverlin said. "Assuming you hid the Advocatus Diaboli properly that's not likely to happen. Besides"—there was a rustling of papers—"we've got all his evidence."

"Unless he has more."

"Unlikely," Neverlin said. "It's clear that he's been adding to his collection over the years. No, I think everything's probably here in this one nice neat package."

Alison nodded to herself. So that was the reason for the Essenay's occasional visits to Semaline. Jack's uncle hadn't been taking money out of the lockbox, as Jack had thought. He'd instead been putting new blackmail material in.

"And if he has copies?" Frost persisted.

"I suppose that's possible," Neverlin conceded, a hint of doubt creeping into his tone. "Though these are definitely the originals."