Oath of Fealty

by Larry Niven

  Stevens shrugged.

  "I could let your investigators find that file," Bonner said. "Or show it to you here. Want to see for yourself?"

  "All right, I'll just call that bluff," Planchet said. "How much-"

  He stopped because MacLean Stevens was laughing so hard it was hard to hear anyone else speak. "He really got you," Stevens said. "What difference does it make whether he tells you a story or has MILLIE tell you? You think the computer won't lie for him?"

  "He can't have made up that many stories in advance-"

  "He doesn't have to make up anything in advance," Stevens said. "Don't you understand, he's talking to that goddam computer every second. The computer's in his head, Councilman!"

  "Christ. And that's what my kid was up against ... "

  "He almost beat us," Art Bonner said. "If that makes you feel any better."

  "It doesn't."

  "He did beat us," Art said almost musingly. "Our goal was a capture ... Mr. Planchet, what can I say? Nothing we do will bring Jimmy back. But you, you're helping the people who really killed him! The Fromates. And I can't believe you're actually on their side."

  Planchet sat heavily. "I thought about that already," he said carefully. "I thought about it a lot. Damn it, I don't know what to do." He pounded his big fist into a bigger hand. "All right, Bonner, what is it you want?"

  "I want this strike ended," Bonner said. "I want your cops out of my city, and my people back to work. I want things the way they were before-"

  "Before," Planchet said. "We can't do that. But I guess we can stop hurting each other. Anyone tries that, it'll be political suicide. But Sanders and Rand are wanted, and they'll stay wanted."

  "Done. You'll never see either one of them again. Mac, take your police and go. Mr. Planchet, call off your strike and I'll start flushing the iceberg tub. And put my people back to work. All right?"

  Planchet's lips tightened. He looked from Bonner to Stevens, then at the iceberg on the screen; and slowly he nodded.

  Done. Break out the champagne.

  XX. PERSUASIONS

  Successful and fortunate crime is called virtue.

  -Seneca

  "Sure you don't want a driver, Miss Churchward?"

  "Thank you, no, Sergeant. I don't have far to go." She smiled warmly and climbed into the roadster. Like all cars in Todos Santos, it was company property; individually owned cars didn't make sense. It was cheaper to keep a fleet and lend them to residents.

  In theory, no car was reserved for any particular person. In practice, certain specially equipped cars were used by a very few top executives, and Barbara considered the little Alfa Romeo "hers." She got in and adjusted the seats and mirrors carefully, then touched a switch inside the glove compartment. Testing relay. MILLIE?

  ACKNOWLEDGED. RELAY OPERATIVE.

  Her implanted transceiver's range was fairly short, but the car had a powerful relay system, good anywhere in line of sight to the large antenna on top of Todos Santos. She nodded in satisfaction, then checked each gauge. She started the car and listened attentively to the engine. Eventually she felt ready to face Los Angeles traffic and put the car in gear.

  She spiraled up and up to the top of the ramp and out into the greensward around Todos Santos, choosing a route that led through a wild area. It wasn't actually wilderness: the native chaparral of Southern California is ugly brown most of the year, and the Todos Santos residents didn't want to look down on that; after some experimenting, the company's agronomists developed shrubs that stayed green with minimum artificial irrigation. The resulting greensward was pleasant to drive through, and the deer and rabbits and coyotes seemed to like it a lot.

  The city's walls towered high above her. When she reached the edge of the park, she saw that the picketing Angelinos were gone. Stevens and Planchet had acted swiftly once they made the basic agreement. Up above, though, the Todos Santos residents hadn't removed their banners. THINK OF IT AS EVOLUTION IN ACTION.

  Link to Bonner.

  "Here I am. Pretty busy."

  "Just a note. That banner has to go. It can't be helping our relations with the Angelinos."

  "Guess you're right. I'll take care of it. Anything else?"

  "Not right now. Bye."

  The apartment building was modern Spanish, mostly concrete and tile, built over an underground parking structure and around a bricked patio. There was a parking place right in front, sparing her the drive down a narrow ramp.

  A thick arched passage led to the interior court. Unlike most such apartment buildings, the swimming pool was in a separate area so that the brick-floored inside patio seemed cool and inviting, rather than being a glare of concrete deck and chlorined water. Genevieve Rand's apartment was on the second floor, up a flight of stairs and along an iron-railed balcony.

  Barbara rang the bell, and was annoyed when there was no answer. Confirm time of appointment.

  MILLIE didn't answer either.

  Blast. Out of range. Too much concrete between me and the car. Oh, well. I'll keep ringing, I know- The door opened, Barbara and Genevieve eyed each appraisingly. She's not bad at all, Barbara thought. Kept her looks and figure. Maybe just a touch plump, but so is Delores. Tony must like them that way. "Barbara Churchward. We had an appointment-"

  "Yes. I-I'm not sure we have much to talk about."

  "I've come this far. You may as well hear what I have to say." She's certainly nervous. Because Tony's wanted? Are the police inside? That could be it, better watch what I say- "Yes, won't you come in?" Genevieve stood out of the way, then closed the door behind when they were inside.

  The apartment was neat. Expensive furniture. Plants. Little touches of color here and there, all very tasteful. A door was open to a hallway and at the end of that was another room, larger but not so trimly kept, with books and toys and a sewing basket visible on a big smooth-topped table. "Very nice," Barbara said.

  "Would you like anything? Sherry? Coffee?"

  "Nothing, thank you."

  Genevieve indicated a chair. She hovered nervously until Barbara sat. "What can I do for you?"

  Barbara made a snap decision. She couldn't talk here; not until she knew what was wrong. "I'd like to take you out to Todos Santos."

  "Oh. Is-is Tony there?"

  "I couldn't say. But just before he disappeared, he made an appointment with you-"

  "Yes, that's right."

  "Actually, he wanted me to keep it for him, even before the big flap with the police."

  "Oh. Then you're-"

  Barbara laughed. "Great heavens no! Oh, I like Tony, but no, we're not involved. No, Mrs. Rand, it's just that he asked me to, well, to negotiate with you. It seems he didn't trust himself."

  "Negotiate? But to do-"

  "For you to join Tony, if that's what you want. Of course there are problems just now. We could discuss all this better out there-"

  Genevieve didn't say anything.

  Ha, Barbara thought, you still want to live with Tony if I'm any judge of expressions. I'm also certain we're not alone. If we're going to talk, we'll have to get out of here. "I really wish you'd come with me. We could be back in an hour, and there's a lot to talk about." Barbara stood and went toward the door. "Please-"

  "That'll do it."

  It was a man's voice. He was just stepping out of a closet. Barbara turned toward him. "My, officer, wasn't it uncomfortable in there?"

  Genevieve laughed hysterically. "Officer! He's no policeman, he's-"

  "Shut up."

  The bubble of Barbara's amusement popped and was gone. Not police?

  There were more people now. A not unattractive but certainly large woman came out of the playroom. Another man came from a side door in the same hallway. This one carried some kind of two-handed firearm with a fat barrel. Barbara had seen one like it before, but couldn't remember where. One of Colonel Cross's men? It didn't matter. It was a submachine gun, and that made these desperate people indeed.

  MILLIE!

 
; Nothing.

  Damn these concrete walls! "What do you want?"

  "We want you, Mizz Churchward."

  "Miss," she said automatically.

  "Traitor," the woman said. She came over to stand very close to Barbara. "Pig."

  "Leona," the first man said. "That's enough."

  "Just how am I a traitor?" Barbara asked. If I can keep them talking- The woman hit her hard across the mouth. Barbara stepped back gasping. The woman hit her again, first with her fist, then slapped her, forehand, backhand. "Now do you understand?" Leona demanded. "You're nothing, pig. Nothing. You'll do what we want, and you'll talk when we want you to, and you'll be polite. Understand?"

  Barbara spat out pieces of a broken tooth, and felt bloody saliva run down her chin.

  The hard hand struck her again. "I asked you a question, pig."

  "I understand."

  "All right. Let's get them both out of here," one of the men ordered.

  Leona was holding a black cloth hood. She put it over Barbara's head, then took her arm and began pulling her. Barbara stumbled along somehow. The whole side of her face throbbed, and it was hard to breathe inside the bag. Her nose was stopped up, and she continually swallowed salt blood.

  "And keep quiet, understand?"

  "I understand."

  Something seized her left breast and squeezed horribly. Barbara gasped with pain.

  "I didn't say you could talk. Now shut up and come on." The hand squeezed again. Barbara stumbled and nearly fell. The woman lifted her by her breast, and Barbara felt faint from the pain. She was half dragged until she could recover her balance.

  MILLIE? MILLIE ... MILLIE ... God where are you? MILLIE-

  ACKNOWLEDGED.

  O thank God. Record. Security alert. Link with Bonner.

  "What is it?"

  "I'm being kidnapped. Present location Genevieve Rand apartment."

  "I We're on our way."

  "Going down some stairs now. Blindfolded. The stairs face north, we're turning right, right again-I'm turned around, I don't know which way I'm going. We're going down again, I suppose into the garage under the apartment. Art, I'm scared."

  Nothing.

  "Art!"

  "Get in the car and lie on the floor. That's it. Right there."

  MILLIE-Art--someone- Nothing. 0 boy. Hang on, no panic, they'll find me. Art will take care of that. And then it'll be my turn with that sadistic bitch. She's probably a Lesbian. Wonder what she's afraid of most? Maybe rats. I can have her put in with a whole cage full of rats. Spiders, too. Whatever she doesn't like. MILLIE- She heard the car motor start. The car began to move. It seemed to be going slowly, turning slowly, moving slowly. It tilted sharply and continued to move.

  Up the parking ramp. MILLIE

  ACKNOWLEDGED. "You faded on us, sweetheart. Look, you keep trying."

  "They have me in a car. We'll be driving away. Away from my car. Away from the relay."

  "Keep telling us which way you're going. Don't stop transmitting."

  "I'm scared ... We turned left at the top of the ramp. Now we're moving, faster. There's no gear shift. Electric automobile. Running smoothly. Good springs and shocks I think. We're turning right -are you still there?"

  "Still hear you. Keep telling us."

  "Now we're going again. Turning right. Uphill. Uphill and turning. A freeway ramp! Leveling off. Accelerating. We're on a freeway.

  Art-"

  Nothing.

  O Lord.

  MILLIE. MILLIE. MILLIE.

  "The Montana Street

  entrance," Bonner said.

  "Only one on ramp there; and it goes south," Colonel Cross said. "They're headed toward us on I-5."

  "We've got to find them," Bonner said.

  Cross nodded crisply. "I want every car with an implant relay out on that freeway. Cruise up and down and keep on Miss Churchward's frequency. MILLIE will tell you if she gets anything."

  "Right," Lieutenant Blake said. He spoke softly into a telephone handset.

  Bonner lifted his own telephone. "Sandra, locate every portable transceiver we have and get them into cars that don't have relay units. I want to blanket this city with relays. Let Security know when you've got them ready to roll. If we get enough cars out there, one of them has to hear her-"

  "I already thought of that, Art," Wyatt said. "It's being done. Anything else?"

  "No, I have Colonel Cross with me and he's handling it. We're taking a lot of your cops. You'd better cancel leaves and call in some off-duty guards."

  "Already on that, too, chief. Leave the routine to me. I'll run the city. You find your lady."

  "Yeah. Thanks." Bonner put down the telephone. MILLIE.

  ACKNOWLEDGED.

  Anything from Miss Churchward?

  NO NEW COMMUNICATION WITH CHURCHWARD.

  Listen hard.

  INSTRUCTION NOT UNDERSTOOD.

  Tony Rand hurried past Delores without seeing her and without waiting to be announced. He charged into Bonner's office. "Art, I just heard-"

  It hit him, then. Before he'd only been worried. Now he felt a cold hand in his guts as he saw Bonner and Colonel Cross and Lieutenant Blake sitting grim-faced, not doing anything.

  Not doing anything. Which meant there was nothing to do. They'd have thought of all the obvious stuff-"Is it certain they took Djinn?" Tony demanded.

  Colonel Cross glanced at Bonner, then nodded. "Yes. We have our people in Mrs. Rand's apartment now, and neither she nor the boy are there."

  "Zach's with his grandmother," Tony said. "I talked to him on the telephone before the jailbreak and he said his mother was sending him off for two weeks."

  "That accounts for him, then," Cross said. "And of course Mrs. Rand could have gone voluntarily with the kidnappers-"

  "Batshit," Tony said.

  Cross shrugged.

  "They got Barbara at Genevieve Rand's place," Bonner said. "They were obviously waiting for her. And Genevieve has been fairly chummy with Professor Arnold Renn-"

  "She wouldn't have helped them kidnap Barbara," Tony said. "She can be a screwball, but she's not that screwy."

  Bonner spread his hands. "Makes no difference anyway," he said. "Join the club. Sit down and wait."

  "We should be doing something-"

  "Agreed. What?" Bonner demanded. "Let me tell you what we're doing now. Maybe you will think of something."

  Rand felt a quick surge of hope, but when Bonner finished talking, Tony couldn't think of a thing to add.

  "Central, this is One Zed Niner. We have a weak transmission from Sweetheart. I say again, we have a weak transmission from Sweetheart. Our location is 18400 block of Staunton Avenue

  . We have no directional antenna, but we can cruise until signal peaks. Instructions?"

  "Stay out of sight, One Zed Niner. Do not let Playmates see you. We do not wish Playmates to know we have means of locating them. I say again, get your vehicle out of sight and stay there. Continue to monitor transmissions from Sweetheart. We will attempt to focus an antenna on your vehicle so that Sweetheart will be able to communicate directly with us. Do you understand?"

  "Understood. Will comply. One Zed Niner out."

  "What the hell are your troops doing?" Bonner demanded.

  "Take it easy," Colonel Cross said. "And stop snapping at us. We're sending the cars out there, including hers. We had contact with her, and she wasn't moving, and it's only a matter of time before we get through to her again. For God's sake, boss, keep your shirt on."

  "Yeah. All right. I'll try."

  "Now about that other matter. Do I call in help?"

  "No, Colonel. Not unless you think you have to. I'd rather we did this ourselves," Art Bonner said.

  Amos Cross grinned. "So would I. But I do warn you, the LAPD SWAT team is one of the best in the world. They haven't lost a victim yet."

  "And you don't think our people can do it?"

  "If I thought that, I'd insist we call in LAPD," Cross said. "We've got sharp
troops. But of course they don't have the kind of experience regular SWAT outfits get."

  How could they? There hadn't been a barricaded-with-hostages case in the history of Todos Santos. Am I right to take chances? With Barbara and Genevieve? "Tony, you get a voice in this decision. Should we call in LAPD?"