“Fire!” he screamed. “Our building burns!”
As they made their way downstairs a dense black mass of smoke roiled up in the stairwell. It was impossible to see anything. Choking, eyes streaming with tears, they climbed downward, step by slow step, finding the sealed door at the bottom. But when Falanandor pushed it open there was a sudden rush of air, followed by the roar of flames. He died on fire.
Panic-stricken, screaming, Poxiciti turned away from his assistant’s smoking bulk and hurried back up the stairs. After he made it to the next level everything was burning behind him, burning on both sides, so he stumbled the only way that he could.
“This way!” someone shouted through the pall of choking smoke. He reached the end of the corridor and saw a guard holding the door open. “Come on! Hurry!”
By the time they were safely outside smoke and flames were shooting high out of the windows. The speed at which the flames were spreading was unbelievable. The screams of those who were still trapped inside was a grim reminder to the few who were lucky to have escaped. It was too late to do anything. So the building burned.
Poxiciti was confused and speechless, shocked. What had just happened was still sinking in. He had escaped, only later to pick through the smoking, charred remains to find those of his friends who were not so fortunate. He lived. They died. And his building was destroyed. Those were the grim facts. However, during the course of his investigation his suspicions, in the end, became depressingly and inescapably clear.
“There is a killer within our organization, a low and shameless conniver, a filthy collaborator, one who is the eyes and ears of Pulima Cos herself.”
Shocked gasps circulated the table, followed by shouts of disbelief. Poxiciti slowly circled the table, letting none escape his close scrutiny. Everyone was uncomfortable, especially Tosostenos, who now found herself staring into his one beady yellow eye. Perhaps to distract herself from this examination she blindly smashed her fists against the table.
“I want to kill her!”
Females were often noted for their brutal physicality and excessive displays of force, but even these inefficacious males felt the same as she. Nalanusat too, felt revulsion and rage. He began to beat his fists on the table and scream out obscenities of a like that would have given even the most ardent female observer a yellow face. Everyone seemed too preoccupied to think, though it was Inelefar who saw through all of the emotional nonsense and raised the important issue at hand.
“Poxiciti is right as always,” Inelefar said over the noisy hum of agreement. “If that repulsive thing can reach us here, why then there is nowhere we can be free of her. Instead we must cut off her information before any further disaster strikes us.”
While everyone was thinking about how exactly this might be accomplished, Borobos entered the room and was taking a seat when Poxiciti rose to face her.
“What news?”
“It is very bad,” she answered immediately, lest anyone think otherwise. “Loggernod is missing. His three guards were found dead. I can only assume that—”
“Get out!” Poxiciti screamed, tearing violently at his clothing. “All of you. Get out of here now!”
One by one they filed out of the room. As the door slid closed he was alone at last. Poxiciti slumped back into his chair. It was her most devastating attack yet. In a single night Pulima Cos had effectively wiped out his entire case against her. And whoever provided the information was undoubtedly still operating under her authority. Deep down he had no idea who this despicable infiltrator was. Nor could his closest advisors help him now. He trusted no one. All that morning he wracked his brain, his thoughts were spinning uselessly in circles, and still he was no closer to the answer.
Finally, at last, he knew what he must do.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Malanorbe, Pulima Cos’s appointed executive secretary, watched the great doors swing open and Poxiciti approach. Opening her appointment book she scanned the wet pages, then looked up and spoke with an impenetrable hardness.
“Have you an appointment?”
“No.”
“Then you’ll have to come back at another time.” She terminated his dismissal with a rough swing of her arm. “Now leave.”
“Out of my way, you imbecilic, stupid thing!”
He pushed past her, bursting into the office with armed guards trailing after him, stopping suddenly as strong hands reached out to pull him back. He was amused and disgusted, watching as Pulima Cos pushed a naked male off her ugly bulk and hurriedly dressed.
“What do you want?” she hissed.
“Only to speak with you about your spy.” With a wave of her hand Pulima Cos sent everyone else outside. Now it was just the two of them. “You are far more enterprising than even I could have imagined.”
“You flatter me, Poxiciti.”
“Despise you, hate you—yes. But flatter you—never!” It required the greatest concentration and effort just to restrain himself. To be this close to her sparked feelings that were difficult to control, though with forceful concentration he did manage to reach the point of his visit.
“Your fire last night was immensely successful. Had I your crude thinking I might have anticipated it beforehand.”
“I understand the entire building burned down. People killed. Terrible,” she said with mock sympathy.
“And Loggernod, too?”
“Yes, yes,” she sighed. “So unfortunate, but he was far more bothersome than he was useful.”
“So you had him murdered.”
“He admitted his guilt to killing Gotteram Gorta and was summarily executed for his crimes.” Pulima Cos looked at him with contempt. “That is what you were going to do to me!”
“And no doubt any knowledge he had died with him.”
“Apparently so. Important knowledge that went directly from his brains to his mouth.” Her tiny eyes glazed over and her expression grew rigid. “Now tell me what it is you want.”
“Why the same as you. To see an end to the killing. Peace.”
“Peace?” She looked at him as though it was an unheard-of word. “Why?”
“You fight me, I fight you. Where will this lead us, Pulima Cos? How many must die?”
“As many are needed to win,” she said, coldness and finality in her every word. “To see your death, your accursed followers crushed underfoot and destroyed completely and totally. Nothing would please me more.”
Shaking his head Poxiciti looked at her. “Then I see no possible solution.”
“Nor I. While you are still alive there will be no peace between us, only the bond of hatred.” Reveling in the strength of her command she admitted the truth without the slightest subterfuge. “Know that it was I who ordered your building burned down. Just as I did that I can easily do it again. I can reach out wherever you are, bring about your death whenever I wish. So now you see that I am the one who controls your very life.”
“I see only a bloated bag of hot air,” Poxiciti said harshly. “If you were not so fat I think you would float away. Very well.” He forced aside all pretenses of civility. “If we fight, then we fight to the death. Die in the defeat I hand you.”
“My fervent wish for you also. Now go,” Pulima Cos ordered.
In silence he turned and walked from her office, pushed open the main doors, then hurried down the corridor, head lowered, arms swinging faster and faster, using his good leg to get away. Outside he almost stumbled when the ground suddenly shook beneath his feet. Behind him there was a deafening explosion, shattering glass, a cloud of thick black smoke. And as Poxiciti glanced up at the burning building he was thinking and hoping for only one thing.
That Pulima Cos was dead.
Chapter Twenty Nine
“Hide me.”
There was terror in Poxiciti’s voice; his whole body trembled, shaking with fear. Yet even as he desperately pleaded for help he knew that he was taking an incredible risk by coming back here. Instead of fleeing as he shou
ld have, he had returned to city Sologcetis; worse still, to his own compound. Now as Borobos held open the door she had to decide, and quickly, what she was to do.
“Come in. Hurry.” She glanced outside then secured the door. After escorting him upstairs to her private chamber she faced him and spoke aloud her fears.
“You should not have come back here. Soldiers are everywhere. They are looking for you right now.” She went over to the window and anxiously watched a troop carrier rumble past. “How did get into the city undetected, past all the guards?”
“No time to explain. Been on the run since yesterday,” he gasped hoarsely. “First bring me something to drink, then we will talk.” He drank thirstily, draining the water jug of its contents and almost half of the second one before he slumped into a wet chair and spoke in a low, fear-filled voice.
“I need a safe place to hide.”
“Impossible! You cannot stay here,” Borobos insisted. “Midlothian and her troops will almost certainly be back to search for you. They were here twice already. Some of our people were taken away for questioning. I might be next.”
His own selfish fears blinded him to the truth, but now that Borobos had spoken, Poxiciti began to realize more and more what he had done. He had single-mindedly and selfishly acted for himself, and even worse, he had inadvertently turned the whole world against the entire ecological organization which he represented. How better to destroy a movement than by tearing down its leader? He himself delivered the killing blow. Now it was over for him, maybe the end of everything, and everyone. Sadly, he was just now beginning to realize these facts.
While he was thinking Borobos became so distressed that she tore at her garment and exploded into anger. “Do you know what you’ve done, Poxiciti, do you?”
“Yes. Killed Pulima Cos.”
“More than that. Worse. You murdered her. You, a renowned and respected peacemaker, a pacifist! Whatever possessed you to do such a crazy thing?”
“I am not sorry that I did it, only that I should have done it sooner. Had I not killed her, I believe that our own deaths were imminent.”
Borobos snorted derisively. “They are now. Her death will end in our deaths. Not only ours but the thousands who follow us. Midlothian will seek revenge. She will rail the people against us, if only to guarantee her own place of power.”
“That must not happen again,” he warned, his voice so grave that his immediate fears were forgotten for the moment. “You must act for the others, take charge. As long as the people see that you are still against the polluters and destroyers of this world then Midlothian will have no power over you.” Passionate as he was, it did not take very long for the grim reality of his present situation to sink back in. “However, my own fate is sealed. I am doomed to live out my existence in hiding, as a criminal, fleeing from one place to the next, always on the run.”
“Why did you do it, when I could have had her killed for you? You had only to order it.”
“Perhaps what I did was rash and ill-conceived,” Poxiciti admitted. “Anyway, I am not exactly sure why, but the important thing is that we are rid of her at last.”
But Borobos’s own words reflected a nagging doubt. “Are we? Is she dead?”
“She must be.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“If she survived then I would sooner be dead for having foolishly risked all and gained nothing.”
However he did acknowledge that there was at least the possibility of her surviving, though he was now thinking more of his own escape. The sound of running footsteps forced him to look outside.
“The soldiers might be out there now,” he said fearfully. “They will hunt me until they find me, and kill me. I do not wish to die yet. There is still important work to be done.”
“Then we need help.” She headed toward the door. “I will have to tell some of the others.”
“No!” Poxiciti sharply commanded, stepping between her and the doorway. His hands were trembling so badly that he clasped them tightly together. “Do that and her spy will betray us all.” Looking into her eyes he tried to speak as calmly and honestly as he could. “After all these years together you are the only one I can trust Borobos. If I am to stay alive then you must tell no one of my whereabouts.”
Borobos sighed heavily. “Only if you leave city Soligcetis right now and promise to never return.”
He nodded reluctantly. “Agreed.”
“Then wait here.”
On her return she escorted him outside to a waiting vehicle. After Borobos covered over the false bottom she drove the transport onto the main road and headed directly for the city gates. A few minutes later she saw the roadblock dead ahead.
“Get down and stay quiet!” she whispered fiercely.
One of the guards approached and waved Borobos to a stop. Her silver neck band indicated that she was a city Tykrerek soldier, obviously providing some sort of cooperative assistance to Midlothian’s armed forces. The chances were good that she wouldn’t recognize her. When the soldier spoke her voice was harsh and demanding.
“Your destination?”
Borobos tensed as a second soldier opened the back door and climbed inside. “City Sorgasoragus. Picking up an important shipment of cyrillus filters for our water treatment processors. Here are the papers.”
She examined them briefly before handing them back over, then looked toward the rear of the vehicle. “Find anything?”
“Nothing,” the voice returned. “It’s empty.”
“All right, move on through.”
Borobos had little trouble at the city gates. The guard merely glanced inside, then waved her past. Within minutes she was driving across the open plains, heading south, and the city, growing ever more distant, was now just a bare patch of light on the dying horizon.
After returning to the city the next morning everything appeared normal. Guards met Borobos at the gates, questioned her briefly, then let her pass. But at the next stop a contingent of soldiers surrounded her and brutally pulled her out of the transport. They shoved her toward a waiting vehicle, from where she was then quickly taken to the air field and loaded onto a cruiser bound for city Anaxerxes.
The first familiar face she saw was that of the ugly and brutish Midlothian herself, who was seated behind her desk, glaring up at her. When the guards removed Borobos’s shackles Midlothian dismissed them, then assumed a standing position directly in front of her.
“Where is he?”
“Who?” Borobos was deliberately evasive, though Midlothian easily saw through this feeble deception and struck her on the face as hard as she could.
“Does that help refresh your memory?” she snarled, again lifting her clenched hand and holding it over her. “Last night. You were seen leaving the city. Why?”
The sureness of her questioning filled Borobos with dread. Even so, Midlothian could exact whatever amount of physical pain she wanted. Borobos would never talk.
“To get away from your foul stench,” she quipped.
With equal hardness Midlothian delivered a second cruel blow, then retracted her fist when she saw Borobos’s stony, unrelenting expression. “We won’t get anything out of her this way.”
“Then maybe she will discuss it with me.”
There was something horribly familiar about that voice, a voice that made her whole body shiver, her skin crawl. As Borobos swung around she was shocked to see the unmistakable fat face of Pulima Cos. “You!”
She snorted humorously in recognition. “You look surprised, Borobos, maybe disappointed. Are you?”
“I am,” she hissed. “To see you still alive is no pleasure. I wished you dead, as did Poxiciti.”
“That venomous thing tried to kill me. He would have succeeded too had I not gone to speak with my aide. Unfortunately he perished.”
“Where? On your bed?” Borobos said sarcastically.
Pulima Cos pushed her face close to hers, shouted angrily. “You know where he is! Tel
l me!”
Borobos struggled under the threat of her command. Eventually she would be forced to speak, to reveal all of her secrets. She knew that the truth was inevitable and inescapable. She also knew the longer she delayed the better Poxiciti’s chances were for escaping.
“I don’t know.”
“Liar!” Midlothian’s fist thudded resoundingly off the back of her head. Strong hands seized her tightly by the arms and shook her. “Now tell us where he is or you will die in his place.”
“I haven’t seen him since yesterday. Really!” It was a small lie, a pebble of lies among a mountain of untruths.
“Really?” Pulima Cos’s voice dripped sarcasm. She returned to the desk and picked up a piece of selp paper, then glanced at it briefly. “All the way to city Sorgasoragus to pick up a shipment of cyrillus filters.” She crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it disgustingly at Borobos. “That were delivered five days ago! Your lies increase in magnitude and audacity! We found the secret compartment you used to conceal him. Very clever. Since no other city reported your presence I suspect you’ve hidden him somewhere in the desert. I assure you that we will find him and punish him for his despicable crimes.”
Just the mere thought of his public execution filled Pulima Cos with so much pleasure that only when Borobos spoke for the second time did it cut through her thoughts and provoke her to listen.
“And what is to become of me?” Borobos asked haltingly. Her own involvement in this whole sordid affair was so obvious that it left little doubt of her punishment. It was easier to admit her guilt than deny it, though at the present moment she held fast to her innocence, however tenuous it might be.
“Abetting a dangerous fugitive is a serious crime. I could have you thrown into jail.” Borobos shivered when Midlothian touched her scarred arm. “You remember my jail.”
She pulled her arm roughly away. “Only too well.”
Pulima Cos smiled grotesquely. “Why do waste your abilities helping those brainless weaklings? I could use someone like you. Someone to command her own city, to share in the riches of her people. It could prove to be a very profitable venture. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
The Battle for Tomorrow (Ilon the Hunter) Page 22