"Karen Haber - On the Tip of a Cat's Tongue" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haber Karen)

In fact, until last cycle, I would have sworn it was good." Tears glittered in
her eyes.
"Surely the Colonel doesn't want to hurt you."
"Of course not. That's why you're here."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"I want you to investigate Samule Baule. He's the dealer who sold it to
us. His home base is on the smallest moon of Ilona, although he keeps a
residence here on Mantuchika. I want you to chart the life of Bettyl's Egg
from the moment it came into Baule's hands until it entered the Westphal
collection nine cycles ago."
Seaton gazed frankly at the curator. "Isn't this kind of outside my
area of expertise? I handle espionage, not art fraud."
"But you are a detective, yes? Accustomed to investigating situations
where criminal activity is suspected?"
"Of course."
"Good. This qualifies as such. I would much prefer to have someone
outside of the art world handle this. Less chance of idle gossip that way. We
have a week, Mr. Seaton, before I must notify the publisher."
"Why not go directly to the dealer? If he's reputable..."
"I would prefer an independent -- and private -- investigation
before I approach Mr. Baule."
"All right." Hell, Seaton thought. Why not? Might be interesting. "I
require partial payment up front."
"I'm aware of your fee structure."
Ms. Val slid an envelope across the polished desktop toward him. Seaton
put it in his pocket. He didn't think he should count the credit chips in
front of the curator.
"A week. Sebastian will show you out."
The cat jumped down from his perch and, without a backward glance,
walked jauntily toward the door.
Seaton nodded and followed. At the door he paused. What was proper
etiquette here? "Good night, Ms. Val. And Sebastian."
"Good night."
Was the cat grinning at him as the door closed?
****
A paper trail. Seaton stared sourly at the screen. Four days and all he had to
show for his efforts was a paper trail. Seaton sighed and pressed the off
switch.
It hadn't been difficult to find traces of Baule in the IASA records.
Seaton still had plenty of friends in the firm and knew he could always do




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some looking around on the graveyard shift.
Traces of Baule, yes. There was permit after permit: the man kept the
space lanes humming with his import business. But Seaton had been looking for
days and he couldn't find one thing to incriminate him. Not one. The dealer
was clean or careful, or -- most likely -- both.