Stealing the Elf-King's Roses: The Author's Cut by Diane Duane Page B
Authors: Diane Duane
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anything but the first value, at least not since high school. It’s supposed to be a constant, like the speed of light in normal space. But now here’s this other one. Is it something you get in college physics? Because I admit right now, I wasn’t paying attention in my first-year course. I had a crush on the instructor.”
“Tall guy? Darkhaired?” Gelert said. “Blue eyes? Kind of a drawl—”
“I’d kill you,” Lee said, “but I’d have to explain it to Nuala and the pups afterward, and that would pain me.”
Gelert gave her a slightly penitent look. “All right, withdrawn. But as for this—” He stared at the wall, shook his head. “You’re asking the wrong person. My usual intersection with FG is on the commodities markets, and as a fashion statement most other people don’t notice.”
“Yeah, I know,” Lee muttered, pushing her chair back from the desk. “But seriously, you’re always going on about your connections at UCLA. Isn’t there someone there you could ask?”
Gelert sat down, looking thoughtful. “UC’s a little short on the harder sciences these days, except for astronomy and medicine. Most of the multidimensional physics specialists are up at Stanford or over at Brookhaven or the University of Chicago these days: the schools that have ‘history’ with rings or colliders seem to attract most of the people interested in gating work. I’ll see what I can find out in the morning.”
“Okay. How’re you doing over there?”
“Not too badly. Our guy’s investment portfolio shows some interesting preferences.”
“Oh?”
“Take a guess, Lee.”
“Fairy gold?”
“He’s bought a lot of contracts over the past few years,” Gelert said thoughtfully. “Not necessarily strange: it’s a standard commodities metal—better than most because the price per gram is so high and the market supply is steadier than most. Dil’Sorden would always sell again after a few months, make a small profit, nothing spectacular…Deal in what you know, I guess.”
“I suppose that makes sense…”
The commlink went off in the front office. Lee reached over to her desk. “Reh’Mechren and Enfield, good evening…”
Mikki’s face looked down at her from the commwall. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”
“No!” Lee and Gelert said in unison, then both laughed. “What have you got for us?” Lee said.
“Official business first,” Mikki said. “We had a breakthrough, and I thought you two should be the first to know. We tracked the gun back to the real owner. His name is Jok Castelain: he lives in Upper San Francisco, and he has multiple arrests and several convictions for armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon. Kind of an errand boy, and it looks like he was doing someone’s errand the night before last. At least one piece of clothing in his apartment matches at first assessment with some fibers we found yesterday in the doorway your assailant jumped out of. And at least one set of prints on the shotgun is his.”
“All right ,” Lee said softly.
“It gets better. He’s under arrest in San Fran. They caught up with him as he was heading for SF Intercontinual.”
Lee slumped back in her chair, grinning.
“So at least you have that much good news. San Fran are talking to LAPD right now: he’ll be down here for questioning in due course.”
“You guys are miracle workers,” Gelert said.
“Couldn’t have done much without you. So, as your reward…here we have the piece of resistance,” Mikki said.
An icon representing a file appeared on Lee’s desktop. In small clear letters, the “cover” of the file said, ANALYSIS OF INTERSPECIES HOMICIDE AND OTHER CRIMINAL MORTALITY IN THE SIX WORLDS, 19932003. “You should print this,” Mikki said, “and then destroy the file, and then probably burn the printout when you’re done with it. It’s going to take you a while to get through it, but I had a quick skim, and there are two things I want to
“Tall guy? Darkhaired?” Gelert said. “Blue eyes? Kind of a drawl—”
“I’d kill you,” Lee said, “but I’d have to explain it to Nuala and the pups afterward, and that would pain me.”
Gelert gave her a slightly penitent look. “All right, withdrawn. But as for this—” He stared at the wall, shook his head. “You’re asking the wrong person. My usual intersection with FG is on the commodities markets, and as a fashion statement most other people don’t notice.”
“Yeah, I know,” Lee muttered, pushing her chair back from the desk. “But seriously, you’re always going on about your connections at UCLA. Isn’t there someone there you could ask?”
Gelert sat down, looking thoughtful. “UC’s a little short on the harder sciences these days, except for astronomy and medicine. Most of the multidimensional physics specialists are up at Stanford or over at Brookhaven or the University of Chicago these days: the schools that have ‘history’ with rings or colliders seem to attract most of the people interested in gating work. I’ll see what I can find out in the morning.”
“Okay. How’re you doing over there?”
“Not too badly. Our guy’s investment portfolio shows some interesting preferences.”
“Oh?”
“Take a guess, Lee.”
“Fairy gold?”
“He’s bought a lot of contracts over the past few years,” Gelert said thoughtfully. “Not necessarily strange: it’s a standard commodities metal—better than most because the price per gram is so high and the market supply is steadier than most. Dil’Sorden would always sell again after a few months, make a small profit, nothing spectacular…Deal in what you know, I guess.”
“I suppose that makes sense…”
The commlink went off in the front office. Lee reached over to her desk. “Reh’Mechren and Enfield, good evening…”
Mikki’s face looked down at her from the commwall. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”
“No!” Lee and Gelert said in unison, then both laughed. “What have you got for us?” Lee said.
“Official business first,” Mikki said. “We had a breakthrough, and I thought you two should be the first to know. We tracked the gun back to the real owner. His name is Jok Castelain: he lives in Upper San Francisco, and he has multiple arrests and several convictions for armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon. Kind of an errand boy, and it looks like he was doing someone’s errand the night before last. At least one piece of clothing in his apartment matches at first assessment with some fibers we found yesterday in the doorway your assailant jumped out of. And at least one set of prints on the shotgun is his.”
“All right ,” Lee said softly.
“It gets better. He’s under arrest in San Fran. They caught up with him as he was heading for SF Intercontinual.”
Lee slumped back in her chair, grinning.
“So at least you have that much good news. San Fran are talking to LAPD right now: he’ll be down here for questioning in due course.”
“You guys are miracle workers,” Gelert said.
“Couldn’t have done much without you. So, as your reward…here we have the piece of resistance,” Mikki said.
An icon representing a file appeared on Lee’s desktop. In small clear letters, the “cover” of the file said, ANALYSIS OF INTERSPECIES HOMICIDE AND OTHER CRIMINAL MORTALITY IN THE SIX WORLDS, 19932003. “You should print this,” Mikki said, “and then destroy the file, and then probably burn the printout when you’re done with it. It’s going to take you a while to get through it, but I had a quick skim, and there are two things I want to
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