"Decommissioned and sold for scrap," I said. "Years ago."
"But not scrapped. Rusted in a scrapyard for five years. Then I bought her—beefed up her shielding—loaded her and sank her in ten fathoms of water in Cartwright Bay."
"That," Stenn said, "is the information we need."
Arena whirled. Stenn was still sitting on the floor. He had a palm gun in his hand, and it was pointed at the monogram on Arena's silk shirt.
"A cross," Arena said. "A lousy cross...."
"Move back, Arena." Stenn got to his feet, eyes on Arena.
"Where'd you have the stinger stashed?"
"In my hand. Stop there."
Stenn moved over to me. Eyes on Arena, he reached for the twisted ends of wire, started loosening them.