“I’m here all afternoon, Northern California time, but please do get the Legate to call me back soon.  Have a good day.” She broke the connection.  Her next call was to the office of the Secretary for Foreign Relations, but that conversation was quite short.

Soon enough, the chime on her communicator rang. She opened the connection. Bronkowski’s not-smiling face appeared on the vid screen.

“Why are you detaining a member of the Stellar Republic’s diplomatic staff?” He shouted.

“Actually, I was attempting to determine if he is a member of your staff,” Tara answered, her voice is smooth as warm milk. “Whoever this person is, he forgot to carry his passport or any other identification with him.  He was found in the presence of a substantial amount of illegal technical equipment, illegal under our treaty with you, not under Union law.  He denies that the equipment is his.  Of course, he would be neither the first nor probably the last very junior member of some embassy’s staff who is subject to the misimpression that he is a latter-day Jane Note, and has gotten himself involved in water is far deeper than his extremely shallow depth.”

“I can confirm,” Bronkowski said, “that the person you are holding detained in your parking lot is indeed a member of my staff.”

Tara wondered how Bronkowski could possibly know where his staffer was standing. Either Pierre was wired for sound, or there was someone watching from a distance.

“In that case,” Tara announced, “if someone from your embassy will show up with valid identification in an Embassy vehicle, we will be happy to turn the miscreant over to you. I imagine our Foreign Relations Office may have other words to say.. We are a private company, and don’t deal with that sort of issue.   Meanwhile, as he is probably on your clock cycle, I’ll see that he’s fed a good dinner.”

“That’s most kind of you,” Bronkowski said. “Would a pickup in two hours be workable?”

“Of course. Have a good day.”  She broke the connection and tapped in another number.