It was: he sat behind the steel desk and hammered away at the keys on the terminal there. Looked at the screen and scowled in my direction.
"Three women admitted today. None named Bibs,"
"How very unusual." Scorn dripped from my voice. "Can it be that the criminal classes now use aliases?" He did not answer but tapped away at the terminal again. The fax buzzed and produced three sheets of paper. Three color portraits. I dropped two of them onto the floor and handed the third back.
Bibs.
He hashed some more keys, then slumped back and rubbed his chin as he studied the screen.
"It fits, it fits," he muttered. "Marianney Giuffrida, age twenty-five, occupation given as electrotechnician with deepspace experience. Arrested on a drugs possession charge, anonymous tip, swears she was framed. No other details."
"Ask her about Garth. Use persuasion. Make her talk."
"You have our thanks for your assistance, diGriz. It will go on your record." He tapped a number into the phone. "But you have been watching too many films. Uiere is no way we can force people to give evidence. But we can question and observe and draw conclusions. They will take you back to your cell now."
"Gee, thanks for the thanks. Thanks for nothing. Can you at least do me the favor of telling me how long you intend to keep me here?"
"That should be easy enough to find out." A quick access of the terminal and a sage nod of the head as the door opened behind me. "You will be leaving us the day after tomorrow. A spacer will be stopping at a planet with the interesting name of Bit 0' Heaven where, it appears, you have to answer some criminal charges."
"Guilty until found guilty, I suppose." I sneered and whined to hide the surge of enthusiasm that raced through me. Once out of here I really would be out of here. I ignored the rough clutch and muttered complaints of my warders and permitted myself to be docilely led back to my cell. I was going to be good, very, very good, until the day after tomorrow.
But I lay awake a long time after that, staring into the darkness, working out how I was going to pry the information.
"Sign here."
I signed. The ancient graybeard behind the desk passed over the plastic bag containing all of my worldly possessions, forcibly removed from me when I had been incarcerated. I reached for them but the fat guard reached even faster.
"Not yet, prisoner," he said, whisking them away from my clutching fingers. "These will be forwarded to the arresting authorities."
"They're mine!"
"Take it up with them. All set, Rasco?"
"My name's not Rasco!"
"Mine is. Shut up, " the other guard said. A well-muscled and nasty individual whose right wrist was secured to my left by a pair of shining cuffs. He pulled hard on this connecting link so I stumbled toward him. "You do what I say and no backtalk or fanny stuff."
"Yes, sir. Sorry."
I lowered my eyes in humility which caused him to smirk with assumed superiority. He should only know that I was using the opportunity to look more closely at the cuffs. Bulldog-Crunchers, sold throughout the known galaxy, guaranteed foolproof. Maybe proof against fools but I could open them in under two seconds. It was going to be a nice day.
Fatso walked on my right side, well-connected Rasco on my left. I marched in step with them, eager to leave the prison and examine the world waiting outside the League building. I had come here in a closed van and had seen nothing. Eagerness possessed me in expectation of a first glimpse of my new home; thoughts about my forcefill removal from this planet may have preoccupied my guardians—but were the farthest thing from my mind at this moment.
Exiting the building was not easily done—and I gave myself another mental lack for even thinking of breaking out of this bunker-skyscraper. There were three doors to go out through, one after another, each sealed as tightly as an airlock. Our passes were slipped into computerized machines that hummed and clicked—then robot sensors examined our fingerprints and retinal patterns to make sure we matched the details on the passes. This was done three times before the outer portal hummed open and a wave of warm air, smell and sound washed in.
As we went down the steps to the street I gaped like a rube. I had never seen anything like this before. Of course my experience was strictly limited since this was only the third planet I had ever visited. My life on the porcuswine farms of Bit 0' Heaven and my service in the swamps of Spiovente had not prepared me for the manifold impressions that bombarded me.
