The Agent Gambit Read Online Free PDF Page B

the spaceport, engines running, memories wiped. She smiled-he hadn't told her where he'd sent them-and hit REMOVE. The paper scrolled across the screen, through Obits and into Classified, as she continued with breakfast.
    Juntavas work.
    It was unfortunate that anyone had connected the incident to the Juntavas. If she'd been found dead by herself, it would just have been an unsolved murder. Something was going to have to be done about her not being found dead in the near future.
    The tough guy seemed to think he had the pat answer for that. A quick and total overhaul, courtesy of Liad: new papers, new name, new face, new life. Good-bye Miri Robertson. Hello-well, did it matter?
    Somehow, she admitted to herself, it does. She finished her coffee, leaned to place the cup on the table, and froze, eyes snagging on a familiar phrase.

    WANTED: CARGO MASTER. Expd only, bckgrd with exotic handcrafts, perfumes, liqueurs, xenonarcotics. Apply Officer of the Day, Free Trader Salene. No xenophobes, no narcoholics, no politicians. Bring papers. All without papers stay home.

    SHE WAS STILL staring at the screen when Val Con entered the kitchen a full two minutes later.
    "Good morning," he told her, moving to the chef panel and making a selection.
    Miri leaned back in the chair, eyes on the screen. "Hey, you. Tough Guy."
    He came to her elbow. Without looking up, she waved her hand at the ad. Arm brushing hers, he bent forward to see, exhaling softly as he straightened, his breath shivering the gossamer hairs at her temple. He sat on the edge of the table and took a sip of milk, swinging one leg carelessly off the floor. She noted that the pockets of his coverall were flat. Gunless.
    He raised an eyebrow.
    She hit the table with her fist, clattering the empty coffee cup, and glared up at him.
    "Who are you? The question was gritted out against clenched teeth. She felt her heart pounding and forced herself to relax back into the chair.
    He drank some milk, his eyes steady on her face. "My name is Val Con yos'Phelium, Second Speaker for Clan Korval. I work as an agent of change. A spy."
    She pointed at the screen. "And that?"
    He shrugged. "A tissue of lies tears much too easily. There must be meat and bone beneath." He paused to sip his milk. "I came to this world as Cargo Master on Salene. My papers said I was Connor Phillips, citizen of Kiang. When Salene took orbit, Connor Phillips had an argument with the Chief Petty Officer and as a result of this sudden feud tendered his resignation, effective off-loading of all local cargo. In the meantime, for the sake of ship's morale, he rented this place while he searched for a more convivial berth. And so we have this comfortable refuge in a time of stress." He offered her a smile. "Not too bad a sort, Master Phillips."
    She closed her eyes. Every time you get the world by the tail, she thought, you gotta remember there's teeth on the other end.
    "Where'd a spy learn to play the 'chora like that?"
    His brows twitched together in surprise, and he answered carefully. "My kinswoman, Anne Davis, taught me. It gave her joy to see that I had the talent, when none of her own children did."
    "Your kinswoman." She wasn't sure she'd meant it as a question, but he answered it.
    "Yes. My-is it aunt? The wife of my father's brother?"
    "Aunt," she agreed, puzzled by this lapse in his smooth command of Terran.
    "More," he said thoughtfully. "She was my-foster-mother. After my mother died I went into her home, was raised with her children."
    "Is this any more-or less-real than Connor Phillips?" she demanded. "Do you really know who you are?"
    He looked at her closely. "If you are asking if I'm insane, which of the answers I may give will comfort you more? I know who I am, and I have told you. Even when I am on assignment, I know who I really am."
    "Do you? That's comforting." She said it without conviction, aware that she was tensing up again.
    "Have you a problem, Miri Robertson?"
    "Yeah. I do. The problem is