Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [79]
“You’ve got my word,” said Ben Zoma. He stood. “And thank you.”
Picard was genuinely confused. “For what?”
“For having enough trust in me to confide all this.”
The captain nodded. “Just do me one favor.”
“What’s that?” asked Ben Zoma.
“Don’t turn out to be the murderer.”
His friend nodded. “It’s a deal,” he said.
Just then Beverly Crusher’s voice came over the intercom. “Captain Picard?”
“Here, Doctor. One moment, please.” He looked at Ben Zoma meaningfully.
“You want me to leave?” asked the other man.
“I do.”
“But I already know what’s going on. And it might be news about Cad.”
“If it is,” the captain assured him, “I’ll let you know.”
Ben Zoma frowned. “All right,” he said finally. “It’s your ship. I suppose you can conduct your investigations any way you like.”
Reluctantly, the former first officer of the Stargazer got up and left. The ready room doors closed silently behind him.
Looking up, Picard addressed the intercom grid. “Sorry, Doctor. I had some company.”
“I understand. In fact, I had some myself a few moments ago.”
“Really.”
“Yes. Greyhorse.” She took a deep breath—so deep it was audible over the intercom system. “Captain, I told him what was going on. He barged into sickbay and saw Cadwallader and—and it was pretty obvious what had happened to her. At that point it made more sense for him to know than to have him asking a lot of questions all over the ship.”
Picard cursed inwardly. If he’d been aware of this, he’d never have—
“Sir?”
“Doctor…our friend Greyhorse is not the only one who knows. I just let Ben Zoma in on the details myself.”
For a second or two, Crusher was silent. “Well,” she said, “it seems our secret is no longer as secret as we would like.”
“That much is certain. I think it’s time we had another meeting. I’ll see you in the conference lounge in ten minutes.”
“Aye, sir.”
The captain stood. He could feel matters getting out of hand.
It was time to rein them in.
Twelve
Picard looked around the table—at Riker, Troi, Worf, and Crusher. “And so,” he said, “I take full responsibility for my decision to confide in Captain Ben Zoma—just as Dr. Crusher takes responsibility for confiding in Carter Greyhorse. But I do not want anyone else let in on this—not under any circumstances.”
“It’s going to get harder and harder to keep it under wraps,” Riker pointed out. “If Ben Zoma noticed, others will too.”
Troi nodded. “Ben Zoma said as much.”
“Nonetheless,” the captain insisted, “we will do everything we can to maintain security. Any questions?”
There were none.
“Very well, then. Let us turn to our investigation. Counselor Troi?”
“Unfortunately,” the empath said, “I have nothing of substance to report. A couple of our visitors—specifically Asmund and Joseph—have problems. But none I could point to as a prerequisite for murder.”
Picard turned to Worf. “Lieutenant—your findings.”
Worf scowled. “We analyzed the meal eaten by Loyosha just prior to his losing consciousness. As we suspected, it was laced with a narcotic that induces sleep. The source of the meal was the food service unit near security—which was programmed to include this narcotic in three of Loyosha’s favorite dishes.” He looked at Picard. “The unit showed no signs of tampering, sir. So it must have been reprogrammed from another location—just as you suggested.”
“Reprogrammed from another location?” Riker whistled softly. “Our assassin’s grasp of technology gets more impressive all the time.”
Picard grunted. “What about the rest of your inquiry?” he asked Worf.
The Klingon’s scowl deepened. “I personally traced the whereabouts of each visitor at the time of the blackout. Morgen and Cadwallader, as we know, were with Dr. Crusher. Professor Simenon was in engineering with Commanders Data and La Forge. Captain Ben Zoma, Dr. Greyhorse, Commander Asmund,