Dragonback 05 Dragon and Judge Read Free Page B

transmission cut off."
    Alison worked her way to the nearest wall, pausing there to crane
her neck over the crowd. No Jack, but also no one who looked like they
might be a Malison Ring mercenary. Unless they'd just grabbed Jack and
run.
    No. For some reason, they still seemed to want Virgil Morgan. They
wouldn't just run off with Jack without at least hanging around long
enough to leave a ransom demand.
    "It sounded to me like there was something there at the end about
going to the bank," she said.
    "Jack said he needed to go to the bank," Uncle Virge corrected.
"No one said they were actually going there."
    "Maybe not, but it's as good a place to start as any," Alison
said. Rejoining the crowd, she continued inward. She reached the center
to find an entire half circle dedicated to ground and air taxis.
Working her way to the first vehicle in line, she got in.
    "To?" a long-faced Golvin asked, his flat nose snuffling at the
air between them like a piece of paper flapping in a stiff breeze.
    "Bank of Lloffle," she told him.
    His nose snuffled another moment, and then he turned back to the
wheel and pulled out into the drive. Alison leaned back, trying to look
all directions.
    Ten minutes later the driver pulled up in front of the bank. Jack,
unfortunately, was nowhere in sight. "Now what?" Uncle Virge asked as
Alison climbed the steep steps toward the front door.
    "I'm going in," she told him. "They could easily have gotten here
ahead of me. If not—" She shrugged. "I might as well at least clear out
the box."
    "With Jack holding the only key?" Uncle Virge retorted. "That'll
be a neat trick."
    "Not really," Alison said, smiling despite the seriousness of the
situation. If he only knew. "It's Box 433, right?"
    "Right," Uncle Virge said suspiciously. "What are you—?"
    "I'm shutting down," Alison said. "Stay cool, okay?"
    "Alison—"
    She tapped the comm clip, cutting off his protest, and went inside.
    The bank interior was small and modestly decorated, as befit a
small operation on a world most of the Orion Arm's society and culture
had long since left behind. Two Compfrins were working the counter, and
a bulky Trin-trang was seated at a desk by the doorway leading into the
back room. "May we assist?" one of the Compfrins asked.
    "I need to get into Box 433," Alison said, walking toward the
Trin-trang at the desk. "The name of record is Virgil Morgan."
    The Trin-trang typed for a moment on his keyboard, then peered at
his display. "Yes," he confirmed, opening a drawer and pulling out a
shiny gold-metal electronic key. "You have the key?"
    "Of course," Alison said, digging her right hand into her pocket
for her collection of small keys. Picking by touch the one she knew
looked the most like the Trin-trang's, she pulled it out and held it
up. "Right here," she said, keeping her hand moving so that he couldn't
quite get a clear look at the key. "I'm in rather a hurry," she added,
lowering her hand to her side.
    The Trin-trang's shoulders hunched in the equivalent of a frown,
but without a word he stood up and gestured toward the doorway. "Come."
    He led the way into the back room and the vault beyond it. Keeping
her left hand out of his view, Alison squeezed her thumb against the
base of her left forefinger.
    And the plastic lockpick surgically implanted beneath the
fingernail silently slid out into ready position.
    Recessed into the side of the vault were three rows of private
lockboxes. "Four thirty-three," the Trin-trang said, pointing a thick
finger at one of them as he went to the far end of the row and inserted
his key into the master lock at the end. "At your convenience."
    Alison stepped to the indicated box, turning a little to put her
shoulder between the Trin-trang and the lockbox. Using both hands as if
she was having trouble inserting the key, she slid the lockpick into
the keyhole. The semifluid plastic did its magic, flowing up against
the markpins and triggering the proper transponder connections, and
with a twist