Page 33 of Escape Velocity

Chapter Eight

Max led Amber along the down-under corridor, still considering his options. The shop owner—Ilina—had seen the two hang-arounds grab Amber and whisk her away. But no one else had been in the store. Perhaps the woman was the only one who had taken notice.

“I didn’t see what happened after they grabbed you,” he said over his shoulder.

“Yes, the one with the pipe knocked you out.”

“Not for long. What about the people outside the shop? Did they see you were in bad trouble?”

“Maybe. But I think they were determined to mind their own business.”

“Yeah.”

Was anyone else looking for Amber on the station? He hoped not, but he still thought their best bet was to stay out of sight as long as possible and leave as quickly as they could.

He kept going along the corridor until he came to a set of stairs that led upward—not the ones he’d taken down.

Cautiously, he opened the door. When he saw the stairwell was empty, he led Amber upward. Since he’d never been down here before, he didn’t know where they would emerge. He was hoping they’d be close to the shuttle bay where he’d docked the Golden Fleece. But they came up into the great hall not far away from the dress shop. As they stood at the edge of the crowded marketplace, Amber reached for his hand and held tightly. He squeezed back, sure that she was seeing this place in a different light than when they’d first arrived. Maybe coming here had been a fun new experience. Now tension wafted off her as she scanned the crowd.

“Try to act normal,” he said.

“If I can.”

He wasn’t feeling so normal himself as he took in the balconies and the throng on the main floor, wondering if they were going to encounter another pair of lowlifes on the lookout for them. Or what if someone had already discovered the bodies and had alerted the authorities?

He cursed under his breath when he wondered if he’d outsmarted himself. He and Amber were wearing clothes from the boxes in the storage room—a dead giveaway that’s they been in that room if they were caught in the station.

But as far as Max could tell, nobody seemed to be paying them any attention except for occasional glances—probably at their odd appearance.

Looking like a man headed for a shop or bar, he kept up a steady pace as they wove their way through the stalls—except when he had to stop and orient himself. He took as direct a route as possible, avoiding eye contact but watchful in case someone looked like a threat. To his relief, they finally reached the corridor leading to docking bay twenty-five. He was about to enter, then realized that he’d better have a reason for coming to the station—besides charging his fuel cells. The only other transaction he’d made had been with Harry, and he’d paid in cash—to keep that bit of business off the books.

“Hold up a minute,” he said to Amber, stopping in front of a display of exotic teas. He made a hasty purchase of some leaves, then decided that wasn’t reason enough to come here—unless he was a tea freak. Across the aisle was a woman with antique jewelry.

She saw him eying her display and said, “I have pieces from Old Earth.”

“I’m afraid that’s a little rich for me,” he said.

“I have Farlian jewelry from the prerevolutionary period. The artist Colmar was popular with the nobility then. I have some of his best work here.” She held out a tray.

Max knew nothing about the artist, but a bracelet with an intricate design caught his eye.

Picking it up, he turned it in his hands, then held it out to Amber. “Do you like it?”

She looked shell-shocked, as if she couldn’t believe they had stopped to look at jewelry when they had just left two dead men in a storage room.

“It’s beautiful.”

He undid the clasp, fastened it onto her wrist. “How much?” he asked the woman.

“For you, a thousand credits.”

“Still too much.”

“Eight hundred.”

“Six fifty.”

She made a face but accepted the offer. After paying electronically, he ushered Amber into the hallway leading to the bay.

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