Turn 7 of 9

Ask Vasek who his client is, and why they bought the debt at a discount

Vasek does not release the manifest. His fingers hold the edge of the folded paper, and for a moment the two of you are connected by it — a thin sheet of parchment that suddenly feels like a leash. His expression remains pleasant, but his eyes have gone careful, the way a man's eyes go when he is deciding how much truth serves him better than a lie.

"My client is a private investor," he says. "I am not at liberty to disclose their identity without authorisation, which I do not currently have. This is standard practice in debt acquisition, as I'm sure you know."

"I know it's standard practice for people who don't want to be found," you say. "You bought the bond at a discount. That means the original issuer wanted rid of it. Why?"

Vasek's thumb moves against the manifest, a small, unconscious gesture. He is thinking. Behind him, Ferran shifts her weight, and you catch the way her eyes move between the two of you — not watching the conversation so much as watching the balance of it, the way a sailor watches the trim of a sail.

"The original issuer was a brokerage called Hallek & Sons," Vasek says, after a pause that lasts just long enough to be deliberate. "They held the berth and fuel debts as a bundle. When the customs bond was added, the total exceeded their risk threshold. They sold at a discount because they wanted the exposure off their books before consolidation. My client acquired it as an investment." He pauses.

"The cargo contract is the return on that investment. It is not complicated."

"It's not complicated because you built it that way," Ferran says. Her voice is quiet, but it carries the weight of someone who has been standing on this quay for an hour and has already seen the shape of the trap.

"The tin was in bonded storage before your client bought the debt. You came here with a manifest already drawn up. This isn't a rescue, Vasek — it's a delivery service with a noose at the end of it."

Vasek finally releases the manifest. You take it, unfold it. The paper is crisp, freshly printed, and it lists forty-two crates of refined tin ingots, bonded warehouse seven, second level, consigned to one Edren Vasek as factor. The delivery destination is Aelver's Reach. The freight payment is listed as twelve hundred marks — enough to clear the debt with a hundred to spare. It is, on paper, a fair contract. That is exactly what worries you, because fair contracts drawn up by creditors in a hurry are never fair.