The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition

by Mark Eller

  "Now she did it," Crowley muttered.

  Lieutenant Larns was suddenly the picture of hard granite. Her eyes fastened on Miss Sporlain. "Did I just hear you threaten me?"

  "I have proof of ownership," Amanda cut in. "I have legal papers that deal exclusively with Aaron Turner and his possessions. The books in question were mentioned prominently, title by title, listing publishers, publishing dates, and edition numbers. These papers were signed by the former President of Isabella, by Miss Catlow, and by a large percentage of the then-presiding assembly. The papers are legal and binding and irrevocable except by an action of the Supreme Court."

  "Is this true?" Larns asked.

  "The matter is under question," Sporlain said evasively. "Very few of the signatories, including the President, are presently in power. The current president and assembly feel the papers were erroneously conceived and seriously flawed. A faction in the assembly wants to confiscate the papers and the books."

  "Gods, I hate politics," Larns groaned. Rubbing the back of her neck, she raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Assemblywoman Sporlain, has any order been signed by a judge that prohibits Mister Turner or Miss Bivins from visiting or retrieving Mister Turner's property?"

  "I can get one in an hour."

  "Too late. One was not in force when either repossession or theft took place."

  Amanda cleared her throat. "Not that I'm saying I was there, but if you happened to wander by the offices of Judge Hennings you will find a copy of a court order giving me the power to reclaim Mister Turner's property. Now, if I were there, and if I were fulfilling that court order, then our injured friend here was in direct disobedience of that order when he struck me--er--somebody. If I were there and if I were vindictive, I would be justified in not only pressing charges against him, but also suing both him and the university for damages."

  Her lawyer hummed a little tune that matched Crowley's.

  "Come to think of it, I'm not sure about you being there," the broken-armed guard said. "I think my eyes were screwed up sideways when I first saw the leader come in the room. You don't look much like the woman in charge. Not much beyond your hair and your eyes and maybe your height and perhaps there is some similarity to your voice."

  Larns frowned. "Here is how I read it: Someone, who has not yet been identified, entered a restricted room of the university along with Aaron Turner and several others who we assume were paid guards. We can all agree on that much. Now, if those involved did not act under the authority of a court order, then they are guilty of theft of protected goods and of battery. IF they acted with a legal order in hand, then it was a lawful attempt to reacquire possessions belonging to Mister Turner--if Miss Bivins told the truth as to having proof of ownership. In the second instance, their attempt to regain possession of these items resulted in one of their party being wrongfully attacked by a misguided guard. At this point the guard was duly chastised for his precipitate actions. In neither example do I see reason for us to further hold Miss Bivins in custody since three eyewitnesses say she was not there. Miss Bivins, you are free to go."

  "I warned you--." Sporlain started.

  "Yes, you did," Larns interrupted. "You threatened me, and then ordered me to perform an illegal act. I could press charges against you for that, but I will not since we both know you have enough influence to have any charges dropped. However, since this is my case, it is my place to determine the crime, the victim, and the perpetrator. I must make my decisions based on law, not on the vagaries of politics and personal fear. In this particular instance we have no evidence that Miss Bivins committed a crime or that there even was a crime. Miss Bivins, I repeat, you are free to go."

  "You don't know who you are dealing with!" Sporlain sputtered.

  "Apparently neither do you," Larns snapped. Any patience she had previously held was now gone. "I'm not some lowly N'Ark Guardsman. I am an agent of the Isabellan Federation Bureau of Internal Security. We are not swayed by politics. Miss Bivins, leave."

  Amanda allowed a small, victorious smile to form on her lips. Taking her lawyer's arm, she nodded politely toward Sporlain and the others. "I'll be leaving now."

  "No, you will not," a voice said from the doorway.

  Larns and Crowley suddenly stood at attention. "Sir," they said in unison.

  Crowley turned his head and whispered to Amanda. "My boss. A Presidential appointee."

  "Miss Bivins, you're going back behind bars," said a man who appeared in the doorway.

  Amanda frowned. The interloper exuded the strong aura of someone possessing supreme self-confidence. She knew from years of careful observation that his suit was the absolute best, and she was willing to bet he had not a single hair out of place on his carefully groomed, if graying, head.

  "Sir," Crowley said, "we have no evidence she was involved in a crime. In fact, it is extremely doubtful there was a crime."

  "That doesn't matter," the man said. "What matters is that I just met with some of the most influential and powerful people in this country. They tell me Amanda Bivins belongs behind bars, so that is where she is going."

  "Sir, I know you did not come up through the ranks so you may not be aware that we are not allowed to be swayed by politics. We act according to the letter of the law."

  "I know that. I also know that I am the IFBIS Director and that the people who gave me my position say this woman belongs in prison. A special session of the assembly will deal with this matter in two days, and they want her there in chains. You may call that politics, but I call it listening to people who know what is what. Now, where is this Turner fellow?"

  "Still missing."

  "Good. Don't arrest him right away. He has a Talent Stone in a bag hung around his neck. That Stone is to be taken from him. Then arrest him and throw the Stone away."

  "But that will destroy--."

  "Just do what I tell you."

  Amanda turned to her lawyer. "Could you bring some of my work to me? Also, I would like my own pillow. Miss O'Malley will get it for you. The pillow in my cell is too hard for comfortable sleeping."

  He gave her a half bow. "I shall endeavor to please."

  "Thank you. Officers, you may escort me to my cell."

  Sergeant Crowley took her by her wrist. He looked depressed or disillusioned or something, but that was all right. Amanda was not disappointed. She would rest while Heidi did the real work. That girl was good. She would know what to do. The code Amanda had just passed on gave Heidi the permission she needed to take action--as if Heidi O'Malley had ever asked permission.

  Chapter 26

  "He isn't responding."

  Setting down the buffing stick, Saundra held up her hand and admired her work. The bone was bright and smooth and beautiful. It was perfect, better than any ring she had ever seen because this was permanent.

  Frowning, she shook her head at her own mental failings. Here she was, twenty-seven years old, and she had not once thought of how lovely it would be to have bare bone staring out of her hand until that fortuitous moment when she had ripped off her own finger.

  The Mister continued pacing, wasting thought and energy on a matter that was bound to take care of itself. The way Saundra saw it, Turner would come to them, or they would discover a way to reach him. One way or the other, he was a dead man so there was no need to worry about it. She found the Mister's constant pacing irritating, but then the Mister was an irritating man. He spent far too much time carping about how it had been, and what it was supposed to be like, and how Turner was to blame for all the evil things that had happened to him. He even had the gall to complain about the beautiful marks burned into his flesh. He blamed Turner for those, too. Saundra found this confusing. After all, why would the man blame somebody for making his skin so exquisitely beautiful?

  "He'll come to us," she said.

  "But he was supposed to come weeks ago." The Mister lifted a newspaper from his desk and slapped his leg with it. "Right here. It's right in here, but the bastard's ignoring
it." He thumbed through the pages until he found the section he wanted. "Personals. Aaron T. Billy S. has need of your immediate help--and on and on and on--I tell you, the man is more callous than I gave him credit for. Who would have thought he would ignore something like that? I heard he was a soft touch for the kids, but he's completely ignoring the fact that we have one of his old neighbors held prisoner."

  "But we don't," Saundra reminded him. She looked over her available nail polishes and decided to use the clear. Natural white was so eye-catching that it would be a shame to ruin the effect. Clear would hide none of the details while preserving the bone. She had to be careful about that. She had heard once that exposed bone had a tendency to rot. "I broke the little blighter's neck before the building went up."

  "But Turner doesn't know that."

  "Maybe he does. We don't know how many of the bodies were identified." She pulled her flesh back so she could apply a coat of polish where the edges of her skin normally rested. The pulling hurt, and the polish burned, but the small pain brought back fond memories of the severing.

  "We lost another kid last night," she said. As long as the man was in a mood to worry, she might as well humor him. "That makes two this week, and replacements are harder to come by. The wild ones are getting too wise to come to us."

  "So? Enough brats are available out there. We'll collect a few from other areas. If we do our own choosing, we'll get ones who might last for a while."

  "Perhaps." There. Finished. In a few minutes the polish would dry, and she could show off her decoration. "He's been out of town, you know. Been gone for several weeks."

  "Who?"

  "Turner. He's been off on some mission or other. I overheard people talking about it when I was haunting Bivin's office."

  The Mister suddenly stopped pacing. "How long have you known this?"

  Shrugging, Saundra picked up the buffer and put it away. "Known for a while."

  "And you're just now telling me?"

  She smiled. "Yes. Until today I've enjoyed your moods too much. Don't worry. He'll be back. He might even be back now. After all, you're the one who told me he's a Traveler."

  "But you never believed it."

  Saundra studied her work for a moment before answering. Her hand was gorgeous. "I believe you now. I've heard rumors and strange rumblings from a few of my special friends."

  "What rumors?"

  She shrugged. "Word is that he has a Talent Stone. Don't know if it's true. Give me a little time and I'll find out. Hey, don't worry. If he isn't back yet, he will be soon. "

  The Mister's eyes narrowed. "Talent Stone?"

  "Oh." Saundra arched an eyebrow. "You don't know about those? That's curious. Well, don't worry about it. There's ways for us to get around his Stone, and then we get to kill him." Her smile grew larger. "Just remember, I get to play with him first."

  Chapter 27

  Interesting what could be discovered while killing time, Aaron mused. As a rule, he did not make a habit of feeding birds, but this bench gave him an unobstructed view of the front door of the last Turner House he had created in N'Ark. Feeding pigeons gave him an excuse to remain seated without causing suspicion--he hoped.

  The view was interesting, though Aaron doubted anyone else would think so. Very little was enticing or entertaining about watching a large number of strangers enter and leave a building.

  Aaron, however, was interested in seeing who came and who left. In fact, he was so interested that he was not disappointed that he did not recognize one person entering the building.

  Another interesting fact: This particular Turner House possessed an extensive playground. Before the city grew up around it, the building had been a farmhouse. Since then, much of the original land had been sold off, but the yard was still very large. Aaron had called in carpenters and millwrights and designers, and between them they created a playground that was nirvana for children. However, the only children Aaron saw playing on it during his vigil came from homes up and down the street. Not one child ran through the closed doors of Turner House.

  He emptied the rest of his bag of dried corn on the ground. He had seen what he had not wanted to see. Something was rotten in N'Ark, and the smell of it turned his stomach.

  But there was nothing he could do about the matter. Not yet.

  Dusting off his hands, Aaron rose to his feet. He had something else to do first.

  * * *

  "Mister Haldrich, Go to this address and see Mistress Yamadou. She's been holding papers for Miss Bivins for more than a year. Ask for the folder, give the code phrase, open the outer seal, and remove the certified copy of Mr. Turner's agreement with the government along with a set of instructions I've included with it. Be sure to leave the true copy of the agreement in the folder. We'll need it during the real trial, but for now it needs to remain locked up and safe. The papers inside the folder should give you all the evidence necessary to proceed with this case."

  "I will have your enemies tied in knots within three weeks," Mister Haldrich promised.

  Moving away from Amanda's reception desk, Aaron stepped to the open office door and leaned against its doorframe. Sometimes his ability to teleport offered him interesting opportunities because other people did not know he was around. Case in point, never before had he seen Heidi's face wearing such a wonderfully wicked smile.

  "Do what you have to do just so long as it makes them uncomfortable. I'll do my part. I have multiple copies, and I have direct and indirect access to reporters all across this country. The agreement prevents any government official from mentioning the nature of Mister Turner's property to those without proper clearance, but when it was written up Miss Bivins made sure there was no penalty for Mister Turner or any of his employees. The wording on that issue is convoluted, obscure, and thought to be worthless. Miss Bivins told me the government's lawyers considered her so inexperienced and inept that they barely bothered reading it. So, because they were lazy, every person inside Isabella will soon know the stakes of this battle."

  "Won't that make the citizens more protectionist?" Mister Haldrich asked. "The general populace will likely take the side of the government."

  "Which one?"

  "Huh?"

  "Which government will they take the side of? It won't be long before every government in the world knows about the books and the information they contain. How much do you want to bet that other countries won't want Isabella to have the entire windfall from this find?"

  "It will mean war."

  "No," Heidi said, "it won't. There will be too many countries threatening Isabella. The government will have no choice but to capitulate to their demands." She sighed, and her face fell with weariness. "Don't get me wrong. I don't wish harm to Isabella. I love her dearly, but the country I love is governed by laws, not by arbitrary decisions based on politics and greed."

  Aaron decided to stop playing the part of a fly on the wall. While he liked the idea that these two were busy making plans, their plans did not mesh with his own. "Good afternoon."

  Shock and alarm ran across both their faces, transforming into relief only when their eyes took him in.

  "You have to get out of here!" Heidi shot out.

  "You are a very slight man," Mister Haldrich said. "I assume that means you are Mister Turner."

  "The same. It sounds like things have been happening. Fill me in, and then we'll talk matters over."

  Heidi hurried around Amanda's desk and brushed at Aaron's clothes, pushing and pulling at wrinkled material, straightening his twisted shirt, pulling at the vest he wore to hide his shoulder holster.

  "You look so disreputable. Sir, the last thing you want to do now is draw attention to yourself. There's an arrest order out on you. Miss Bivins is already in prison with a scheduled hearing in front of a closed meeting of the assembly day after next, and there's no admissible evidence against her for anything. At most, she reclaimed the personal property of her client after obtaining a court order."

 
The man held out his hand for a shake. He towered over Aaron and was as broad as a house, but his handshake was gentle. "My name is Mister Haldrich. I am a new junior associate to Miss Bivins' firm. As such, I was present when your arrest was ordered. The instructions given to the arresting officers were to remove your Talent Stone before you were informed of the charges against you. I advise you don't let that happen since moving the Stone far enough away from your person will destroy it."

  Aaron frowned. More and more people were discovering his nonexistent secret. Tossing his mental dice, Aaron waited for the numbers to come up. Unfortunately, his wait was pointless. The dice did not stop rolling. They refused to tell him if the moves he contemplated were right, or if they were as wrong as he could possibly go.

  Either way, Aaron did not care. His life was a scrambled mess. As far as he could tell, it would not get better. At this point there was very little he could do that would make matters worse. Even so, a self-destructive part of him wished he could.

  The fact was the books were his. He had paid for them and carted them into this world through the strength of his Jefferson modified Talent. Those were his books, and Amanda was his employee and almost his friend. Most of all, he would not roll over for a bunch of old money 'I Love My Power, But It Isn't Enough' politicians. He was ready to throw a tantrum large enough to give them all headaches.

  "Change your plans," he said.

  Heidi instantly went stubborn. "I don't work for you, sir. I work for Miss Bivins."

  "And she works for me," Aaron reminded her. He rather enjoyed the firm sound of his voice. It didn't carry his intruding doubts, and it perfectly matched his cold fury. "That makes me your ultimate boss. Miss O'Malley, trust me. I know what I'm doing."

  She looked at him strangely. Her eyes grew large, and her face turned pale as she moved back one step and then two. Mister Haldrich carefully moved back, as well.