Oblivion - Michael Jan Friedman [55]
He was her salvation.
Guinan resisted the urge to look back at the Tellati ball. How strange, she thought again, that a child’s toy should evoke such joy and misery in her. Such memories…
Not so long ago, they would have buried her beneath the weight of longing and despair. But not with Picard at her side. With him there, she could—and would—go on.
Tain found Varitis right where he said he would be—in front of a shadowy Tyrheddan restaurant in the midst of a large, bustling shopping area.
The glinn had only one question when he arrived at Varitis’s side: “Where?”
His underling lifted his chin to point across the shopping area’s main thoroughfare. “There, Glinn. In that footwear shop across the way.”
Tain eyed the place. It had display windows, but he couldn’t see anyone inside. “You’re sure they’re in there?”
“Yes, Glinn.”
“For how long now?”
“Several minutes,” said Varitis.
Several minutes is a long time, Tain reflected. Had the visit been an unproductive one, the Cataxxans would likely have emerged a good deal sooner.
Unless they really went in to buy footwear, he thought. The glinn might have laughed if he hadn’t been so intent on snaring his quarry.
“Your orders?” asked Varitis.
“Spread out,” said Tain, “so it’s not quite so obvious that we’re surveilling the place. But be alert for the moment when the Cataxxans leave. That’s when we’ll—”
Before he could finish, he saw two figures emerge from the footwear shop. A pair of Cataxxans—a male and a female, just as Varitis had said.
At least, they appeared to be Cataxxans. But no one knew better than Tain, who had studied the arts of espionage back on Cardassia Prime, how deceiving an appearance could be.
Fortunately, he had a way to examine the Cataxxans that went deeper than how they looked. Reaching into his tunic, he found it—a flat device about the size of his palm, which he extracted and cupped in his hand. When he pressed a stud on its side, a tiny readout screen lit up.
The device was a sensor, designed to detect enemy life signs in combat situations. Tain had never been in combat but he carried it anyway, as it was useful in his line of work to know one’s friend from one’s foe.
Pointing the sensor at the Cataxxans, he studied the screen. For a moment or two, what he saw was confused by the presence of passersby. Then the thoroughfare cleared and he was able to take an unobstructed reading.
It gave the Cardassian reason to applaud his instincts.
One of the Cataxxans was actually a human—Picard, no doubt, with a skillfully altered appearance. The other was a member of a species Tain’s device couldn’t readily identify.
But, clearly, neither of them was Cataxxan.
“Stay here,” the glinn told Varitis. “Ask the store owner about his conversation with those two.”
Varitis nodded. “Certainly, Glinn.”
In the meantime, Tain and his other two underlings would follow Picard and his companion at a distance. And with a little luck, they would discover that the human was further along in the search for Demmix than they were.
Tain smiled to himself. Maybe the “Cataxxans” had obtained the last bit of information they needed in that footwear shop and were going to meet Demmix at that very moment. Wouldn’t that be a pleasant development?
For him, at least. For everyone else involved, it could turn out most un pleasant.
Tain was still waiting for the right moment to start following Picard and his companion when he saw something that made his gut clench. It wasn’t much—just a nuance of movement in the crowd that someone else would likely have missed.
It forced a curse from him.
“Glinn?” one of his men said.
“Quiet!” he snapped.
There—he saw it again. Tain was dead certain of it now.
The place was crawling with plainclothes security personnel. And they were homing in on Picard and his companion as if they were aware of the fugitives’ true identities.
Tain shook his head in disgust. This is bad, he thought. This is very bad.
If the authorities nabbed Picard and the female, they wouldn’t be able to lead the Cardassians to Demmix. All Tain’s work