“She was in Armstrong when I left,” Flint said. “They’re blaming her or her people for the bombing.”
“I heard,” Taylor said. “It’s too crude for Anatolya. She’s a master of subtlety. This may have something to do with Etae, but it wasn’t her idea.”
“You seem convinced.”
Taylor shrugged. “I worked with her. You don’t forget a woman like that.”
“And you don’t think she’s forgotten you,” Flint said. “If you’re so worried she’ll kill you, how come you’ve left your son undefended? Aren’t you afraid they’ll get to you through him?”
Taylor shook his head. “Until you blundered in there yesterday, my son had no idea his family came from anywhere but West Texas. I suppose I’ll have to call him home now, help him a little, but he won’t mind. He said on the link that he finally understands my caution. He’ll be cautious now too, and I convinced him to wait until things die down before collecting what’s left—if anything—of the Lahiri estate.”
“I can give you the name of good people in Armstrong who could help you with that,” Flint said. “You wouldn’t have to leave Earth.”
As he spoke, he wondered if those people were still alive. The urge to get back rose in him once more.
“We’ll see,” Taylor said. He sat back down at the table, keeping the gun close. “Ironic, I think, the way this all turned out. Etae comes back into my life whether I want it to or not. Claire finally goes back to see if she can get Daddy’s forgiveness or approval or whatever it was that drove her in the first place, and does it at the exact moment Etae comes to Armstrong.”
“The pardon caused the timing,” Flint said.
Taylor’s eyes narrowed. “Of course. But you gotta wonder about that old man. He was so corrupt. He took bribe after bribe on the Tribunal. Ever since you showed up, I’ve been wondering if Döbryn or someone contacted him, told him about the public relations mess, and offered to pay him if he helped them kill his daughter. All he had to do was get her to come home after her pardon, something that’d please his wife at the same time.”
Flint felt a chill. “The Judge didn’t want to hire me. He didn’t want her to come home.”
But the Judge had searched for her himself. His wife had wanted to hire Flint, but the Judge had exposed Carolyn long before that.
“Don’t kid yourself, Mr. Retrieval Artist.” Taylor leaned his chair back. “I’ve met people like old man Lahiri all over this universe. Sometimes I think that’s what’s at the heart of places like Etae—people like Döbryn and Lahiri, people who believe more in themselves and what they want, people who, for one reason or another, never learned compassion. Döbryn I can almost understand. Her entire family was massacred right in front of her by Idonae, and the man who saved her, the one who gave her his name, taught her that the best defense is a good offense. She was killing Idonae by the time she was six. She had no hope.”
“And Judge Lahiri?”
“Who knows?” Taylor said. “All I know is that the minute Claire figured out she couldn’t purge his parenting habits from her system no matter how hard she tried, she left. She wouldn’t see Ian no matter how much we begged. Finally she told me the best thing she could do as a mother was to forget she’d ever given birth. And it took me another year or two to believe her.”
Flint set his coffee mug down. He didn’t know what to say. He had come to Earth for answers. Now that he’d found them, he wasn’t sure what to do with them.
“Here’s the thing no one on Etae knows, Mr. Retrieval Artist,” Taylor said, his finger running along the length of his gun. “If I get killed, I got a couple of lawyers in various places instructed to release a lot of information on the Child Martyr. Footage taken as she Disappeared, some other stuff that’ll do the very things the Etaen government worries I’ll do when I’m alive. So if you are here as a representative of Etae, being subtle and secret the way that Döbryn likes to play her games, then you know. I die, it all comes out. And you can’t stop it.”
“It’ll throw that part of the universe back into chaos,” Flint said.
“You don’t think that’s happened already?” Taylor’s grin seemed flat this time. “Someone got Anatolya’s number, they really did. No one’s gonna recognize Etae now that Armstrong’s been bombed. Anatolya’s been defeated at her own game, maybe for the first time in her life.”
Fifty-nine
Anatolya Döbryn finally got her meeting with a member of the Alliance, but not in the way that she had initially imagined. Orenda Kreise came to the secure room where the guards had taken Anatolya.
Kreise looked like she’d been through hell. Anatolya had seen vids of the other woman. Kreise had always been self-possessed, even under stress. Now she was covered with cuts and bruises, and she wheezed as she spoke.
The meeting was short.
“You’re getting a choice,” Kreise said to her, “which is more than some of the diplomats think you should have. You can stay here and face charges as an accessory to the bombing, or you can leave. You will not, of course, get any consideration from the Alliance. Any thoughts of a meeting are off. But it’s pretty clear to us that you didn’t order the actual bombing, since you were trapped in the hotel and your links didn’t work. If your people decided to do it after the riot, then that’s for the Armstrong police to determine. No one objects all the way through the Alliance to you being sent home, so long as no one from your government ever contacts us again.”
“We had nothing to do with that bombing,” Anatolya said.
Kreise’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms, revealing more cuts and bruises along the skin. “You’re welcome to stay and prove it, but you’ll probably end up in some prison somewhere, serving a life sentence for the hundred dead that the city’s found so far.”
Anatolya felt her breath catch. This entire trip had been one disaster after another.
“The Alliance feels the one thing we can give you is this opportunity to leave, so long as you tell your people that we want nothing to do with you. We’re going to let those intergalactic corporations know as well that anyone who uses Etaen enhancements will be prosecuted. That’s the message we want you to take back to Etae. Can you do that?”
Anatolya ran her hands along her legs. She had never been in this position before. Before, she had always run things.
“My people, my team, they—”
“They’ll get justice,” Kreise said. “Whatever that means. Personally, I think you’re getting more than you deserve, but I was overruled.”
She glared at Anatolya.
“So if I were you, I’d get out the moment the Port opens, because I doubt this’ll be a popular decision on Armstrong. You do have a crew to fly your ship?”
“Not everyone disembarked,” Anatolya said.
“Good. I’d hate to have to provide you with one.” Kreise gave her one last look, then headed for the door. “Fifteen minutes to make up your mind. Otherwise, I’m going to let Armstrong’s police know that we have you here.”
She left, closing the door behind her.
Anatolya let out the breath she’d been holding. Part of her wanted to stay, to clear her name and the name of her people. But she could do nothing from prison, and she had seen things like this before. Once or twice, she’d manipulated them herself.
The only way she could help her people was to go back to them. She had no idea how she would turn this around, but she would have to.
If the Alliance was going to prosecute anyone enhanced the Etaen way, then maybe Etae should take its cue from the Alliance. People always made more money on the black market than in the legitimate one.
Money would help Etae. It wouldn’t solve all their problems, but it would be a start.
Anatolya stood, went to the door, and knocked on it. A guard pressed his face against a small opening.
“Tell Ms. Kreise that I’m taking her up on her offer,” Anatolya said. “I want nothing more than to get out of this place and
go home.”
Sixty
The conversation with Taylor left Flint shaken. He walked out of the ranch house and was surprised at how much warmer it was outside than in. The sunlight still caught him; its richness seemed to be something the dome engineers couldn’t duplicate.
He wondered if there was any word from Armstrong. He would check when he got in the car.
At least his links had come back up. Every single computerized function, everything the chips attached to his hands and skin did, had shut down inside of Taylor’s house.
Flint walked around the paved circle, still not certain where the conversation with Taylor had left him. Flint had answers, and he wasn’t sure he liked them.
The Lahiris were dead, not because Flint had found Carolyn and put this into motion, but because it was already in motion when they had contacted him.
He had reached the side of the car when something snaked around his rib cage. The pressure was hard and painful, knocking his breath out of his body.
He grabbed at the thing that held him, feeling warm flesh, and looked down, seeing skin elongated and wrapped around him like rope.
Suddenly he was jerked off his feet and dragged backward. He sent for help along his links, but he couldn’t get enough air to cry aloud.
Something else—another fleshlike thing—wrapped around his arms, trapping them against his torso. The pain was excruciating. Even though the flesh-rope didn’t cut into his flesh, it may as well have. His nerves were pinched against the bone, making his eyes tear.
Then he slammed into a hard body. A face looked down at him, a face that didn’t surprise him at all.
Mosby.
Flint didn’t have a chance. This man had more weapons built into his person than Flint normally carried—and he wasn’t carrying anything at all because he was on Earth.
Even if Flint got away, he wouldn’t be able to escape. Mosby had better eyesight and better hearing. He could capture Flint again with those ropelike arms before Flint made it halfway to the car.
“I like that yacht of yours,” Mosby said in accented English. “We could negotiate—your yacht for help getting Norbert outside.”
So he had found Taylor and was ready to kill him.
“Can’t… breathe…” Flint managed, his words so soft he could barely hear them.
“All right.” Mosby loosened his grip around Flint’s torso ever so slightly. Flint got a little air, and it made him dizzy. “That yacht of yours—it’s keyed to you, isn’t it? Living flesh, right? Blood flowing through the veins, warm skin? Can that be changed?”
Flint had no idea why Mosby was talking about the Emmeline. “I have to… authorize…”
“Figured.” Mosby cursed. “You help me get Norbert outside and I’ll pay you to deliver me off-world. Deal?”
He was offering Flint a chance—probably the only chance Flint would have to survive this attack. Flint certainly couldn’t fight him. But if Flint got him to the Emmeline, he would have a chance to kill him.
“Take… transport,” Flint said. “Like before.”
Mosby let out a dry little laugh. “You Tracked me. I’m sure someone else will. They won’t Track me on that little gem you own.”
His grip around Flint’s middle grew tighter. Black spots dotted Flint’s vision.
“Not gonna help me, huh?” Mosby said. “Never met an ethical Tracker before.”
The word Tracker got through to Flint. Mosby didn’t realize he was a Retrieval Artist. Instead Mosby thought that Flint found Disappeareds for anyone who paid him enough money—in other words, Mosby thought Flint could be bought.
“Didn’t… say… that.” Flint barely got the words out. He was fighting to remain conscious. Something snapped on his right side, sending pain skittering through him. He latched on to the pain, hoped it would keep his eyes open just a moment longer. “Talk… deal…”
Mosby had dragged Flint to the side of the building, near the tall plants.
“You take me anywhere after you get Norbert outside. I’ll pay you. Deal?”
“No…” Flint’s voice was a ghost of its former self. “Sell… you… yacht…. Money… up… front… I’ll… reprogram….”
“Not worth it without Norbert. No deal unless you get me that Disappeared,” Mosby said.
“Don’t… need… him… outside,” Flint said. “Can’t… breathe….”
Mosby loosened his grip a little more. Both sides ached. Flint couldn’t run if he wanted to.
“What do you mean I don’t need him outside? This place is a fortress.”
“Yes.” Flint coughed, tasted blood. That wasn’t good. “But… I’ve… seen… you…kill…. Don’t… need… to… worry.”
“You’ve seen me kill?” Mosby’s dark eyes were too close to Flint’s. They made him dizzy.
“Security… video… Lahiri… apartment…. You… missed…
one… visual…”
Mosby swore again.
“Arsenal… yes…,” Flint said. “Conventional… weapons… and… old… ones…. He… had… a… projectile… gun… on… me…. Lots… of… guns… steel… barred… windows… probably… encased… walls….”
“Which still does me no good,” Mosby said. “I need him out here.”
“Or… you… in… there,” Flint said. The black spots had grown bigger. Even with Mosby’s loosened grip, Flint was going to pass out. “Then… you… can… wipe… the… vids… All… traces… of… us… No… one… will… suspect… we… know… each… other….”
“I like how you think,” Mosby said. “But I can’t just barge through that front door.”
“I… can… get… you…. inside,” Flint said, hoping that was true. “I’ll… knock… talk… to… him… then… you’ll… enter…”
Mosby’s grip loosened even more. “Don’t double-cross me, Tracker.”
Flint coughed, spat blood. “Couldn’t… if… I… wanted… to.”
Mosby smiled; then his elongated arms shoved Flint forward, holding him up as Flint stumbled back toward the door. Flint tried to assess the various pains he was feeling.
A few broken ribs, maybe a broken arm. His lungs burned so badly that he could barely breathe even without the pressure. Coughing blood probably meant that one of them was punctured.
He wasn’t sure he could pull this off without passing out.
His legs wobbled as he tried the stairs. Mosby’s arms let him go and Flint nearly toppled over.
For one brief, heart-stopping moment, Flint thought of running, maybe using the plants to block Mosby’s incredible reach. But he didn’t have the strength, even if he had the cunning and the luck. He could barely stand.
He swayed as he walked to the front door. He wouldn’t be able to warn Taylor. He would have to hope that Taylor used his damn cage no matter who came inside. If Taylor didn’t….
Flint would be responsible for another death.
He raised a hand, saw blood running along the back, realized that Mosby had cut into him after all. Then he wasn’t just having trouble breathing, he was bleeding too.
Flint knocked, like he had before, sucking in as much air as he could so that his voice would sound normal.
“Thought you left.” Taylor’s voice was small and annoyed through the outdoor speakers.
“Forgot I had one thing to show you,” Flint said.
The words came out breathier than he wanted and faster than he normally spoke.
A click meant the door unlatched. “Make it quick,” Taylor said.
Flint opened his mouth to answer, but Mosby’s arms wrapped around him so fast that he couldn’t even get the words out. The arms squeezed extremely tightly this time, and Flint heard more snaps, followed by stunning pain.
Mosby flung him aside as if Flint were made of cloth. He soared over the steps and landed on the pavement, his body bouncing twice. He couldn’t even reach out to stop his fall.
He managed to turn his head, to see Mosby walk through that d
oor, and the door close.
Then Flint leaned back on the pavement, and shut his eyes.
A muffled gunshot echoed across the parking lot.
Flint swallowed. He had probably been wrong. Taylor had probably trusted him enough not to use the cage, and Mosby got the gun out of Taylor’s hand the moment Mosby entered the house.
Then Mosby had turned the gun on Taylor, and completed his mission in one shot.
Could the ambulance and police that Flint sent for even get onto Taylor’s property? Probably not. Not on conventional roads anyway. Would they be smart enough to go off-road like Mosby had?
Probably not.
Flint would be at the mercy of Mosby.
If he didn’t die first. If that whole thing about the Emmeline was true.
A hand touched his face, cool and competent.
Flint’s eyes opened.
Taylor’s face floated above his, eerily calm against the blue, blue sky. “Good thing I didn’t trust you,” Taylor said.
Flint tried to answer him, but couldn’t. Not that it mattered. Taylor probably thought he was in league with Mosby. It would end here.
“I never shut off the defenses. I kinda liked seeing you in that cage. If it pissed you off, you could’ve cursed me all you wanted. It wouldn’t’ve mattered to me.” Taylor grinned. “You’re one quick thinker, you know? How’d you keep him from killing you?”
“Offered to sell him my yacht,” Flint said, or he thought he said. He wasn’t really sure if the words came out of him or if he just intended them to.
He closed his eyes, and finally realized how wonderful the warm, hard ground was on the planet Earth.
Sixty-one
Six months later, Flint sat at his desk in his office on Armstrong. The building listed even more to the right than it had in the past. The shaking, which happened during the bombing while he was off-world, had caused a number of buildings in this old part of town to collapse.
Fortunately, his wasn’t one of them. But when he finally got out of the hospital and got cleared for return to Armstrong, he came home to discover nearly a meter and a half of dust covering his floor.
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