Nothing had happened. The bartender didn’t even shout at him to order or leave, not that the business was particularly good; the Borzoi was empty of anyone else but the staff. Still, what business likes loiterers? Not being forced to order or getting chased out told Austin he was on the right track. Then it hit him. He had to initiate contact, and he had been given the key.

“Can I get a nightcap?” Austin called to the bartender. The man’s bushy eyebrows rose slightly. He leaned over the bar and talked in hushed tones with the barmaid.

“You want anything else?” the bartender asked.

“Just a nightcap.” Austin kicked himself for not speaking up sooner. Borodin had given him a code word and he had not recognized it as such. He should have realized, if these were Manfred’s friends, they would require recognition signals. They wouldn’t know otherwise that he wasn’t bringing the authorities with him.

The barmaid went about her chores, disappeared into the back room, only to return with a tray of glasses a minute later. Another ten minutes passed and Austin half stood when a man bundled like a mummy against the night came in from the street, the gusty wind sneaking inside until the door slammed against the storm. The staff greeted him warmly, all gathering around to talk to him as if he were a long-lost relative, but Austin saw the barmaid cast a furtive glance over her shoulder in his direction. Whatever the newcomer said to her involved Austin.

He wished now that he had come armed. For all that, he wished he had worn battle armor. Finally giving in to his nervousness, Austin checked his watch and saw he had been in the Borzoi for almost twenty minutes. It was time to go. He had hoped Manfred might show up, or someone who could help him get in touch with his friend. Borodin’s recognition code hadn’t amounted to anything. Austin hadn’t even got a drink out of it.

As he came around the small table, the bartender barked, “We don’t close for another hour. Sit down, tovarich.” The man’s voice was gruff, but Austin heard no menace in it, so he sank down and put his hands on the table in front of him. Waiting became increasingly difficult.

Suddenly his eyes went wide and he shot to his feet.

“Manfred!”

The customer at the bar pushed away a heavy scarf from his face.

“Go on, advertise it to the world.” Manfred Leclerc laughed to take the sting out of his rebuke. “You need to learn restraint when it comes to espionage.”

“Spying? Is that what this is all about?”

Manfred seated himself beside Austin and leaned closer so he could speak in an almost inaudible whisper.

“I’m not a spy and I didn’t try to kill you, but you know that. Your father told you as much. The way you came tonight shows you probably ignored him when he told you not to get any more involved.”

“You’re my friend, Manfred. It looks like you need help—almost as much as I need answers.”

“I’m your friend forever, Austin, for all time,” Manfred said, reaching out. He pressed his hand into Austin’s arm. “I’m glad you didn’t swallow that line Elora put out about me trying to kill you.”

“There wouldn’t be any reason,” Austin said. “What happened? I’ve reached the point of believing even Borodin might have ulterior motives.”

“Dmitri?” Manfred laughed. “That’s rich. Dmitri is about the most transparent man I’ve ever seen. Everything is wide-open with him. He serves faithfully and well. Don’t ever mistrust him.”

“Who tried to kill me? And have you learned anything about Dale’s death?”

“Slow down,” Manfred said. He glanced back at the barmaid. She shook her head. “We’ve only got a few minutes before they find us.”

“Who?” Austin was genuinely perplexed.

“Someone with great power who might have forged an alliance off-world that we need to fight,” Manfred said.

“Elora?”

“Of course Elora,” Manfred said. “I thought you understood more of this. You’d better stand clear and let your father’s plans unwind.”

“I want to help. Did she kill Dale? Hanna? Are you saying she framed you? How?”

“That ’Mech was mine, but someone hijacked it,” Manfred said. “That’s why my fingerprints were all over it. I’d spent hours going over it with the techs.” He stared at Austin. “I wouldn’t have had the time away from observation if the FCL hadn’t been transferred and Tortorelli so intent on disbanding us. I was given pointless assignments and no one checked up on me.”

“That’s why my father was so intent on getting rid of the FCL? To give you access to the MBA ’Mechs?”

Manfred nodded. “If the man who hijacked the ’Mech was careful piloting it after replacing the access code cards, he might have only smudged my prints from a training mission I ran earlier that morning.”

“Whoever piloted it was experienced.”

“I’m not sure who the driver is, but I think I can identify him. Besides whipping the ’Mechs into shape, I’ve been busy nosing around. Getting evidence against him is something else, since he seems to change his name more often than he does his underwear. A real shadowy character. One of Elora’s henchmen is my guess.”

“But he knew how to pilot a ’Mech,” Austin protested.

“He might be a cashiered BattleMech pilot from off-world. One thing is for sure: he has no trouble killing.”

“What about Marta Kinsolving?” Austin asked. “How does she fit in?”

“You can trust her,” Manfred said. “We’ve come to work close together.” Austin’s expression prompted Manfred to continue. “I’m training the MBA’s pilots, and yes, your father knows. He doesn’t approve of such dangerous equipment being built, but I’m keeping its use in check. I assure you, Austin, we’re all trying to keep Mirach from boiling over into civil war.”

Austin thought about what Manfred had said. He knew he should obey his father’s wishes—and take Manfred’s advice—but he feared that what he thought was so important might be ignored.

“Dale?” Austin asked, afraid of the answer. “Did Elora have him killed?”

“I don’t know,” Manfred said, “but I’ll wager at any odds you want to give that she ordered a henchman to drive the car through the sidewalk café and kill Hanna. The car might have been aiming for Dale, too. When it missed, he was killed during the training exercise. If I’m right about Elora’s henchman being militarily trained off-world, that could explain how he blended in so easily to replace the marker missiles with live rounds.”

“What did Hanna tell my father that got her killed?” Austin asked. “She must have told Dale, and that got him killed. Elora probably thinks I know it, too. She’ll keep sending her goons after me and I don’t really know a thing.”

“You deserve to know,” Manfred said, “but I promised your father to keep you out of the loop. It’s for your own good. Borodin should never have given you the code word to reach me, either.”

“He’s a good man,” Austin said. “And he knows I won’t quit. You do, too.”

“I’ve got to speak to your father. Can you arrange it? I tried reaching him through our usual channels but found that Elora was tapping them. She’s becoming more aggressive in her spying.”

“Usual channels?” asked Austin. “I don’t understand.”

Before Manfred could answer, the barmaid reached for a pitcher of beer, let out a yelp, and then spun about, the beer arcing away from her body and spewing into the face of two men entering the Borzoi Tavern.

“MPs! They must have followed you,” rasped Manfred. “Get out the back way. They might be after you, too.”

“We need to stay in touch,” Austin said. The barmaid continued her wild spin and smashed the glass pitcher into the head of the leading military policeman. He staggered into the second MP, but both were shoved out of the way as three more pushed their way inside. No matter how the barmaid tried to slow the newcomers, they evaded her and went directly for the rear of the tavern.