They were wearing the same sort of neo-Greek tunics as the two who’d jumped me on Xathru, and it didn’t take long to find out that the limited pocket space that came with the outfits included no handcuff keys. One had a belt pouch, similarly bereft of keys. Neither was carrying a weapon.
But a couple of meters away on the floor where it had fallen at the table’s collapse was my phone.
My imprisoning chair had gotten itself caught in a slight hollow formed by the bodies of the two Iykams, but a little rocking broke me free. I rolled up onto my knees, got to my feet, and picked my way through the debris to the phone. At this range I could see the Iykams hadn’t gotten any further in their disassembly of the device than merely pulling the back off, though why they’d even done that I didn’t know. Perhaps they were hoping to tease a latent phone number or two out of the memory that they could use.
If so, they were out of luck. That was the phone I’d taken from James Fulbright on Dorscind’s World, and there were no incriminating numbers connected with me anywhere in there, latent or otherwise.
Still, I was glad they’d kept the phone around long enough to try, since it had now put communication with the outside world in my hands. Easing onto my side on the floor within reach of the phone, I rolled the device onto its back. I was still in big trouble, but a quick call to Ixil would at least alert the others that the Patth were here and on the hunt. With one final glance at the door, I keyed it on and reached an outstretched finger toward the keypad.
And paused.
There was something too easy about this. Something far too easy. Where were the alert reinforcements rushing in to save the day? Why were these two Iykams fiddling with my phone instead of someone in a properly equipped workroom? For that matter, why only two guards in the first place?
I keyed off the phone and turned it over again, angling it so that I could get a really good look at the exposed circuitry. And this time, knowing what to look for, it wasn’t hard to spot.
My clever little playmates had wired a repeater chip into the transmitter line, on the upstream side of the encryption sticker. I couldn’t read the fine print on the chip, but it almost didn’t matter. With the simpler Mark VI chip they would be able to eavesdrop on any conversation I might have. With the more advanced Mark IX version and a properly equipped phone elsewhere in the city they’d not only be able to listen in but could also triangulate through the local phone system to get the location of the other end of the conversation. I’d been wrong about the Voodoo pins; they intended to get hold of the Icarus the easy way.
I was willing to help out guards who wanted me to make trouble, but my cooperation with the enemy only went so far. Rolling back up to my knees, I left the phone where it was and headed toward where my plasmic lay next to my ID folder.
I was just leaning down to pick it up when the door slammed open.
I dropped the rest of the way to the floor, my outstretched hand snatching up the weapon as I hit the ground hard enough to reignite the blazing pain in my head. Ignoring the red haze that had suddenly dropped in front of my eyes, I swiveled both my body and the plasmic to face the door.
It was, I had to admit, an impressive sight. Four Iykams stood in a semicircle just inside the doorway, each holding one of those nasty coronal-discharge weapons, their alert motionlessness giving them the appearance of transplanted gargoyles. Behind them, I could see a couple more of the ugly beasts outside the door, undoubtedly waiting eagerly for their chance at me.
And standing right in the middle of the doorway between the two groups was a gray-robed Patth.
“Don’t bother with the weapon, Mr. McKell,” he said. His voice was typical Patth, managing to mix sincere, contemptuous, and smarmy into a sound that was as distinctive in its own way as Chort’s Craean whistling. “You don’t seriously believe we would leave you a functional weapon, do you?”
“After that rather heavy-handed trick you tried with my phone, not really,” I agreed. It was hard to aim properly with my gun hand cuffed to a chair arm, but insofar as I was able I pointed the plasmic squarely at the center of his torso. “At least, not on purpose. You ever hear of a three-pop?”
There was a slight but noticeable rustling among the gargoyles. “I don’t think so,” the Patth said, adding a bit more amusement into the smarmy part of his vocal mix. “But I’m sure you’re dying to tell me.”
“An appropriate choice of words,” I said approvingly. “A three-pop is a high-power capacitor wired internally into a plasmic’s fire circuit, kept charged by the main power pack but otherwise independent of it. It holds enough juice for two to four shots.” I squinted consideringly. “That means you and up to three of your toadies will die if any of you comes any closer. If you’d like to point out your least favorites among them, I’ll see what I can do to oblige you.”
The four front Iykams had stopped looking like friendly little gargoyles. All four corona guns were up and aimed, held in taut-looking grips at the full extension of taut-looking arms. But for once I had the advantage, and they all knew it. Lying there four meters away from them, I was right on the edge of their kill zones, while they were well inside mine. Add to that the point that they couldn’t afford to kill me—and the equally important point that none of them was especially eager to get killed, either—and we had the makings here of a good old-fashioned standoff.
And for a minute it looked as if I might actually get away with it. Very little of the Patth’s face was visible in the shadow of that hood, but what I could see seemed to be in the throes of serious indecision as he weighed the merits of risking his personal skin against the reality that the Icarus still had a long way to go before we were home free. This was no professional bounty hunter, or even a standard flunky used to obeying orders without the luxury of being able to factor personal preference into the equation. Odds were this was a reasonably senior Patth citizen, pressed by necessity and desperation into this hunt for us.
But even as he hesitated a new voice from the outer room joined the discussion. Another Patth voice, just as smarmy as the first, but carrying with it the unmistakable weight of authority. “Nonsense,” he said. “He’s bluffing. Enig, tell your fools to go get the weapon. We don’t have time for this.”
The Patth in the doorway grunted something and two of the Iykams stepped reluctantly forward, their corona guns rigidly pointed at me. I let them get within two steps, just in case someone decided to have second thoughts, then let my plasmic settle harmlessly to the floor. “You’re right,” I acknowledged. “I’m bluffing.”
“Bring him in here,” the second voice ordered. There was no gloating in the tone that I could detect, nor any relief either. He’d made a decision, had issued an order and had it obeyed, and was not surprised by either the obedience or the fact that his decision had turned out to be right. Clearly, we had suddenly jumped a whole bunch of rungs upward on the Patth social ladder.
The Iykams hauled me to my feet and half pulled, half dragged me into the other room. This one was much nicer, nearly three times the size of my original cell and furnished better, with a couple of chairs and lamps scattered around. Near the wall to my left was a desk with a handful of monitors arranged along its front edge, and the other Patth seated behind it. The room was also swarming with Iykams, but you couldn’t have everything.
“Not bad,” I said, looking around as they led me to another plain wooden armchair that had been placed in front of the desk. Again, there seemed to be only one door leading out of the place, directly across the room from the door to my cell. Framed in the ceiling overhead was what at first glance looked like a skylight, but which on second glance proved to be only a standard light fixture designed to look that way. There were a couple of ventilation vents at ceiling and floor level, with decorative crosshatched gratings that looked flimsy enough to tear right off the wall. But through the holes in those same gratings I could see that the ductwork beyond was far too narrow for even someone as thin as Chort to fit through. A q
uick count of the Iykams came up with a total of eight. “Not bad at all,” I added as my guards unfastened my handcuffs from the broken chair, shoved me down into the new one, and secured my wrists to the arms again. This time, I took particular note of which of them pocketed the keys. “If you kept your prisoners in a place like this instead of that converted stockroom back there you’d probably get better cooperation.”
There was no comment from the other side of the desk. I finished my survey of the room in a leisurely fashion, then finally turned my full attention to the other Patth.
If anything, my earlier hunch about his status had fallen short of the mark. Instead of the usual unadorned gray worn in public by most Patth, his robe was instead gray with dark burnt-orange slash marks set into the sleeves and edge of the hood. This was one of the Patth elite diplomatic corps, possibly even the Palmary ambassador himself. “I’m impressed,” I said. “May I ask whom I have the honor of addressing?”
He regarded me another moment before answering. “You may call me Nask, Mr. McKell. You have been a most troubling person, indeed.”
“Thank you,” I said, inclining my head slightly, ignoring the fresh swell of pain the motion induced. “You seem to think the game is over.”
“What makes you say that?” he asked calmly. “It is, of course, but what makes you phrase it that way?”
“Your so-called name,” I said. “ ‘Nask’ is one of the Patth words for ‘victor.’ ”
“Interesting,” he said. “We were right about you. You’re not just a simple merchant pilot.”
“That’s right, I’m not,” I told him. “I’m an employee of a very powerful and dangerous man. A figure who, I daresay, could cause immense trouble for even the Patth economic empire.”
“Let us guess whom you refer to,” the other Patth, Enig, put in. He had moved through the circle of glowering Iykams to a spot behind Nask, where he now stood at respectful attention. He didn’t sound particularly smarmy at the moment, probably rather miffed that my bluff with the plasmic had made him look silly in front of his superior.
And now, in the better light in here, I could also see the telltale glitter of starship-pilot implants around his eyes. His deference was more proof, if I’d needed it, that Nask was a very high-ranking Patth indeed. “Would this powerful and dangerous man by any chance be Johnston Scotto Ryland?” Enig went on.
“You are well informed,” I said, trying to hide the sudden sinking sensation in my stomach. If they knew about my connection with Brother John, and weren’t worried about it, they must know something I didn’t. “I imagine you also know what crossing a man like that means.”
“We do,” Nask said. “But you’re sadly mistaken if you think there is any crossing involved. Once your connection with Mr. Ryland became known, we contacted his organization. Would you care to hear his response, delivered to the Patthaaunutth Director General approximately six hours ago?”
The sinking sensation sank a little deeper. “Sure, go ahead.”
Nask reached forward and keyed one of the displays. “Quote: ‘Jordan McKell not known to this organization.’ Unquote. Succinctly put, wouldn’t you say?”
“Very,” I agreed with a sigh. The heat had been turned up, and Brother John had responded by throwing me to the wolves. Typical. “So where does that leave us?”
“It leaves us in position to bargain,” Nask said. “And without any external entanglements.”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me correctly,” he assured me. “You have the Icarus. I want it. It’s that simple.”
“Really,” I said, trying in vain to read that half-shadowed face. Coming from a human, such an implied offer would carry the strong implication that the bargainer was offering to cut his superior completely out of the picture. But Nask was a Patth. Surely that couldn’t be what he meant. Could it? “Would you care to elaborate as to what specific entanglements you hope to avoid?”
He waved a hand. “The usual ones. Legal questions, the Commonwealth Uniform Code, human governmental interference. All the various stumbling blocks that impede the progress and prosperity of reasonable beings.”
“And does that list include other governmental interference?” I asked.
“It includes all governments that impede progress,” he said. “Naturally, governments that instead enhance progress would be welcome.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding. In other words, he was proposing the three of us make a deal, which Nask and Enig would then turn around and sell to the Patth government for, no doubt, a tidy profit. I could presumably make a more personalized deal with Nask than I could with the Patth Director General, Nask and Enig would both move a few rungs up the ladder for their efforts, and the Patth as a whole would get the Icarus.
I looked around at the Iykams. And, of course, if Nask’s generosity didn’t prove sufficiently tempting, his hatchetbeings could take me apart piece by piece without any official Patth governmental involvement, should it ever come to that. “Let’s hear your offer,” I said, looking back at Nask.
He shrugged, a gesture the Patth had picked up from us. Somehow, it made him look less human than the other way around. “Let’s hear your request,” he countered. “We’re prepared to be quite generous.”
“Suppose my price includes more than just cash?” I asked, wishing desperately I had some idea how long I’d been unconscious. At some point, I knew, Ixil would conclude I’d been taken and would find a way to get the Icarus off Palmary without me. If I could stall that long, at least the others would be safe. “What if it includes the lives and freedom of my crew as well?”
“Their lives can certainly be included in any deal,” Nask said. “Their freedom … well, that may be a bit more difficult to arrange.”
“How much more difficult?”
He shrugged again. “They would need to remain guests of the Patthaaunutth Director General for a time. In quite pleasant surroundings, I assure you. Eventually, they would certainly be released.”
“I’m sure they would be counting the days,” I said. “And how long would you anticipate this luxury vacation would last?”
His eyes seemed to probe mine. “Until such time as the alien device you carry could be made operational or else proved nonfunctional. Your assistance, or lack of it, could certainly affect the length of that study.”
“Only if I knew anything about it,” I said, wondering how much he knew about the artifact. Or rather, how much he thought he knew about it. “It’s completely sealed up.”
“The unsealing will be the least of our difficulties,” Nask said dryly. “So: the lives and eventual freedom of your traveling companions. What else?”
“Well, there’d have to be money, of course,” I said. “Lots of it.” I lifted my eyebrows to him. “Unfortunately, money’s not much use if you aren’t able to spend it. And I’ll hardly be able to spend it if I’m locked away, will I?”
He made an unfamiliar gesture with his fingertips. “If you’re worried about retribution from your companions, we can arrange that you be housed separately.”
“You misunderstand,” I said. “I’m saying that I walk. Immediately. You can lock up the others from now till doomsday as far as I’m concerned. But I get my money and walk.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m certain the Director General would never agree to that. We can’t allow even a hint of this find to leak out to the rest of the Spiral.”
“What about Cameron himself?” I countered. “He knows about the Icarus, and last I heard he was still at large.”
“Your information is out-of-date,” Enig spoke up. “Arno Cameron was apprehended on Meima two days ago. He is being held at our compound there.”
“Ah,” I said. So much for Brother John’s support; now, so much for Patth honesty, too. Big surprise on both counts.
“Still, I can assure you that during the time you’re detained you’ll have accommodations and treatment suitable for Steye’tylian royalty,
” Nask went on, his voice low and earnest and utterly trustworthy. Even the normal smarminess level had been muted for the occasion. “And afterward, you will be a friend to the Patthaaunutth for the rest of your life.”
“Something to strive for, all right,” I said with only a trace of sarcasm. The glow on his face, I noticed, had changed subtly. Had one of the displays facing him altered? “But suppose the device turns out to be useless? How much of a friend will I be then?”
“When the Patthaaunutth promise friendship, that promise is always fulfilled,” he said. “Your goodwill and assistance will be counted toward that end, no matter what the final result.”
“I see,” I said, the hairs on my neck rising. Suddenly Nask’s words and tone had gone mechanical, his full attention riveted to the displays. Something was happening out there, something even more important than sweet-talking me out of the Icarus. “Suppose I can find a way to guarantee my silence in some other way—”
“You must choose quickly,” Nask interrupted me. “Tell me where the Icarus is, or the decision will be snatched from your hands.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, the sinking sensation back in my stomach. “How could—”
I broke off at the sound of clinking from the door to my right. The sound of a lock being keyed. “He is here,” Nask said with a forlorn-sounding wheeze I’d never heard a Patth make before. “The glory and profit now pass to the Director General.”
The door swung open. I turned to look—
And felt my breath catch like fire in my throat. Two figures were striding into the room, looking as if they owned the place and were about to raise the rent. One was another robed Patth, the by-now-familiar starship-pilot implants twinkling around his eyes.
The other was Revs Nicabar.
CHAPTER
20
It was, on stunned reflection, about the last sight I would have expected to see. The last person in the Spiral I would have thought would be striding with such casual arrogance into a Patth den. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but he beat me to the punch. “I see you’ve got him,” he said to Nask. “About time.”