by James Axler
The voice behind the lights now took on an amused tone.
“You have an admirable grasp of the situation. If you keep your arms away from your body—I know you have weapons on your person—then I’ll make the light a little more bearable.”
“Of course,” Doc said, complying with the wishes of the voice.
The lights blinked out, leaving a red-glow afterimage both on Doc’s retina and in front of the dimmed bulbs. Everything else was momentarily black as Doc’s pupils reacted to the sudden change. Within a few moments he was able to see once more, aided by the ambient light that bled from the ground floor of the buildings on one side. Presumably where the owner of the voice had emerged.
And now Doc was able to see him—a small, slight man in a long white coat, his hands clasped behind his back. He was unarmed, but any fleeting thoughts Doc may have had about his own weapons were stilled by the two thickset men in black fatigues that lurked at the slight man’s rear, well-preserved submachine guns clutched in fists so large the blasters seemed like toys.
“You must excuse my caution,” the slight man said, stepping forward. “We weren’t expecting any of you to show such initiative at this stage. But since you’re here—” he indicated that Doc follow him “—I may as well explain it to you. You have the brain to grasp it, after all.”
Doc had absolutely no idea what the man was talking about, but figured that if he just kept quiet, then his captor would let it all out without needing to be questioned.
“Very well,” he said simply, walking slowly toward the lit building and the two menacing sec men. After all, he seemed to have little choice.
R YAN WOKE SUDDENLY. He tried to rise, but found himself restrained by a wiry arm across his chest, a hand clamped across his mouth like an iron band. He tensed and prepared to fight.
“Ryan, me. Triple red.”
Jak had spoken before Krysty had roused herself, and before Ryan had even had a chance to flex the muscles that lay under the albino youth’s restraining arm. Jak removed his hand as he felt Ryan relax.
“Fireblast, Jak, what the fuck are you doing?” Ryan whispered hoarsely.
“Not have choice,” Jak said tersely, before outlining to Ryan and the now awake Krysty the situation they faced. He was able to tell them the sec setup in their part of the building as he had made a brief recce after finding Doc missing and before coming to them.
“One could search, more than one be found.” Jak shrugged.
Ryan nodded. He could see the albino’s point. The sec could be evaded singly—Doc’s continued absence proved this if little else—but the group as a whole would be too much of a risk. But he didn’t want to risk another of his people going missing.
“You come here first?” he asked.
Jak nodded. “Leave J.B., Mildred till spoke to you.”
“Okay…” Ryan ran the possibilities through his mind. “There’s only one way we can play this.” He swung himself out of bed and dressed quickly, strapping on his weapons. Krysty followed his lead, watching him all the while.
“No way we’re going all out on this,” she said shrewdly. “Just what have you got in mind, lover?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” He moved to the door. “Let’s get Mildred and J.B.” He tugged at the door and stepped out into the hall with no attempt to disguise his actions. Looking back, he could see the bemusement on Jak’s face, although he noted that his intent was dawning on Krysty. “C’mon,” he said loudly, “J.B. and Mildred need to hear this.”
“OF COURSE, you know that the baron is an advocate of exploring many social systems and experiments that were performed before skydark set back the cause of civilization by several centuries, thrusting us back into a dark age,” the slight man said as he ushered Doc into the building. One of the sec men had preceded them, while the other lurked at their rear. Their proximity caused Doc to do little except nod sagely at this juncture.
Inside, the building was cleaner than many Doc had seen during his time in this age. It also carried with it a smell that was alien outside a redoubt: bleaches and disinfectants, chemicals, the sterility of cleaned and recycled air…its olfactory impression was of nothing more or less than a medical clinic. Whatever happened in here, it was of a nature that made his flesh crawl. An impression that was only magnified by the white lab coat worn by the slight man.
Long corridors, lit at regular intervals, resembled nothing so much as the tunnel he had recently vacated, the blandly closed doors only reinforcing this impression. The only real difference between above- and belowground that he could see was the row of windows that peppered the corridor in both directions, facing the courtyard.
The slight man piloted him along the corridor as he spoke.
“What we do here is to try to advance some of the old theories about the enhancement of the physical. Grafting, stem-cell therapy and so forth. Of course, we’re hampered by the fact that our facilities are of a poorer quality than those of our predecessors before the nukecaust. And information about their results and their methods have been—how shall I put it—patchy in some particulars. Papers were particularly susceptible to the vicissitudes of a nuclear winter. Perversely, the comp records have survived a little better. The baron has put a lot of time and effort into finding as much old equipment as possible. We’ve even managed to find some audiovisual documentation that has been preserved. This, as you can imagine, has been invaluable.”
“Quite,” Doc murmured. The man in the lab coat babbled on, and sounded more and more to Doc like the kind of whitecoat who had prodded and poked him on his arrival in the late twentieth century. He found himself seized by the insane desire to take the man and repeatedly smash his head against the wall; to push it through the nearest window and rip out his throat on the jagged edges of the glass. Insane not because he felt that the man didn’t deserve it. Insane because the two sec thugs in front and behind him would riddle him with shells before his grip had even tightened on the whitecoat’s throat.
Still, the whitecoat prattled on.
“You know, when I look back, I find it odd that the kind of work that we’re doing now was once considered bad. And so soon after it was hailed as the salvation of humankind. It seems very odd, the manner in which opinions were subject to the moral worldview of the day, without once it being questioned as to whether those fashions in themselves were the transient option, and not the thing on which those opinions were focused being the transient thing…as it were. Am I making sense to you?”
The whitecoat turned and fixed Doc with a beady glare that was almost myopic in its intensity. Doc was quite unsure as to what would be the best way to answer him. He wanted him to reveal more, even though he felt nauseous at the direction they were headed.
As it happened, Doc needed to say nothing. The whitecoat, it would appear, welcomed the chance to exercise his garrulous nature.
“Of course I’m making sense,” he affirmed. “You are an intelligent man. I know that. The intel reports from the palace are circulated to all section heads, to fully appraise them of what is going on. Your group aroused no little interest from all of us, I’ll have you know. Quite the subject of debate among us,” he added with a small smile. “I dare say it’s chance that you ended up here first, although the connection to the palace is something only my section has directly. However, your alacrity at making a move isn’t something we could have easily forecast. And on your own, too.”
“I like to keep people on their toes,” Doc demurred.
The whitecoat stopped and turned to him. “Ah, the ever-questing mind that seeks the same from others. I like that.” He stuck out a hand.
Doc hadn’t seen a gesture like that for many a day. Part of him wondered if it were some kind of test, perhaps even a trap. Certainly, the sec men loomed in a little close, their faces betraying nothing but their body language yelling alarm and alert.
Doc’s eyes met those of the whitecoat. Was that sincerity he saw in those orbs? Did this man not rea
lize that Doc wanted little more than to hit and run? Oh, well, at least he might find out more this way.
Mindful of the sec men and their possibly anxious trigger fingers, Doc extended his hand with caution. As their palms met, he suppressed a shudder at the cold, clammy flesh that pressed on his.
“You, of course, are Dr. Tanner. But allow me to introduce myself. I, too, am a doctor. No diplomas here, of course, but I grace myself with that title considering the work I do. Andower. Dr. Harold Andower at your service.”
“Charmed,” Doc murmured in a voice that was anything but.
MILLIE AND J.B. woke at the same moment, coming alive and apart in a tangle of limbs. They had drifted into an easy sleep after making love, a sleep that was dark, deep and dreamless.
As they pulled themselves apart and tumbled from the bed, unthinking hands grasped for weapons, and before the hammering had ceased they had their blasters to hand.
“J.B., Mildred, wake up. We need to talk.”
Both were now completely awake, but were baffled by this turn of events. They looked from the door to each other, J.B. a little myopically as his spectacles were where he had left them a few hours previous.
Ryan’s voice? That loud?
“Come in,” J.B. said in a level voice, but without lowering his blaster. He peered across at Mildred, who nodded her understanding. Ryan wouldn’t normally do this in such a situation. Coercion was a possibility.
“No, come out here,” Ryan replied. “We need to talk. Krysty and Jak are with me.”
Again, a look passed between them. No mention of Doc.
“Think it’s just them?” J.B. asked.
“Ryan would use the code if it wasn’t,” Mildred replied. “He was particular about who was out there. There’s something wrong, and he wants Arcadian to know about it.”
“Figure you’re right,” J.B. said, lowering his blaster. “Guess we should get out there.”
“John,” Mildred said quietly as he started toward the door.
“What?” He stopped, puzzled.
She looked him up and down.
“Might be better if we put some clothes on.”
K RYSTY AND J AK had looked at each other and shrugged as Ryan hammered on the door. He had made no effort at concealment, and was now making a hell of a lot of noise. As he yelled through the bedroom door, a patrolling sec man appeared at the end of the corridor, his subgun held across his chest, pointing down. But despite the passive stance, there was little doubt that he was ready to move into action if necessary. Behind him, the lights came on in darkened library as Ryan’s actions were noted.
When he had finished, the one-eyed man stepped back, taking a look at the sec man before turning his back and winking at them. It seemed this was exactly the reaction he had expected and hoped for. A glimmer of his game plan became apparent to both of them.
By the time the bedroom door opened, the building was bathed in light. Two more sec men stood behind the solitary guard who patrolled this level; footsteps and voices from beyond indicated that Ryan’s actions had stirred a hornet’s nest of activity.
From the quirk at the corner of his mouth, this was the reaction he had wanted.
“Ryan, what the—dark night,” J.B. breathed, taking in the situation. “Arcadian’s going to love you for this.”
“That’s the idea,” Ryan said quietly, then added in a louder voice, “Doc’s missing. No way he would have gone off on his own, not without telling Jak. That bastard Arcadian is behind this, and I want to know why.”
The sec men at the head of the corridor broke formation and Sec Chief Schweiz strode through them. His sleekness was ruffled by being rudely awakened, and his temper was as disheveled as his usually immaculate appearance.
“You don’t talk about the baron in that way,” he snapped, his bark punctuated by the clicking catch of his blaster, an obvious warning. Ryan had figured he was edgy and prone to the big gesture, and this just confirmed his notion. Now to play the man.
“Listen, boy,” Ryan said carefully, with just the right edge of disdain, “I don’t talk to the shit carrier, I talk the man whose bucket he holds. You get the baron here, like a good little man, and mebbe we’ll see what’s going down.”
Schweiz’s eyes, no longer hooded by the shades he had worn earlier, were small and piggy in the glare of the lights. They narrowed, and the corner of his mouth quivered as he fought to control his temper.
“You push too far, son,” he hissed in a voice as tight as the line of his lips. His face was drained of blood and he quivered with an impotent rage. “You’re here because—”
“Because they’re my guests, Schweiz, and as such you will have some common courtesy with them, no matter how misguided they may be.”
Arcadian’s voice boomed out from behind the sec men with an authority that made them part ranks instantly. Schweiz turned to face the baron, who strode through to stand firmly in front of the sec chief. He was dressed in a long robe and, Ryan noted, was barefoot and without any kind of weapon. Confident or stupe—a thin line, perhaps.
“Sir, these people have left their rooms, one of them has left the area and is presumably spying—”
“Has been taken by your men, you mean,” Ryan interrupted in a deceptively mild tone.
Schweiz turned back to him, trembling with rage. “Don’t try to cover for your activities by moving the blame onto someone else,” he snarled.
Interesting, Ryan figured. He might be highly strung and barely holding his impulsiveness in check, but he was more perceptive than he seemed. He would need watching carefully.
“My dear Mr. Cawdor,” Arcadian said in a smooth tone, trying to defuse the tension in the situation, “I can assure you that I hold no responsibility on the disap pearance of Dr. Tanner. It seems obvious to me that his overwhelming curiosity has got the better of him, and he has wandered off to try to discover more about my collection. It was evident that he held it in great fascination. It says more about the slackness of my men—” with which he shot Schweiz an acid glance that made the sec chief tremble with an even greater rage “—than it does about any intent on his part that he has managed to wander off undetected. All quite innocent, I’m sure. Rest assured, my men will do all they can to locate him, and they will do so in a manner that won’t be hostile or threatening…or could be construed as such,” he added with a glare at his sec chief.
“Of course, sir,” Schweiz said through teeth so gritted that Ryan could almost hear them grinding.
“Doc may spook easily if your boys go after him,” Ryan said, casting a meaningful glance at the sec chief, “so mebbe it’d be better if we went looking for him ourselves.”
“No, think nothing of it,” Arcadian said in an easy tone that was belied by the steel in his eyes. “You don’t know the building like my men. It would be easy for you to lose yourselves. Far better if you return to your rooms and get some rest. By the time dawn breaks, your man will be back with you.”
“He’s one of ours, and perhaps it was wrong of him to wander off like that. Least we can do is sort out our own mess, save you the bother,” Ryan explained. It was worth trying, but he could see from the faint flickering of the baron’s expression that it wasn’t going to work.
“I assure you, Mr. Cawdor, that Dr. Tanner will be found and returned to you unharmed.”
He held Ryan’s gaze. Finally the one-eyed man said, “Okay, this time we’ll do it your way. If Doc wandered off of his own accord, fine. If not…”
“Then I will have to answer your questions. But I can assure you there will be no need. Now…”
The baron turned away, as if dismissing them, and directed the gathered sec to form a search pattern throughout the building, and to relay this to their fellows via the handsets. Ryan noticed that he did this without going through his sec chief, who stood at his shoulder, without even noticing, in truth, that the man was there.
Looking back, Schweiz knew that Ryan was aware of that, and shot him a loo
k of pure venom before following the baron as Arcadian strode off, directing his men as he went. It was noticeable, however, that the sec man who had previously patrolled the landing was now stationed firmly at the head of the corridor.
“He doesn’t trust us that much,” Krysty murmured.
“He wouldn’t,” Ryan agreed, “but at least he doesn’t think that we were making an organized break.”
“Does that matter?” Mildred asked. “You still landed Doc right in the shit.”
Ryan shook his head. “No, I don’t figure that. Arcadian knows Doc is a loose canon. I reckon he’s the one that the baron’s most interested in, truth be known. If we’d gone after him ourselves from the start, then it would have looked like we were all in it. Now, he figures Doc is curious and we want to play his game.”
Mildred nodded. “Which we do until we find out what it is,” she said slowly.
“Exactly.”
A NDOWER HAD HIS ARM around Doc’s shoulders in a manner that the old man found a little disconcerting. They were walking slowly along the corridor, the sec men eyeing them uneasily. They look very much how I feel, Doc thought. Despite that, he tried to focus on what the self-styled Dr. Andower had to say.
“I must say, when I heard you were coming back here, I was quite excited. Your brief time here only added to the intel that Arcadian had gathered.”
“So your baron had an interest in us before we arrived here? How could that be?” Doc questioned.
Andower looked puzzled for a moment. Then an expression of understanding blossomed. “Ah, I see what you mean. No, you misunderstand me, Dr. Tanner. When I say that your presence added to our already existing—well, Arcadian’s already existing—intel, you have to understand that this wasn’t specifically focused on yourself or your fellow travelers. Although I have to say, you have been both busy and conspicuous over recent times. No, what I mean is this—Arcadian, as part of his plan to reintroduce a civilized manner to these benighted lands, makes it his business to gather information on anything that occurs that may denote a superior mindset at work. Using traders—notorious for their inability to stay silent—or any travelers as a source, along with those forays our own people make, he has built up a not inconsiderable database of information.”