"Jane Lindskold - Endpoint Insurance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lindskold Jane)

iced, and cool to drink.
Seizing a seat on a plastic crate at a table that had begun life as a cable spool, I
mulled over what to do next. Overall, everything was as innocent as could be. The
vendors were Batherite refugees mixed with a few entrepreneurs from Gilbert City
come to take advantage of the crowds. Most of their wares were just what youтАЩd
expect.
It had been among the shoppers, not the vendors, that IтАЩd caught a glimpse of
something that didnтАЩt fit the setting-a few men and women whose body language
didnтАЩt match the pervading mood of exhaustion and pathetic hope. They were too
confident, too eager to be interested in the sort of rag-trade, used goods, and
craftwork ostensibly being sold in this marketplace.
After some cautious observation I thought I even recognized a couple of these
shoppers. In the parlance of the underworld, we called them тАЬshuttlersтАЭ because they
made their money buying goods of dubious legality at low prices and reselling them
with the registration stamps and such mysteriously in place.
Essentially, shuttlers were high-tech fences with operations that often spanned
multiple star systems. As such, they were useful to both smugglers and planet-based
fences. Since shuttlers could often locate what more usual channels could not, some
even had a semi-legitimate status. My most recent contact with one had involved a
per-fectly legal request on the part of a well-known artist for an exotic hallucinogen.
Of course, most shuttlers were scum, buying low, selling high-often to the very
people from whom the goods had been stolen in the first place. I didnтАЩt doubt that
some shuttler had made a good profit returning Orion Lines their тАЬmisplacedтАЭ
wine-and perhaps more importantly, the expensive stabilizing crates.
Licking the last of the curry-seasoned oil off my fingers, I decided to wander until I
spotted one of the shuttlers, then follow him or her and see with whom my mark did
business. Despite my aching feet, I set off in an optimistic mood. Three days later, I
was less cheerful.
Perhaps the last of the black market goods had been sold the very morning I spotted
the shuttlers in the market. Perhaps that was why enough shuttlers had been present
for me to pick them out of the crowd. For whatever reason, the Bathtub market had
descended into mundanity. I did find a copy of a hard-to-locate holo-documentary
about one of my favorite musical performers, but as far as anything that would lead
me to the pirates, I came up as cold as the interstellar void.
Spike was due back the next day and I wasnтАЩt looking forward to telling him I had
nothing to offer, so I put in one more tour.
Now, I hadnтАЩt been such a rube as to roam around the market day after day without
any disguise at all. The first day IтАЩd gone pretty much as myself. It was reasonable
that IтАЩd want to look around a new part of town. The next several days IтАЩd gone
dressed in the general style of a system local, but as a different type of person each
time. Usually, IтАЩd changed my disguise more than once in a day.
It isnтАЩt hard to seem what you arenтАЩt-especially when youтАЩre small and slight to start
with. Built-up shoes and padding make you seem larger. Very active body language
makes you seem younger. Add in basic changes in hair or eye color or manner of
dress and youтАЩre set, especially in a crowd where no one person is in your company
for too long. Really, the only thing that gave me trouble were my aching feet,
especially when I wore built-up shoes.
For my last tour before SpikeтАЩs return, I went as myself. During earlier jaunts, IтАЩd
noticed a couple of gambling parlors and figured that IтАЩd sit in on a poker game or
two when my feet got too tired for wandering through the market. Since my skill at