Double Helix 06_ The First Virtue - Michael Jan Friedman [35]
Again, a reference to the precious metal seemed to work wonders with the alien’s powers of concentration. “Wait!” he howled, holding up all four of his long-fingered hands. “I don’t know where Nedrach is, but I can tell you who would know.”
“And who’s that?” asked Crusher.
“His rider,” came the reply. “And him I know how to find.”
The commander wasn’t familiar with the term “rider,” but it wasn’t difficult to guess what it might mean. A steed or a mount, a beast of burden who did the work, needed someone to tell him where to go and what to do.
“And where can we find Nedrach’s rider?” Crusher asked.
Languidly, keeping his eyes on the bartender’s face, he again shook out the three slips of latinum-this time, into his palm. He ran his thumb over the shiny metal and waited for the alien to speak.
“There is a klaapish-klaapish’na house not far from here,” said the bartender, his dark popeyes glued to the latinum. “The name of the place is The House of Comfort.”
Jack kept his expression as neutral as possible. He wasn’t sure what a klaapish-klaapish’na house was, but with the name The House of Comfort, he could make a pretty good guess.
Already, he was formulating his next message to Beverly: Hi, honey. Hope you and Wes are well. My most recent assignment took me undercover to an alien brothel. Hope you understand the sacrifices an officer has to make in the line of duty….
“You’ll want to find a Melacron named Pudris Barrh,” said the bartender. “You tell him you know he’s Nedrach’s rider and he’ll have to be the one to tell you yes or no.”
Crusher nodded. He had gotten what he came for. With a flourish, he dropped two slips of the latinum into the alien’s outstretched hand.
The barkeeper looked up with an angry expression on his face. “There were three on the counter,” he snarled.
“Three to put me in touch with Nedrach,” the human said, conscious of maintaining the hardnosed reputation he had established minutes earlier. “You didn’t do that. You only told me how to find his rider.”
The alien seemed about to object. Crusher smiled up at him. “Two slips of latinum-and keeping your pretty face from being rearranged. I’d call that good for a few moments’ work.” He bowed almost insultingly. “Thank you for your time. Nice place you run here.”
Then, without another word, the commander opened the door and stepped back into the main gaming room. With a last glance at the sullen bartender, Ensign Tuvok followed.
“So far, so good,” the human muttered.
The Vulcan didn’t comment.
Some of the customers shot them bold, appraising glances as they crossed the floor. But Crusher met each of the looks with equal boldness. Then he and Tuvok opened the front door and walked outside.
“Progress,” the commander said triumphantly as they strode away from The Den. “Now we…”
He noticed that the Vulcan was giving him a look that could only be classified as a glare.
“What?” asked Crusher.
Tuvok didn’t answer.
“Come on,” said the commander, “you’re obviously upset about something. What is it?”
“I am not upset,” came the reply. “I am a Vulcan.”
Crusher rolled his eyes. “All right, then. Let’s just say you seem to disapprove of something.”
Tuvok frowned at him. “I do disapprove.”
“Well, why?”
“You took a clearly unnecessary risk with the bartender,” the ensign explained with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Your implied threat and your extravagant display of latinum accomplished nothing except to draw unwanted and perhaps dangerous attention to us.”
The commander was stung by Tuvok’s disapproval. “That’s not true at all,” he said. “It got us exactly what we wanted-information on how to get hold of Bin Nedrach.”
“Perhaps,” the Vulcan responded. “However, we could have obtained the same information in a far less public and confrontational fashion. Surely there were others here who know of Nedrach and his rider. We could have approached them quietly. Subtly.”
Crusher stifled an impulse to put a comradely