The Alcean spymaster frowned as he stared at the ground. Bork knew Zachary well enough not to interrupt. He waited patiently for Zack to contemplate the next move.
“He must have been drunk to share that information with Cobb,” Zachary eventually said. “Stealing from the paymaster earns a very public hanging in the Federation.”
“He is very drunk,” admitted Bork, “and very scared, but you taught Cobb and me well. The man holds a slim hope that Cobb can come up with a plan to save his neck.”
“How much does he need?” asked Zack.
“Five thousand.”
Zack whistled softly. “Our thief has expensive habits. That is actually a plus. It shows that he has been living on the edge for some time without getting caught. He must be fairly good at hiding his emotions. Take me to him.”
Bork nodded and led the sergeant through the streets of the city until they came to the Journey’s Rest Inn, a modest inn for the budget conscious traveler. Zachary had rented rooms there for his military persona, while he also had rooms at the Greystone Inn for his Lord Zachary persona. Bork led the spymaster up the rear stairs and knocked softly on the door to Cobb’s room. Cobb immediately opened the door and admitted his two confederates.
Sitting on the couch was a rumpled sergeant wearing the patch of the 16th Corps. He rose unsteadily as the two men entered the room, fear etched into his face. Zachary smiled at the man and crossed the room. He sat in a chair facing the couch and waved for the man to sit down.
“I understand that you have a problem,” opened Zachary. “I might be able to help you, but my help doesn’t come without conditions.”
The Spinoan sergeant swayed unsteadily and sort of fell into a sitting position on the couch, his head turning from side to side trying his best to focus on the new arrivals.
“I will not deal with a drunk,” scowled Zachary. “Get this man sobered up.”