CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Beloi building wasn’t the tallest one in the Badlands, but it was the tallest in this particular nine-block neighborhood square. The height was useful, but even more so were the five shack-like structures that dotted the flat gray slate, ostensibly containing a pair of water tanks, elevator machinery and access to stairs, antenna clusters for the residents’ use, and even a compact solar power collector. Since most buildings I’d seen across the Spiral managed to do without all of those except the elevator housing, my guess was that the others were mostly there to provide cover for activities that might be shady or nefarious by even Badlands’ standards.
Nikki and I lugged our gear up the stairs and laid it out in the visual shadow of the elevator housing. “Okay,” I said, running my eyes over everything. “You and Franck’s gun at peace with each other?”
“If you mean am I ready, yes,” she said, peering down the barrel of the custom-made plasmic rifle Picker had been pointing at me earlier. She’d burned through an entire power pack fine-tuning its aim on Picker’s indoor range, but when she was finished she confirmed that she could indeed do what I needed done. “Franck really was right about your wordiness.”
“Nervous habit,” I said, giving a quick look around at the various Badlands rooftops that were higher than ours, the closest one a good five blocks away. No one was visible skulking around on any of them.
But then, I hadn’t expected to have any such company. A good sniper could make a kill shot from there, but settling down in a location like that would never even occur to a bounty hunter. Not only was it useless as a surveillance point for street-level activity at our distance, but when a hunter’s payment was dependent on hauling in the target—or, if the client wasn’t fussy, the target’s body—it would take far too long to get to the scene after a kill or incapacitation.
And of course, if there were other hunters present, which there usually were, some unprincipled type was bound to move in and poach the target for himself.
“Looks clear,” I announced, returning to Nikki. She had our creation, whom I’d dubbed Lady Smirks, ready in her harness, dressed in the clothing, hat, and veil that Nikki had been wearing when she left the Ruth a few hours ago.
Only not quite the same. The mannikin we’d borrowed for the job was only about three-quarters human size, so we’d needed to do a quick tailoring job to make the clothing fit it.
Nikki had never been enthusiastic about this plan. Now, as she propped Lady Smirks up against the elevator housing wall, she looked even less so. “I don’t know, Roarke,” she said. “They’re bound to see this thing’s too small to be a person.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “At this distance human eyes can’t measure scale with any accuracy, especially with no reference points around. It’s also too light to be human, but they won’t know that, either. And on top of that, we have you and the vaunted Schlichting marksmanship to sell it.”
“Assuming they don’t see the shots.”
“Plasmic shots in broad daylight are notoriously hard to see,” I pointed out. “No, this will work. The only unknown at this point is how many stragglers we’ll have to go through on our way out.”
“That won’t be a problem,” she said softly. “All right. Call Selene and let’s do this.”
I nodded and keyed my phone. Selene answered—“Go,” I said.
I got her acknowledgment and put the phone away. I took a moment to check Lady Smirks’s wide-mesh macramé harness, making sure not to disturb the thin elastic bands on the tops of the mannikin’s wrists or the more rigid ones holding them at her sides. Thirty more seconds, I estimated . . .
And there it was, rising into view across the rooftops between us and the spaceport.
One of the Ruth’s bioprobes.
“Get ready,” I told Nikki, getting a grip on the mesh. I’d told Selene to run the probe as slowly as she could, but they weren’t exactly designed for a lazy afternoon saunter, and it was burning its way toward us like an anti-armor missile. I saw it shift direction just a bit as Selene fine-tuned its altitude and heading . . .
I stepped away from the elevator housing to face the incoming probe, Lady Smirks balanced against my back and the top of the weighted harness ready in my hands. The probe flew over the building across the street—passed over the street itself—crossed the edge of our apartment building—
And as it roared toward me I hurled the mesh as high up into the air as I could. The probe’s nose hit it, catching one of the large mesh holes and yanking Lady Smirks up off the roof. The probe continued on over the next street and the hunters undoubtedly looking upward to see what was going on. A couple of shots rang out from below, and I heard one ricochet off the probe’s belly.
Sitting with her back braced against the elevator housing, sighting along the plasmic’s barrel, Nikki fired twice. The first shot hit the thin cord anchoring Lady Smirks’s left wrist to her side, releasing the arm to snap upward on its elastic strap to the mesh anchoring the mannikin to the probe. The second shot hit the similar cord tying down Lady Smirks’s right wrist.
Only instead of snapping up all the way to the mesh, this arm raised just to the mannikin’s forehead, treating the watchers below to a sarcastic salute.
The masquerade alone would probably have convinced the hunters that their quarry was flying the coop. But the movement of the mannikin’s hands, the first to a steadying grip on her harness, the second in a mocking gesture, would have put even the most skeptical observer’s doubts to rest. That was indeed Nicole Schlichting riding the missile now blasting its way out of the city, and their siege had just been breached.
It was only as I finished running through the satisfaction of a plan well executed that the full significance of what had just happened caught up with me.
I looked down at Nikki in her new blond wig as she worked at disassembling the plasmic rifle. Two thin cords on a rapidly moving target . . . and she’d nailed them both with a single shot each.
A shiver ran up my back. I never miss, she’d told me once. My brain might have accepted that, but my more practical and cynical gut had continued to cling to the comforting thought that no one was that good.
Only she was. She really, truly was.
She finished packing up the rifle and stood up. “So,” she said in a conversational tone, as if she did this sort of impossible thing every day. “Back to the ship?”
“Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather be,” I said, trying for the same casual tone.
“Not really,” she said. “Let me give Franck back his gun and pick up my package and I’ll be ready.”
I suppressed a wince. Somehow, in and among all the other things that had happened since Nikki left the ship, I’d almost forgotten she’d come here to get something. Something hand-crafted, most likely expensive, and almost certainly lethal. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll walk you back and make sure you and Selene are safe, then I’ve got one more errand to run before we leave. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”
“I wasn’t worried,” she said, regarding me thoughtfully. “Need any help?”
As my father used to say, Unless you really, truly have it nailed down, grab any help that’s offered to you. Especially if it’s a hammer.
Yes, I wanted help. I wanted Jordan McKell, Ixil, and every other field operative the Icarus Group had on tap. I wanted a couple of platoons of EarthGuard Marines and a flight of Siroc pursuit fighters, with maybe a side order of Royal Kalixiri commandos tossed in.
But none of them were available. And if there was one thing I’d figured out for sure, it was that I didn’t want a hammer like Nikki wandering around outside the Ruth any more than she absolutely had to.
“Thanks,” I told her. “But I’ve got this.”
* * *
Trent came back to consciousness via roughly the same stages I’d gone through earlier. “Welcome back,” I said. “Don’t try to rub your eyes, because you can’t.”
For a moment he continued to sit there with his head resting on the taverno’s private room table, blinking his eyes as he worked his way to full consciousness. I saw his shoulders move as he tried to bring his arms out from behind his back, realized they were restrained at the wrists, and gave up the effort. “Roarke,” he said, his voice a little croaky. He worked moisture into it as he sat upright. “What the hell did you do to me?” he demanded, sounding better this time.
“Nice,” I complimented him. “Confusion, outrage, and righteous indignation, and you’re not even completely up to speed yet. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d had Shakespearian training.”
His eyes narrowed, just noticeably. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that was a great performance,” I said. “But we’ll skip the curtain calls for now. I want to know who put out the bounty notice on Nicole Schlichting.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you do,” he said, his eyes flicking around the room. “Is she here?”
“No,” I said. “Well, maybe no, anyway. Hard to tell with a master ghost-walker like her. So?”
“So what?” he countered, giving the room another sweep, pausing on the chairs where his cohorts had been sitting earlier. “What did you do with Beeks and Jingo?”
“Me? Nothing,” I said. “No, the badgemen did all the heavy lifting. Did you know they both had bounties on them?”
His throat worked. “No, I didn’t.”
“Too bad,” I said. “You could have made a little extra money today on top of the—well, on top of the nothing, actually. Who’s gunning for Schlichting?”
“You’re a funny man, Roarke,” he said softly. “You might want to think about how easy it is to make a laughing man stop laughing.”
“I already don’t laugh nearly as much as I used to,” I said. “Come on, Trent. Simple question, simple answer. Let’s match them up and we can both call it a day.”
For a long moment he stared at me. “I don’t know who put out the notice,” he said at last. “I already told you that.”
I shook my head. “Oh, Trent,” I said with a sort of weary regret. “Trent, Trent, Trent. Are we really going to have to do it that way?” I made a show of pulling out the knife I’d pilfered from his pocket while he was still asleep. “Fine. If you insist.”
“I don’t know what you—”
And right in the middle of his sentence he snapped his arms out from behind his back and lunged at me, one hand aiming for my knife hand and the other clawing for my face. Reflexively, I twitched back in my chair.
And watched him fall flat on his face half a meter short of his twin goals as the restraints I’d used to anchor his ankles to his chair went taut. He mostly got his hands under him in time to break his fall, but I heard the painful oof of forcibly expelled air.
“So I take it you’re not going to cooperate?” I suggested, standing up and moving around behind him.
“Go to hell, Roarke,” he managed. “You and your tame buddy Nask can both go to hell.”
“Yes, I seem to be making that trip a lot lately,” I said as I returned his knife to my pocket and drew my plasmic. “As for Nask, I’m pretty sure he’s already there. Last chance, Trent. If you don’t have a specific name, I’ll settle for a list of possibles.”
I paused, waiting. He didn’t reply. “Suit yourself,” I said, backing toward the door. “If you change your mind, just leave the name in a message in my mail drop. There’ll be money in it, too. Good money.”
He snorted, turning his head to glare up at me as he peeled himself up off the floor. “You really think you can buy me?” he demanded.
“If you’re not in the hunter business for the money, what the hell are you in it for?” I countered. “Speaking of which, the paperwork on Beeks and Jingo should be ready for me at the badgeman office. See you around.”
I backed out of the room, closing the door behind me. The restraints tying him to the chair were pretty tough, and I had his knife, so it would be awhile before he could get free. Plenty of time for me to get to the badgemen and collect my money.
Or at least that was what I hoped Trent would think. In fact, I had no intention of going anywhere except straight back to the spaceport. If Trent still had resources in the Badlands, better for him to mount a Light Brigade charge at a bunch of badgemen than at the Ruth.
Still, it would have been nice if he’d loosened up and given me at least a starting point for nailing down Nikki’s obsessive stalker. Unless we could clear that up, we were going to be looking over our shoulders until we finished whatever job Cherno had signed her up for and could finally say good-bye.
But as my father used to say, It’s amazing how many people who see you breaking eggs will automatically assume you’re making an omelet. If Trent wouldn’t give me the name, maybe there was another way to get it.
* * *
Nikki was waiting inside the entryway when I arrived at the Ruth, displaying some residual annoyance that I hadn’t let her come with me to confront Trent. “About time,” she said.
“Took him longer to wake up than I expected,” I explained as I sealed the entryway hatch behind me. The long, hardside travel case she’d brought back from Picker’s place, I noted, was resting against the corridor wall behind her. Whatever was in there, she apparently didn’t want to let it out of her sight. “Selene on the bridge?”
“Yes, getting us a lift slot,” Nikki said. “Did he talk?”
“Oh, he certainly talked,” I told her as I headed forward. “Trent’s a really good talker. Doesn’t mean he actually said anything.”
“So you got nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I said. “There was a time or two that he hesitated when he should have been spitting curses at me, and once when he said something he probably shouldn’t have.”
“What was that?”
“Still need to cogitate on it,” I told her. “Don’t worry, I’ll be happy to share when the time comes.”
I’d be sharing with Selene, anyway. Not sure how much of anything would be going Nikki’s direction.
But there was no point saying that out loud. Especially since she’d probably already figured it out.
“Sure,” she said. Collecting her travel case, she took a few long strides and caught up with me.
Selene was in the pilot’s chair when we arrived. “Any trouble?” she asked. Her voice was calm, but her pupils showed her relief that I was back safely. They went a little more stiff as she spotted Nikki in the corridor behind me.
“No, Trent pretty much lived up to my expectations,” I said. “Did you get the note I sent?”
“Yes.” She flicked another look at Nikki, who’d stopped in the bridge hatchway, then swiveled around to point at the plotting table and the Yellowdune map she’d pulled up. “Poloran Spaceport is the closest to the ruins themselves. Klax River Field, on the western edge of the city of Klaxorr, is closest to the StarrComm center, about thirty kilometers away. I’m assuming you want the latter?”
“Yes, if you can get us in,” I said, tapping a spot on the map only three kilometers from the StarrComm center. “What about this one?”
She craned her neck to look. “Private field.”
“Of course it is,” I growled. “Commarks to commas who owns it.”
“The Patth?”
“Congratulations, you’ve won a comma,” I said. “Do we have a lift slot?”
“Fifteen minutes, and I’ve got tentative confirmation on Klax River. We should have full approval before we lift.”
“You’re not going to the ruins themselves?” Nikki asked. “I thought that was why you wanted to come to Niskea in the first place.”
“Changed my mind,” I said. “Selene, did you get a chance to look through the Rosselgang hunter notices?”
“Yes,” she said, handing me her info pad. “The target name is different, but if you pull up the picture it looks like the one you described.”
One glance was all I needed to see that it was indeed the sketch of Nikki’s face that Scowly had been carrying. “That’s it,” I confirmed, keying for the full notice. Contact information . . . there it was. A standard mail drop, with the name Hades associated with it. The same name Mindi had mentioned on Vesperin. “Okay, we’ve got a plan,” I said, wondering distantly if Mindi had pulled through. “Nikki, better head back to the dayroom and strap in.”
“Where are we going after Klaxorr?” she asked, not budging.
“We can talk about that later,” I said.
“We’ve still got fifteen—thirteen—minutes,” she said. “We can talk about it now.”
Sternly, I told my temper to go have a time-out. “Fine,” I growled. “After Klaxorr we’re going to head to the Trandosh dig on Meima.”
“I thought Meima was low on your list.”
“Unlikely doesn’t necessarily mean wrong,” I pointed out. “As my father used to say, The battle is not always to the strong, nor the race to the swift, and if you have inside information to the contrary a small bet can pay off big.”
“And if you’re wrong?” she pressed. “Meima’s a long ways away, and Cherno won’t be happy if you run down his clock.”
I grimaced. That thought had been hovering at the back of my mind for quite a while now. “You were the one who said there’s always a second opportunity somewhere down the line,” I reminded her.
“Yes, and there always is,” she agreed. “The question is whether he’ll be patient enough to wait for it. If not, he may cut all three of us loose.”
And if he did that, the severance package he offered would probably not be pleasant. “Unfortunately, we don’t have many other options,” I said. “If you look at the other places on his list, there’s really only enough time to look at one of them. I’ve got a feeling about Meima.”
“A feeling?”
“At this point in the chase, gut feelings are as much use as actual data,” I said with a shrug. “Doesn’t mean we won’t try to hedge our bets as best we can. Meima’s fifteen days away, but we can trim that to eleven if we run at plus-thirty.”
“That will require extra fueling stops.”
“I’ve factored those into the timeline.”
“What about the extra fuel cost?” she persisted. “Do you have enough to cover it?”
I thought about Nask’s million commarks tucked away in my wallet. “We should, yes,” I said. “Like I said, I think it’s our best option.”
“I suppose we’ll find out,” she said. “So why are we going to Klaxorr?”
I looked at Selene, noting the wariness in her pupils. “Hopefully, to get you out from under this bounty notice.”
“How do you propose to do that?” Nikki asked.
“I don’t know,” I said evasively. “But I’ll think of something.”
* * *
Unlike the port in the Badlands and the one Muninn had used to get us to the Odinn, Klax River had been built in a fairly open area with plenty of room to grow. The landing cradles were large, relatively new, and nicely spaced out. I put us down in our assigned spot without trouble, and while Selene arranged to have our fuel tanks topped off I headed to the nearest runaround stand, grabbed a vehicle, and headed for the StarrComm center.
It was still late morning on this side of the planet. Traffic was fairly light as I left the port, but got steadily denser as I approached and then passed the edge of Klaxorr city proper. More than once, as the rest of the vehicles around me unexpectedly slowed or even stopped, I wondered if I should have called up to the Odinn and asked Nask to let us put down at their private field instead of Klax River.
But then, that would have tainted one of the two prongs of this experiment right from the start. So I kept going, stopped when the traffic stopped, went when it went, and fantasized about Nikki sitting on the runaround’s roof shooting the more annoying drivers for me.
As my father used to say, There may come a day when the nasty things we merely think about will become actual crimes. Do not hope for that day.
I reached the StarrComm center to find it would only be about twenty minutes before I could get a booth. I found a seat in the waiting area, working out my message and keeping an eye on the other patrons. None of them seemed especially interested in me, but of course that was exactly how a properly trained observer would look.
But at least no one glared or approached or took a shot at me. All things considered, that was already better than most of the rest of my day had been.
Finally, it was my turn. I closed myself into my assigned booth, fed money into the slot, and punched in the number on the bounty notice Selene had tagged for me. The mail drop came up, the Ready notice came on, and I took a deep breath.
“Hello, Hades,” I said into the microphone. “My name is Gregory Roarke. I have your target in hand and will be bringing her to Barcarolle on Meima, where I’ll be happy to turn her over to you. Let me know when you’ve arrived and we can arrange a meeting. Make sure you have the payment money in hand. Here’s my mail drop info for when you’re ready to make it happen.”
I gave my number and signed off. Prong One of the experiment was underway. Time to return to the Ruth and see if Prong Two would pan out. I collected my change, walked past the desk and through the waiting area, and headed out into the midday sunshine.
To find Nask’s man Huginn waiting for me.
He was sitting on one of the benches along the approach walkway, as if waiting for someone or pausing in a lunchtime stroll to sit and watch the clouds drift past overhead. But he stirred as I stepped into view through the doors, and as I headed toward the parking area he got casually to his feet. “Morning, Roarke,” he called as he sauntered toward an intercept. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
“Getting a bit warm for my taste,” I said, waiting until we were in better conversation distance before stopping. “If you’re looking to make a call, this would be a good time. Not too many people in there right now.”
“Yes, the pre-noonday lull,” he said, nodding. “So what brings you to Yellowdune?”
“Yellowdune?” I echoed, looking around. “I thought this was Klaxorr. Those runaround nav systems are just useless, aren’t they?”
He smiled, but it was a mechanical thing without any genuine humor behind it. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t think I do,” I said. “Perhaps you can explain it to me?”
For a moment he just looked at me, probably trying to decide how sarcastic I was being and whether I’d crossed the line to where he would be permitted to do something about it. “You and Schlichting made a lot of noise in the Badlands today,” he said. “Stirred up the whole city, for that matter.”
“Yes, but we all got out alive,” I said. “That makes it a draw in my book. By the way, I hadn’t had a chance yet to thank you for getting Selene to and from the StarrComm center safely. I owe you. And Sub-Director Nask.”
“I’m sure Sub-Director Nask appreciates it.” He gestured toward the walkway bordering the StarrComm center grounds, a winding promenade lined with trees and contoured flower beds. “Walk with me.”
“I really should get back to the Ruth,” I said, not moving. “We need to get going, and I think we’ve probably worn out our welcome on Niskea.”
“Not sure how much welcome here you had to begin with,” he said. “Where are you going?”
“To our next destination,” I said. “Not entirely sure where that is yet.”
“Ah,” he said, gesturing again. “Walk with me.”
As my father used to say, One invitation is a request, two is an order, three is a threat. Try very hard not to let it get past two. “I’d be delighted,” I murmured.
We headed out—westward, I noted, though I suspected it was the relative lack of other people in that direction that was important rather than the direction itself. “As I was saying,” Huginn continued, “you and Schlichting made quite an impression on the Badlands today.”
“I hope you’re not blaming me for that,” I said. “She was the one who set the whole mess in motion.”
“So the available evidence would indicate,” he said, a bit reluctantly. “There is, however, a school of thought that says trouble clusters around certain specific individuals.” He gave me a sideways look. “Sub-Director Nask considers you to be in that category.”
“Not sure I’m flattered,” I said cautiously. The relative lack of witnesses out here might make private conversation easier, but it also lent itself to equally private violence. “If it makes you feel any better, I really don’t go looking for trouble.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “If it makes you feel better, the sub-director also has you in the category of efficient people who achieve their chosen goal with very little wasted motion.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said. At least it sounded more like one than the troublemaker thing. “Your point?”
“My point is that, as far as I can see, nothing you’ve done on Niskea has been wasted motion,” he said. “Including your trip here to Yellowdune.”
“Except that I’m not at Yellowdune,” I said as patiently as I could. “Even if I was, I wouldn’t be looking to cut in. Sub-Director Nask wouldn’t be supervising personally unless you were here in force, which as far as I’m concerned means this particular set of ruins are all yours.”
“I suspect the Icarus Group would disagree.”
“Probably,” I had to admit. “But the Icarus Group isn’t here. It’s just you and me.”
“Is it?” he countered, turning finally to look squarely at me. “Because this is what I think, Roarke. I think the whole Badlands thing was just a very loud diversion, something to get everyone looking and thinking in the wrong direction while you and Selene sneaked off to Yellowdune and located the portal.”
“Really?” I said, giving him a patient look. “Just like that? You’ve been searching for who knows how long, and we just waltz in and undercut you? Who do you think we are, the Wizards of Camelot?”
“There was only one wizard,” he corrected absently. “Merlin. And don’t bother denying that you have some kind of special talent for these searches. I can’t see any other reason the Icarus Group would keep you around.”
“Well, there are our sunny dispositions,” I said. “As my father used to say, Never underestimate the value of an honest, friendly smile for persuading people not to shoot you. But fine, let’s assume Selene and I are crackerjack at such things. Do you see her anywhere around? Or any other Icarus operatives, for that matter?”
“Just because I haven’t seen them doesn’t mean they aren’t here,” he said. “Tell me why you left a perfectly good StarrComm center in Rosselgang and flew all the way out here just to use the Klaxorr one. Especially since you’ve already said that you’re in a hurry.”
“One: The Rosselgang StarrComm center is hardly even moderately good, let alone perfectly good,” I said. “It requires me to travel through a particularly nasty part of the Badlands, and one trip like that per day is my limit. Two: I hoped that if I dropped in this close to your Yellowdune operation that you or Muninn would show up for a closer look.”
“And I have. So?”
“So I was hoping to ask you for a favor.”
His cheek muscles twitched. Clearly, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “A favor?”
“Yes,” I said. “Selene, Nikki, and I need to go to Meima. I thought maybe Sub-Director Nask would be willing to fly us there.”
“What?”
“I’m supposed to meet someone in Barcarolle on Meima,” I explained. “I don’t know where he’s coming from, but it would be handy if I could get there ahead of him, or at least sooner than he expects. A ride aboard a Talariac-equipped ship would cut the travel time to a quarter of what the Ruth would take.”
He was staring at me now as if I’d suddenly gone senile. “Are you serious?” he demanded. “Do you think anyone here would let you—?” He broke off, actually sputtering.
“Okay, so it was a long shot,” I conceded. “But it was worth a try.”
He snorted. “No. It wasn’t.”
“Or it wasn’t,” I said. “Well. Nice chat, but I have places I need to be.”
“Places like Yellowdune?”
“I already said no,” I said. “If you’d like, you’re welcome to come to Klax River with me and watch the Ruth take off.”
“As if that would prove anything.” He stared at me a moment longer, then the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m beginning to see why Sub-Director Nask once offered you an Expediter position. You have the full range of arrogant confidence that the Patthaaunuth look for in applicants.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, too,” I said. “Well. Good-bye, Huginn.”
“Au revoir,” he corrected. “Means until we meet again.” He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Because we will meet again.”
A shiver ran up my back. Between him, Muninn, and half the Spiral’s bounty hunters, if I’d deliberately set out to make myself a new roster of enemies, I doubted I could have done a better job of it. “I’ll look forward to it,” I said. “One last question: Do you have any idea who this Hades is, the one behind the bounty notice on Schlichting?”
“None at all,” he said. “Nor do I care. Au revoir, Roarke.”
“Right,” I murmured. “Au revoir.”