Fortune's Light - Michael Jan Friedman [86]
“You could show your gratitude,” he suggested, in response to Larrak’s speech. He shifted his weight in his chair, but it only made the ropes that held him cut more painfully, and his partially healed wound was already a throbbing misery. The Ferengi seemed to be enjoying his discomfort, he noticed. But Larrak was his main concern. “You could let us go.”
Larrak chuckled. “I could, yes. But then you might be inclined to tell someone about my friend Ralk.” He indicated the Ferengi with an outstretched arm, and Ralk nodded his grotesque head. “That would put an end to my plans more surely than the lack of a seal.” He shook his head. “No, I think I’ll keep you here for a while. At least until Fortune’s Light is returned—surreptitiously, of course, so Criathis won’t suspect that I had anything to do with its disappearance. That way, there will be no questions, and everything will proceed according to schedule.”
“And after the merger ceremony?” asked Riker.
“Save your breath,” Lyneea advised him. “After the ceremony, he’ll kill us.” She glared at Larrak. “He would have killed us already if he wasn’t so superstitious. It’s supposed to be bad luck to bloody your hands on the day of a business transaction, and our host believes in luck more than most people.”
Larrak considered her waspishly. “I see that I’m no stranger to you. I wish you were as familiar to me.” He approached Lyneea, his retainers straightening just a hair as their attentiveness increased. “Not that you’re a complete mystery.” He reached out to caress her cheek, then saw the fire in her eyes and thought better of it. “A retainer, no doubt. I’d heard that Criathis had some females on its payroll, and you’re proof of it.”
Lyneea said nothing, but her expression spoke volumes.
Larrak turned his attention to Riker. “As we all know, humans are rare on Imprima. Given the fact that you were searching for the seal—as evidenced by your little excavation effort—and in the company of a Criathan retainer, I’d say you’re here in an official capacity.” He shrugged. “Probably on loan from the Federation vessel that’s been in orbit the last several days—yes?”
Riker didn’t give him the pleasure of an answer. He could feel Lyneea looking at him approvingly.
“You need not respond,” said Larrak. “I have gotten this far without your help. I believe I can reconstruct the rest as well.” He looked to the Ferengi. “Shall I give it a try, Ralk?”
The Ferengi laughed. It was more like a series of barks.
Larrak let the echoes die before he continued. “The Federation trade liaison strikes a deal with one of the madraggi opposed to the merger. Rhurig, maybe, or Lycinthis. The liaison steals the seal, or arranges to have it stolen, and plants it on Terrin’s grounds. His price? Who knows? Probably enough to buy himself a nice retirement somewhere—but well worth it to the madraga who hired him.”
He nodded, smiling to himself, as if his understanding was deepening even as he spoke.
“You two are assigned to catch the Federation’s liaison and to recover Fortune’s Light. At some point you find a homing device and wonder if you can use it to find the seal. It leads you here, to the grounds of Madraga Terrin. Something of a surprise, I expect. And while you’re digging for your buried treasure, you find something else you don’t expect—a Ferengi in the estate house.” He paused. “Close enough?”
He didn’t get an answer, but by this time he probably didn’t expect one.
Larrak made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Really. Did you think no one would notice your footprints? At least the liaison had the sense to do his dirty work during a snowstorm.” He grunted. “Not that it did him much good. He, too, you see, was fascinated by Ralk. Otherwise he might not have come closer to the house—and we might not have noticed him.”
The Ferengi laughed again. The sound grated on Riker’s ears, but Larrak appeared to appreciate it. Birds