It was late at night when Garak opened the door that second time, wearing only a long black cloak. He didn't have time for feigned pleasantries; Ba'el immediately pushed him aside and stormed inside, followed closely by Saavik.
"You gave us nothing, Garak," the Vulcan harshly said as she walked pass him, her crimson robes flowing, and he was shocked at the sudden violence of the Federation officers.
The two of them were striding away from him. Garak rushed to shut the door and followed them. From behind, he shouted back, "I gave you—"
"Another dead scientist," Ba'el cut him off.
That revelation stopped Garak in his tracks, but he promptly recovered and none of his not so welcomed visitors noticed.
"He obviously told us nothing, Garak," Saavik turned her head slightly to look at him in the eye, but she didn't slow her pace. "And neither did his apartment."
They came inside the same room where they had met before, and Saavik whirled on her heel sharply to face him. They were just inches apart.
"You made us waste precious time." Garak hardly knew the Federation admiral, but he had never expected her voice to sound so cold. "Did you enjoy playing games with us?"
While she was speaking, her aide had moved so she now stayed behind him. The Klingon's clothes could easily conceal weapons, and he knew very well the species' violent tendencies. Garak knew the knife on her boot was not her only weapon, and to her natural strenght, he should consider that she was probably well trained in hand-to-hand combat. Garak felt threatened and chastised himself for being caught in such a weak position; he was too experienced for that. Surely, Vulcans couldn't approve on assassination, though. Then, his memory vividly reminded him that the Federation admiral, as well as her aide, was actually half-Romulan; for the first time, he wondered how Romulan she really was.
He didn't let fear appear in his eyes, of course, and he willed himself to smile again. "I always love playing games, Admiral." Garak repositioned himself so he could still watch Ba'el; he was not about to give his back to her, and much less when he heard her growl at his words.
Garak had expected a reply, however, none came. Saavik just kept drilling her intense gaze on his; Ba'el also glared at him. He had time to think, and his mind insisted on the new information: Relnak was already dead. Many scenarios came to him. Surprisingly, he found himself blurting out a truth.
"I hate losing them, though," he dropped his mocking smirk and let a determined look took its place. It wasn't a very dangerous confession.
He tried to get away from the two officers, but they held their ground and continued blocking him. I'm trapped in my own house. He inwardly laughed at the irony of the situation, but to them, he remained serious.
"So I gave you nothing, you say," he paused; he was getting calmer in spite of his predicament. "I gave you Reltan. You are giving me nothing." His finger raised to stress his point.
"So Reltan is dead. Why?" He turned to look at Ba'el and a thin smile appeared in his lips. "Did you kill him after he told you everything he knew, Lieutenant?"
Shock registered in the young woman's face and she bared her teeth. Garak noticed her reaction before quickly shifting his gaze towards the higher ranking officer. "And now you accuse me of giving you a false clue. Is that your plan for not disclosing to me what you learnt from him?" Garak directed a cold smile at her.
However, he failed to read any reaction from Saavik. Vulcans masked their thoughts and feelings too well. He went forward. "Very clever, but, you see, it isn't working with me." He wondered how far the Federation officers were willing to go; he realized he was angry and was not about to let them go without knowing what they had found out. There was no reason for not making the statement now. "I want the truth, Admiral Saavik, and if Reltan is dead you would better say how, when, where and why."
Ba'el snorted. "Shouldn't you be the one answering that?" She asked in a barely controled voice.
Again, Saavik took him off-guard. She just retreated to calmly sat down at the forgotten table. Saavik's flat and sincere answer surprised both of them. "I never understood games." Suddenly, Garak found himself free. Ba'el was still menacingly close to him, transpirating hard due more probably to the heat than to the tension of the moment, but she didn't stop him from slowly nearing the Admiral.
Saavik had been probing the former spy's eyes the moment they went in. Garak was an expert in hiding his true feelings and intentions, but Vulcans were naturally good at spotting others' lack of sincerity, and Saavik's harsh childhood had also forcibly trained her to read other people's unconscious gestures that gave them away; survival depended on her ability to anticipate her opponent. During her lifetime, she had honed that talent to apply it to other species. She had to admit now that, against the odds, Garak was telling the truth. He had given them what he considered a good clue and now was seriously thinking they were the ones trying to fool him. Inwardly, Saavik was dryly amused. Now seated at the oval table, she contemplated her new course of action.
"You didn't lie to me when you told me to look for Reltan," she finally admitted.
Garak shook his head. The grin that so naturally came to his lips appeared again. "Oh, believe, Admiral, I lie very often." Her eyes, however, demanded a serious response, and he also conceded, "But I didn't lie to you about that." He reflected aloud, "So you really found nothing," he sighed. "How disappointing."
And suddenly, at that odd moment, Saavik had a shocking revelation. Garak had always been an irritating man to her. She tried hard to suppress the annoyance she felt, and she always succeeded, but she failed to find a rational explanation to her strong reaction. Now she knew why: there was none. She never approved of his way of life, and surely that distrust didn't help much, but the man had never wronged her or the Federation, for that matter; quite the opposite, he had served them well. But still that smirk unnerved her. A lot. Saavik contemplated the Cardassian now in a new light. She had been terribly emotional, she rebuked herself. For Garak's smile had only bothered her because it reminded her of another's. Another well dressed, not very honest man who had done her no wrong, but that she still had distrusted and despised. Archenar.
"Reltan is dead," he was musing, as he walked quietly around the room wrapped in his black robe.
"He died very conveniently from a heart attack," Ba'el supplied. She had relaxed a bit since Saavik didn't seem interested in confronting Garak anymore, but she still watched him closely, ready to strike.
Surely, Ba'el distrusted Garak as much as she had always done; however, Saavik, now she had solved her inner mystery and outdone the illogic association her mind had created, found herself completely focused, and her animosity disappeared. Archenar! She laughed at herself, before centering her attention again in the matter at hand. For the first time, when she gazed the Cardassian, she saw only him.
"I really want to find that Romulan Admiral, Garak," Saavik told him. "You must know more."
Garak chuckled. "There are no more names to offer, Admiral." He came closer and tapped the stone table to an unknown tune that apparently ran only in his head. "I retired, you know?" he said leaning forward her. "You can't expect me to know everything happening around Cardassia Prime."
From behind, Ba'el spoke up again. "Spies never retire."
The Cardassian never ceased his trumping, but turned his head lightly to face the younger Klingon officer, grinning brightly. "Oh, believe me, I have retired many times."
Saavik suppressed a sigh. "You know something you aren't telling us."
"I know a lot of 'somethings!" Garak answered lightly, "but if you want me to share all with you, I'd better open another bottle of juice and prepare some food, because this is going to take days." He finally interrupted his tapping. "Of course," he inclined his head to the side before continuing, "none of them has anything to do with your missing Romulan." He paused; he looked intently at her dark eyes. "About that, I know nothing more," he sentenced.
And Saavik knew he was lying. She also knew she could not press him any further, though. He would not willingly give her anything else, forcing him was never an option and she certainly could not think of a way to circle him around. She looked up to Ba'el; she didn't know what more to do either.
Saavik resigned herself and stood up. "Then, I will not delay you further. I assume you would like to return to bed."
"Yes," he answered as he accompanied her, followed as always by Ba'el, towards the door, "and you would do well in resting too. Even Vulcans have to sleep, don't they?"
Saavik didn't reply. She continued walking as she contemplated the variety of paintings that decorated the corridors; Cardassians had always been known for their fondness of art. One of them caught her eye slightly longer than the others; it wasn't exceptionally good, but she had recognized the signature: Ziyal.
Garak noted. To her surprise, he stopped and looked at the big abstract picture. "Do you find it beautiful?" he asked, and his voice grew soft. Saavik doubted the answer. However, he didn't seem to mind. "It was painted by Ziyal. She was the only Cardassian company I had during my time in Deep Space Nine." Saavik wondered if the sleep deprivation was affecting him, because the man seemed to be drifting to personal issues with unexpected sincerity. In a quick glance, she assessed Ba'el was as puzzled as she was. Garak, however, was still speaking, "Anyone is good company when you are so alone."
Sleep deprivation ought to be affecting her too, since suddenly old memories assaulted her: she had really been completely alone too. And realized the irony of Ziyal been called a Cardassian; she had been an hybrid, just like herself, and Ba'el, and probably she had felt as comfortable with the Cardassian label as she had with the Romulan one. Reflecting about that, she thanked Garak would never have such a thought and make such comparisons.
"Tell me, Admiral, does Vulcan ever really feel like home?"
The shocking question came through her mind like a photon torpedo. She fought hard to not show any reaction. Is he reading my mind? And why is he asking me that? For a second, she thought he was taunting her, but his voice was tender, his smile bleak, and there was something in his eyes that spoke of pain.
She answered sincerely, "Yes, it does."
His smile dropped; something crossed his eyes. Disappointment? And he suddenly shut down. "Oh, sorry. It's really late. You'd better go."
"Of course," came Ba'el's hash reply. Saavik just noticed she had a worried look that hardly eased when she heard Garak's dismissal words.
"Thanks for your help and your hospitality, Garak," Saavik said as farewell.
"You are welcome," he replied, "I would wish you luck, but I don't believe in that." And the two Federation officers soon found themselves alone in the dark streets.