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inside.
Six phials with biohazard warning labels clearly displayed. He shut
it at once and pushed it away from him.
    “What the hell
is he playing at? That sonofabitch, sending something like that to
my house!”
    They argued
about it while their coffees went cold. Brie wanted Blake to take
it in to the police. Blake was a police officer, after all. That
was the right thing to do. Whatever was in that package could be
really dangerous. Blake couldn't help agreeing with her, but he
owed Rik, and he didn't want to do anything that would get his old
friend into trouble.
    “Look, just
leave it to me,” Blake said in the end. “I'll get it sorted.
OK?”
    They were both already late for work, so
it was OK.
    Blake switched
his cogplus to phone mode and called Rik as soon as he got out the
house and into his car. The network said there was no such netID.
He argued with it for a while, discovering that Rik's netID had
been disconnected just a few hours ago, in London, England.
Glancing at the package on the seat beside him, Blake called Rik's
wives in Heinlein, hoping Brie wouldn't notice the long-distance
call to the Moon on the service bill.
    “Carlotta
Sylver 3 Drew, how can I help you?”
    The image in
the dashboard display was of a young woman with wild, multicoloured
hair and animated face paint that was sliding through various
autumn hues. The effect, all the rage off-world, was faintly
ridiculous to Blake's eyes – like the dumb-ass family names these
spacers adopted – but there was no denying that the woman was a
beauty.
    “Hi, I'm a
friend of Rik's and I'm trying to–”
    “Rik! That
worthless, knuckle-dragging piece of space junk! If he ever shows
his vacced-out face around here again, I'm gonna–”
    “Rik? Did you
say Rik? Is that you, honey?” Another face appeared in the display,
similarly made up and similarly beautiful. The other Drew sister,
Blake assumed, and Rik's other wife. “Neffy's pining for you,
sweetie. Hey! That's not Rik! Who's this guy?”
    “It's OK,
Nephele, I'm dealing with it,” Carlotta said as she nudged her
sister out of the way. “Look, mister, if he owes you money, get in
line. If you want to shoot the bum, take a ticket. Otherwise, it's
nothing to do with us any more.”
    “But I
just–”
    The line went
dead. Blake stared at the empty display in stunned silence, then
gave a snort of amazement. Whatever had inspired Rik to get
involved with those two – and the beautiful faces and glimpses of
deep cleavage certainly provided clues – Blake could understand why
his friend would want to be a long, long way away. They sure
weren't anything like Maria!
    Blake had
known Maria back in the old days, when Rik had been on the force
and they'd all lived in the same neighbourhood. He'd always liked
her. Hell, what was not to like? She was gorgeous, in a
long-limbed, willowy kind of way. She was funny. She was smart. And
she loved Rik to pieces. Loved him too much, maybe. Let herself
hang on too long to a man hell bent on throwing away every good
thing in his life, including her. Rik broke that woman's heart over
and over until she just couldn't stand it any more, packed up,
moved east and filed for divorce. And who could blame her?
    That's when
Rik really went to pieces. Within a month of Maria leaving, Rik had
his big row with the Captain and was out on his ear, snooping after
cheating husbands for a living. One of the best cops Blake had ever
known, too. One of the best friends. And now what was going on with
Rik? He was back on Earth – in Europe for Chrissake! – and hiding
out, else why kill his ID?
    The thought
that his friend was in trouble gnawed at him. He owed a lot to Rik.
He owed him his life. If Rik hadn't had his back, that day in
Potrero... Brie didn’t understand that kind of debt.
    But what could
he do? He should hang on to the package and wait for Rik to get in
touch. He looked at the silver box on the seat beside him. This was
serious shit. Biohazard could mean