She felt her best option was to visit the Cattery again. Myajes could still be alive in one of the cells there, and if so she needed to find a way to question him.
Ideally she would have to go as an official. Not as a soldier, though, as chances were they all knew each other. She would have to go as someone who could go in and demand the right to visit the prisoners. And so, having been awake for at most an hour, she went into surgery again. This time they would remove her stripes, replacing her very skin with an artificial dermal layer that was indistinguishable from human skin—an operation that had taken her well into the following day.
They also replaced the serum-filled tooth while she slept. It really was for emergencies only now. If she used that any time before her body had fully recovered from using the last dose, the chance that her heart wouldn’t be able to take the strain was higher than fifty percent.
Khosi was dressed in accordance with what she had been told businesswomen dressed like. She wore a long blue one-piece frock, a pair of white gloves, and sensible yet attractive shoes. She also carried a leather handbag in which were contained a number of items of various descriptions that she considered vital for this mission.
Her shuttle brought her to Earth close to a farmhouse, in much the same way as it had the last time she had landed. But whereas it had been part of her plan to be spotted the last time, this time she had ordered that the shuttle’s scanners be used to ensure there was no humanoid life in the immediate vicinity. It was safe and deserted, and the shuttle landed in the remains of a cornfield that had suffered badly in the rains of a few days ago. The ground she put her feet on was still soggy, but it was secure enough to support her weight, and she was only two steps away from a solid-looking footpath towards which she quickly made her way.
From the footpath it was less than a hundred yards to the main road and from there, no more than a mile to the nearest buildings on the outskirts of the city. She moved at a brisk walk. There was no point in hanging around. Already the shuttle had engaged its engines and was leaving the scene, getting away before any witnesses did appear.
It was close to one o’clock in the afternoon local time when she entered the city. She had trouble believing her eyes. She had been hoping to find a car hire company for her jaunt to the Cattery, but there was no one about. In most cases, though, the houses looked as if the occupants had simply dropped whatever they were doing and had bolted as if the very whips of Lophsiokola, an evil deity of her people, had been on their tails.
There wasn’t a car in sight; the population must have taken them with them when they had fled. Ideally she wanted to hire one, and she wanted to do this legally so that there was no possibility of awkward questions being asked of her. But with everything deserted, she was almost definitely going to have to steal one. Somewhere down one of these streets there must be a car that had been left behind—a vehicle she could take. With the owners not around, it was unlikely she would have to worry about the vehicle being reported stolen, at least until after she had the information she was seeking.
When she did at last find a suitable car, five turnings later, it was parked outside a large house with thick iron bars and several large planks of wood added to its windows and doors to keep the Herbaht out. There was every sign that the house’s owner might still be there, but Khosi no longer cared. It was clear to her that even if the crime was reported, nothing was likely to be done about it.
She climbed into the driver’s seat of the vehicle and overrode the security code to start the car. It took no more than seven seconds. The vehicle’s computer was a virtual antique in comparison to what she was used to. Besides, she had taken a course in how to override security systems such as this one before she had even set foot on the planet. Her main problem was that she didn’t really know how to drive such a vehicle. It took her a few minutes to get a hang of the controls before she could get it going where she wanted. Twice she only just stopped the vehicle before it rammed something. At least she thought she had stopped it, unaware that the car’s automatic collision sensors were on or even that it had such a device.
For a moment she thought she saw a glimpse of someone watching her from one of the boarded up windows. She ignored whoever it was as she left the vicinity. Soon she was back on the country roads to the west of London and making her way back to the Cattery.
It had been two days since she had left the compound of the Cattery, and on that occasion she had done so in the back of a truck without windows. Nevertheless, the location of the Cattery was known to her because she had scanned the area in question long before her first visit.
She turned off the road at the right point, ignoring the plants that seemed to block the way through to the bridle path, not because she knew how they worked but only because she knew that they must work.
It was an awfully bumpy road. It had been left deliberately so to make the route seem that much more suited to horses than vehicles, and the recent downpour had made it even worse. At every turning pointing in both directions were cameras reporting her position back to the Cattery. As well as the cameras, there would also be detection equipment that she couldn’t see. According to her own tests, the type of sensors that the humans used just weren’t capable of detecting a weapon with the sort of sophistication of the one she had hidden in her handbag. No doubt she would soon find out if she was right.
Other than three figures in each of the watchtowers that overlooked the compound, the Cattery seemed dead. Khosi herself had spent five days in that place, and during that time she hadn’t been taken out for exercise once, so perhaps the quietness shouldn’t have surprised her that much. Besides, if the humans were doing their job properly they might already have wiped out the last few remaining inmates. Although if that was true, then why would they still need guards in the watchtowers?
At least no alarms had been triggered. The soldiers in the Cattery might not know who she was, but she was approaching via the front of the place and making no attempt to hide herself from them. She looked for the whole world as if she had every right to be exactly where she was.
Every space at the car park of the Cattery seemed to be reserved for one officer or another. This place wasn’t used to guests that didn’t actually work at the facility. In the end she found a small group of four spaces that were marked ‘Reserved for visiting officers.’ Khosi wasn’t sure she qualified as an officer in her guise as a bureaucrat, but it seemed there was nowhere else suitable in the car park. She parked her car haphazardly next to the only other vehicle already there. Climbing out of her car, she couldn’t help but notice that this other car had a large scratch along part of one side, as if it had lost an argument with the trees on its way here.
She stood before the large gates of the Cattery and waited. Should she knock, or should she just wait for them to open the door for her? There was a camera pointing straight at her and it followed her every step, so there was no doubting that they knew exactly where she was.
As she considered her options, her tongue found the new serum-filled tooth. She hoped she wouldn’t need it, feeling that she had probably already pushed her luck too far by using it the last time. Just as she had been boarding the shuttle for this trip, she had received the report concerning the fate of her partner. Indeed, it had come as quite a shock to be told that her partner had died during his mission to kill the Greater Matriarch all because the serum had proven to be too much for his heart.
She stood outside the large wooden gates of the Cattery and composed herself while she waited. She even caught herself clearing her throat. They were large gates, big enough for a very large truck to pass through easily when both were opened. For convenience though, one of the large doors also had a small human sized service door cut into it.
A minute or two passed and no one opened the door, and she began to doubt her position. Her throat felt a little dry. She had some water back in the car, but she didn’t want to go and get it for fear that it might be misconstrued by th
ose watching. Perhaps they were waiting until she knocked on the gate?
She sighed inwardly, stepped forward, and knocked three times on the small inset door, and then she stepped back again and glanced irritably up at the camera. She was beginning to wonder if they were going to make her wait all day when the small inset door finally opened and a soldier stepped through the door.
‘Can we help you?’ he asked her sternly. He carried a laser rifle loosely and apparently unthreateningly in his hand; however, her training warned her that it could be brought to bear on her in less than a second if the soldier felt the need. It would take her longer to reach her pen.
One thing she was sure of was that she had to act from a position of authority from her first sentence. ‘I am Cynthia Fitzgerald-Cornwallis.’ There was something about double-barreled names that tended to add to the potential authority of the speaker. At least she felt there was, hence why she had chosen this name in the first place. She took a small identification card from her handbag. Moving slowly so as not to alarm the soldier and at the same time acting confidently, as if the soldier was no threat because he wouldn’t dare shoot a representative from the ministry, she then showed it to the guard. It was an accurate copy in every way of ministry identity cards. ‘I’m here to represent the Bureau of Feline Affairs. I want to see your commanding officer.’
‘Might I ask what you want to see him about?’ the soldier asked. He swung his rifle at a slightly less threatening angle, perhaps happy that she apparently had a legitimate reason to be here.
Khosi did her best to look down on him, which wasn’t easy since he seemed to be a little bit taller than she was. Her voice was insistent. ‘I’m here to discuss that with your commanding officer, so please take me to him.’
The soldier didn’t argue. He simply turned and reentered the compound and then waited by the door, holding it open for her to enter after him. She did so with the air of one who was tired of having her time wasted. She was trying to exude authority, trying to make it obvious to the soldier that he was an underling.
The compound was pretty much as she remembered it from her stay here, although she hadn’t really had that good a view through the window because Lara had hogged it to herself all the time. Mentally she worked out what purpose each building was most likely to serve. The office of the commanding officer was nowhere in sight; it was probably hidden behind one of the larger buildings.
Just inside the main gates were two smallish buildings, each with large reflective glass windows which allowed those inside to see out but not vice versa. Clearly, she thought, these were the administrative buildings where all guests would have to sign in. So it didn’t surprise her all that much that the soldier who had let her into the compound directed her to enter the one on the right.
‘Lady Fitzgerald-Cornwallis,’ the soldier said as he entered the building, saluting the Sergeant who sat there as he spoke. Behind where the Sergeant was sitting were three other guards. They were watching a bank of monitors carefully; each monitor linked to a camera that showed everything that might use the bridle path road.
As she had suspected, they had been watching her from when she had passed those fake plants that guarded the turnoff all the way along that road that seemed to twist quite unnecessarily in places to the car park. They must have watched her climb out of the car and approach the gates. They would have been watching her every second as she stood outside waiting for entrance. The whole thing made her feel a little angry, and she decided the persona she had taken would be angry too. ‘Just Miss, there’s no Lady,’ she corrected. Although Lady might seem to give her more authority, it might actually prove to be counterproductive, and besides, correcting the soldier gave her an excuse to express her anger.
‘Pleased to meet you, Miss.’ The Sergeant stood and offered his hand in friendship, beginning, ‘I’m Sergeant….’
‘I don’t care who you are!’ Khosi bit out angrily, also ignoring the proffered hand. ‘Just take me to your commanding officer.’
‘Do you have an appointment?’ the Sergeant asked. He seemed to be ignoring the anger in her voice; perhaps he was used to this sort of treatment from guests.
Obviously she didn’t have an appointment; the idea that she might need an appointment had never even occurred to her. She thought fast and kept the anger in her voice as she replied, ‘I’m with the Bureau of Feline Affairs, and I don’t need an appointment. Take me to him.’
The Sergeant seemed to hesitate for a moment.
Khosi sensed she definitely had the upper hand, and she decided to use it, commenting angrily, ‘Oh, never mind, I’ll go and find him myself.’ Then she headed back through the door.
She stood outside the door for a minute as if deciding in which direction she should try first, whereas in fact she was waiting for someone to follow her out of the building and show her the way. She knew roughly where the Commander’s Office might be from her previous time here, but it would still look better if she was being escorted across the compound than if she tried to make it by herself.
It was the Sergeant who appeared. He looked at her and commented, ‘Follow me, miss.’ He sounded both irritated and resigned to the task.
‘That’s more like it,’ Khosi replied, and she fell into step behind the soldier.
She would hate to admit it, but crossing the compound in the company of this Sergeant brought back very many unpleasant memories, not least because of the smell that she had thought she’d left behind her on the day that she had made her escape. Her sense of smell might not be as powerful as that of a Herbaht, but the stench in the compound was impossible to miss. She wondered how efficiently the Cattery had been working since she had left. The place felt very quiet, as if cells might be empty now, but there were still plenty of soldiers moving around and the Sergeant seemed to insist on saluting everyone they passed.
Eventually they came to a small wooden building of about the same size as those that stood by the main gates. The architect didn’t really seem to have thought much about its design either. Here was a chance to make a nice authentic-looking log cabin with a porch and everything, and instead it was a cuboid eyesore with a slightly pointed roof and far too few windows, sitting on a series of low concrete slabs to protect the wooden structure from the parasites that lived in this area.
‘Is this it?’ Khosi asked, surprised. The veil of her persona seemed to slip away as she asked the question, and she worried that the Sergeant might notice the difference.
‘This is it,’ replied the Sergeant simply. He knocked on the door and entered.
Khosi waited outside for a moment, twiddling her thumbs. She could hear voices inside, the Sergeant’s and someone else’s, no doubt the Commander’s. She began to feel paranoid. She had had surgery to improve her hearing, but she was unable to make out the individual words. What were they talking about in there? She decided that she should just walk in. After all, the sort of person she was portraying wouldn’t take kindly to being just left out here and ignored.
Then, just as she had resolved to take matters into her own hands and enter the building anyway, she was beckoned in through the door by the Sergeant.
She didn’t wait for confirmation. She entered the office, commenting coldly to the Sergeant as she passed, ‘You may return to your post.’
The Sergeant didn’t move except to step to one side to allow her entry into the office.
It was a standard sort of office setup, containing a large wooden desk behind which sat Lieutenant Colonel Norton. Other than a large computer monitor, the desk seemed to be covered with all sorts of papers, many of which had the imprint of an official stamp. There was also a filing cabinet just behind the desk, as well as two chairs for guests. Finally, there was a pot plant just behind one side of the door and an umbrella stand complete with umbrella on the other.
Khosi took a seat in one of the chairs without waiting to be asked, and without even looking around she said firmly, ‘Thank you, Sergeant, you may go.’
The Sergeant still didn’t move. It was clear that he was waiting for confirmation from the Colonel before he moved.
‘You may go, Sergeant,’ the Colonel commented calmly. His eyes looked at her in a way that unnerved her. She began to feel that that stare was a challenge.
‘Yes, sir,’ the Sergeant replied, and he stepped out of the office, closing the door behind him. A moment later his footsteps could be heard heading back towards the main gate.
‘My Sergeant tells me that you’re from the Bureau of Feline Affairs, is that right?’
‘That’s right,’ Khosi replied without hesitation. She considered showing him her fake identification, but decided she would wait until asked. She didn’t want to invite unnecessary scrutiny.
‘So, what can we do for you?’ asked the Colonel. His voice remained calm, but his demeanor told her that something was bothering him.
‘A couple of things,’ Khosi told him. She was only really interested in Myajes, but feared that broaching just that subject might look suspicious. ‘Firstly, there was a breakout by inmates of this prison camp two days ago. I want to know what steps you have taken to recapture all of those involved.’
‘How did you know…?’ He stopped himself.
‘In the Bureau of Feline Affairs, it’s our job to investigate these things even when you do your best to cover up your own incompetence. So what are you doing to recapture them?’
‘Well, there were eleven cats involved in that little debacle. Most were killed at the site of the escape.’
Khosi knew from her own experience that there had actually been twelve in the vehicle, but she kept that minor detail to herself. ‘And those that weren’t killed?’
‘We’re following the clues we have. Sometime before the inmates got out of the truck, another car stopped there. We think they might have been following the truck for some reason. It’s clear that they killed the guards and then released the prisoners, taking at least two of the inmates with them. We think the culprits were members of a musical group.’
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