Breathing a sigh of relief that he wasn't looking for her, Wynne turned to walk away. She wasn't taking any chances. His room number would be enough. In turning, she jostled against a man who was calling the Senator's name. He looked down to apologize as she looked up. Looking away, she tried to hurry past, but she was too late. His hand on her arm prevented her escape.
"Piatchu." Adjutant Yatos's greeting was far from friendly.
Behind her, Senator Riegard spoke. "What did you call her?"
Wynne was pinned between the two men with nowhere to run. She caught a glimpse of Truca's frightened eyes before she turned her head away with a slight shake of denial. She could only hope the girl got the silent message to move on. She didn't dare look for Ish.
"My apologies Senator," Yatos said. "This woman is a known thief and I am authorized by my superiors to place her under arrest."
In an unnecessary and exaggerated display, Riegard patted down the front of his smooth and meticulously unwrinkled tunic and cried, "My purse. This woman has stolen my purse."
With his free hand, Yatos flashed his credentials at the maître d'hôtel behind the desk. "We need a room where the Senator can make his statement in private."
"Of course, of course." The man blanched and swayed, and closed his eyes, offering a string of apologies and swearing loudly that nothing like this had ever happened before. This was a respectable hotel.
Wynne was bent forward across the counter. Her hands were pulled behind her back. When she was bound, Yatos leaned over her and whispered in her ear.
"When I'm done with you, Alamandria will pay, too."
Her mind was racing, not only with fear for herself, but for the others. If she was recognized as Councilor Albermarle's mordata cosma, they would send someone to the suite and the others would be found out. The maître d'hôtel was already issuing angry and excited orders to his staff, a few of whom Wynne was sure were security. Would Ish get there in time to warn Chubo and Nix? Or would she choose to follow the senator and Yatos and send Truca to deliver the message? Tor and Posy would come. Mohawk, too. She was sure of that, but would they come in time to see where she was being taken?
Her heart raced along with her mind. She was barely aware of the chair she was shoved into or the man who ushered them to the room being dismissed.
"Where's Tor?" Yatos's shout made her jump.
"Who?" she asked, not because she didn't hear, but because nothing but her fear was registering.
Yatos's response was a slap that sent two of the tiny jewels that dotted her face spinning across the room. She watched as they hit the bookcase and fell to the floor. Her cheek stung and her eyes watered, but she refused to cry.
"She knows him. She was seen with him at Alamandria's."
Oh, oh. Were she and Tor seen before he closed the curtains on the platform? No. She had to trust that Tor would have noticed any watchers that night. Yatos was using the same lie he had on Celos.
"Where is Tor?"
This time she clamped her jaws shut and deliberately refused to answer. Yatos's slap sent several more jewels flying. Wynne didn't see where they landed. She only saw stars.
He asked again, but before he could raise his hand to strike, Wynne screamed. If she was going to be beaten, she wanted every snobby money whore in this gaudy, overpriced hotel to know it.
If she wasn't so frightened, Yatos's stunned look might have been comical. She thought it best to quit before he got over the shock. She stopped mid-scream and spoke to the Senator, since Yatos was precisely the asshole she'd pegged him for.
"I don't know this Tor. If the Adjutant saw me in the alley at Alamandria's, he saw me with my Perithian guardian and a woman named Gisela. She took us to Alamandria. My guardian arranged it. That's all I know."
Riegard didn't comment. His mind appeared to be elsewhere, lost in thought until Yatos's insistent yammering brought him back.
"Tor is here." The way Yatos changed the location convinced Wynne his previous claim was a lie. "We followed him. He lost us at Ammon's Tunnel, but I knew where he was headed. We have his ship and the man he stole it from. He has identified this woman. She's with Tor. I know it."
It was another lie. Beso and Till were snoring away when she saw them. To call him on it, though, would prove she was there.
"We have no time for this," the Senator said impatiently. Honarie has called and is waiting for me. Orax has made the delivery. Tor is your concern, your only concern, not mine. This creature is useless. Get rid of her and if you embarrass me in such a way again, you will find yourself at a desk in the Ferdon system. For the rest of your life," he added for emphasis.
Wynne's mind was stuck on 'Get rid of her'. Riegard said it so casually like something he said every day. Maybe he did. He'd murdered or had someone murder Senator Plincoff, too. She opened her mouth to speak, but had to close it again to swallow. She found her voice when Yatos yanked her from the chair.
"Do you know who I am?"
"No, and I do not care," the Senator answered.
"You should." It was so hard not to keep babbling. Her silence paid off. Plus, it gave her a minute to rehearse the changes. She shouldn't have a problem. She and her sister repeated it with hilarity, over and over, when Mira first met Roark. Of course, her life didn't depend on it then.
"I'm a busy man. Say what you have to say."
Wynne took a deep breath and began. "I am Wynne, Second daughter of the House of Donazetto, North American Continent, Earth; adopted sister of Roark, First Commander and now Governor of Sector Three; adopted daughter of Tadin, Master of the Honorable House of Kronak of the Godan Nation, People of Mishra, a Founding Planet of the Galactic Confederation.” She blew out her breath. "I'm pretty sure Tadin is a member of the High Council, too."
"She lies."
She ignored Yatos and appealed to the Senator, who was now looking at her with interest. She repeated what she'd told Tor. "I'm a princess of the House of Kronak, I'm human, and I'm GCP." This time she dropped the probably. "I also know what you're up to."
"Aha. How could you know this?" Yatos smiled as if he'd caught her in a trap.
Wynne had had enough of the pompous little ass. "Because I was on the Romer II. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why ten women on their way to the Bride Market got kidnapped."
"And why would that be, Wynne of the House of Kronak?" Riegard asked. Wynne had seen sharks with a friendlier smile.
"You're holding them for ransom," she lied, "and I know what I'm worth."
"Fortunately for you, so do I." Riegard motioned to Yatos. "Get her up and get that cloak around her. I want her fully covered. I'll have my man call for a chair." He started to turn away, and then changed his mind. "On second thought, Make sure her head is covered and walk her there. There's nothing suspicious in a peacekeeper marching a felon through the streets. I want her seen. And don't damage the merchandise any more than you already have," He added as an afterthought. "Unless you have to." This last was a direct warning to Wynne.
Yatos's nasty smile said he liked the idea. "I'll make the arrangements, Senator."
It was embarrassing to be marched along the main thoroughfare to a side street three blocks away. Wynne was sure her parents and Nona were rolling over in their graves. In her youth, Mira had been the wild one and her younger brother David had some serious run-ins with the law before finding his way, but neither had ever been formally arrested. She tried to console herself with the fact that this was a sham, that being flanked by four uniformed peacekeepers with their puppet Adjutant in the lead made it easier for Tor and his crew to find her.
It helped until it dawned on her that finding her was what Riegard wanted. Wynne's plan had been fulfilled, but in the wrong way. She was still the bait, but the trap was set for Tor.
Chapter 30
Tor was watching the third small street skimmer leave the roof. Like the two before it, the skimmer and its occupants; driver, older Godan male, and his two bodyguards; flew off as if le
aving the city's central district. Anyone casually watching the takeoff would fail to notice the skimmer's change of course and its return to land on another hotel rooftop only three blocks away.
They would have attracted less notice had they flown directly to their destination. There would be nothing suspicious about a group of wealthy Godan men getting together for an evening of cards and drinking. These men were amateurs at subterfuge.
Tor had flown his ship and its crew through some pretty dangerous skies over the years. They'd outfought raiders, outmaneuvered peacekeepers, outwitted warlords, and in some cases, most notably the Macrin, outrun death by the skin of their asses. He'd faced it all with calm determination and without fear. He relied on caution, careful planning, and trust in his crew.
He'd felt the same when he'd flown the Silver Eagles for the Galactic Confederation. Fear had no place in the cockpit. You trained with your squadron until you could fly the maneuvers in your sleep. You took your ship into battle with the belief that fate had the final say. You would die because it was your time, and not because fear replaced clear thinking.
Battles weren't won by one man on a rampage, yet the minute he received Truca's panicked call, Tor was so overwhelmed with fear for Wynne that he was ready to go to war. Alone. He wanted to kill anyone who stood in his way.
Fortunately, by the time he reached their borrowed suite, practice and experience kicked in and his emotions were under control. Sort of.
Posy was there to greet him with a more detailed report than Truca's "They got Wynne! They dragged her away! The All Knowing help me, I thought they'd come for me, too. Ish sent me back to the room and said to call you."
"She's being held and questioned in a small conference room. She's still in the hotel. Yatos and Riegard are in the room with her, so she's safe for now," Posy insisted.
"A boot licking lecher and a murderer? I'm supposed to take comfort in that?"
"No. Take comfort in the fact that the walls are thin enough that witnesses can hear everything if it gets too loud. Wynne's holding her own. There are two of Riegard's bodyguards outside the door, but peacekeepers are all over. Ish faded back in case someone points her out as the lady's Companion. So far, they haven't made the connection, probably because when Yatos met her she didn't have one."
Tor took the information in, but before he could decide what to do with it, Truca interrupted.
"We can't stay here." She took another bag from Chubo and stacked it on the trolley. Already overloaded and off balance, the pile leaned dangerously to the side. "Ish said to get out. There are peacekeepers hovering around the reception area waiting for orders. Those orders are bound to send them here. Where do we go?"
Tor turned to the trolley and began to unload. "Did you get in touch with Mohawk?"
Posy flicked the small unit attached to his shoulder with his finger. "These com's work fine on the ship, worthless over distance. He was halfway back before he got the call. He should be here shortly. I told him to avoid the main entrance. I don't know how much use he'll be if it comes down to a fight. He sobered up fast enough when I told him what happened, but..." He let his shrug finish the sentence.
"He only has to be sober enough to get this lot back to the ship."
"No," Truca objected. "I want to stay, Tor. I can help."
"That's Captain," Tor corrected. He used the title as a reminder of who was in charge. "It's back in the trunk for you. Chubo and Nix can squeeze into mine."
Finding what he was looking for, he carried the bag to the table. He stripped off the uniform he'd borrowed from the laundry and began to redress in the clothes he'd carried back with him from the roof. In his haste, he hadn't bothered to change. "I'm not leaving you behind," she said stubbornly and added belatedly, "Captain."
"Did I tell you to?"
"No, but..."
"Then shut it and listen. We're going to see this through, Truca. Wynne was right. We're a crew and that's the way we'll stay. It's a big galaxy out there. We'll find our place in it." Tor pulled the weapons bag open and began loading up. He hefted two gray canisters and satisfied, attached them to his belt. "I need you three to ready the ship. Get her moved as close to a bay door as you can. Nix, you plot a course to Sigmund's Tunnel."
The little Huka nodded, but without confidence. "What about the belt?" she asked. Her hands flexed and then knotted together with worry. Nix knew her limitations as a navigator. Plotting a course around or through the meteoroid field that hung between Shudish and the tunnel would be stretching her abilities.
"Straight shot through the middle." It was a dangerous ploy to fly through that large a field of hurtling rocks so large they could crush a ship the size of Sky Hawk, but he'd flown it before. He was hoping whoever followed them hadn't. "I'll be at the helm when we get there," Tor assured Chubo, who was about to object. "Your job is to get us out of the gate."
"Chubo can do that, Captain."
Tor put his hand on the smaller man's shoulder, but his eyes were for Posy. "I'd never ask you to do something you can't."
"There's a difference between can't and won't." The Basker stayed where he was, his back against the door, where he could listen for approaching footsteps or act as the first line of defense should the peacekeepers arrive with a pass key. He bowed his head instead of his body. "I will avoid what I can and do what I must."
"What about Wynne?" Truca asked. "She's coming with us, isn't she?"
She wasn't, but Tor couldn't allow himself to think about it much less discuss it. He had to keep his head clear and emotion free.
"Let's get her out of this mess first," he told her.
Posy stepped away from the door and reached for the lighted plate beside the frame. "Mohawk," he said before he touched the square.
Mohawk had his fist raised, ready to pound, when the door opened. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You didn't even ask who it was."
"I heard you cursing when you left the access tube."
"Stupid woman and her stupid yapping putzies," Mohawk muttered. "Where's Wynne? Why haven't you got her back?"
Tor didn't look up. He finished strapping the holster of the handloader to his thigh. "Ish has eyes on her. She's still in the building. I need you to take these three back to the ship."
"Not fucking happening." The old warrior was already rummaging through the bag. He frowned at his uniform shirt when the weapon he'd slid into a nonexistent pocket fell to the floor. He'd forgotten the shirt wasn't his. "She's my responsibility. Her safety is my duty. I shouldn't have left her in the first place. If you won't get her, I will. And don't give me your I'm-the-Captain shit. I'm a foot soldier, not a pianzee fucking fly boy. I answer to Roark."
Tor grabbed the old warrior's wrist. Mohawk snarled and tried to pull away, but his strength was no match for Tor's.
"That's exactly why I need you on the docks." Tor's voice was low and firm, and weighted with importance. "You can get them safely aboard and handle anything that might come up. You can be trusted, Mohawk. Wynne's rescue might depend on that."
Some of the tension leaked out of the old man's body. He nodded in understanding and then looked up. "Fine. I'll go, but just so we understand each other. If any harm comes to her..."
"It won't, not if it takes my last breath."
Posy's com vibrated. "Go," he said, his voice a mere hum of sound.
"They're on the move," Ish's voice reported from the unit. "Hadrid's Harem, Posy, they have her cuffed and they're walking her down the middle of King's Way. Her head's covered, but it's her. It's that pugish, Yatos, and four guards. Riegard's taking a chair. Now's our chance. We could take them easy. Get your asses down here."
Mohawk and Posy looked ready to roll. Truca, Chubo, and Nix looked ready and eager to answer his call to arms.
Tor almost made the call. His blood boiled at this latest humiliating display. To do this to a woman such as Wynne! Every muscle in his body cried out for him to charge down to the street and destroy the bastard. He'd already st
arted for the door, when he stopped, finger in the air. The others waited, bodies tensed, for him to order the charge. He hit his com.
"Stay, Ish. Don't move. They're waiting for it. You need to go back and see what's happening in that room full of peacekeepers."
"But..."
"Do it." He turned to the others. "Get out of here. Now. Take them through the back way, Mohawk. Use the freight tube. Feel free to grumble and swear about it. A man who makes noise has nothing to hide."
No one questioned the order. The trunks were loaded and bags were stacked. Tor and Posy followed them out and left Mohawk muttering by the access tube used for freight.
Ish checked in. "They're gone, Cap'n. It's like they were never here, but the boss man is wringing his hands and watching the tube rise. I'm betting a couple of them are on their way to see you."
"We're sorry to have missed them. Make your way to the Tower. We'll meet you at the foot. And Ish? Be careful."
The Tower was a two hundred-foot tall work of art, a spire woven of metal roping that wove its way to the sky. There was an access tube that would take tourists to the top in limited numbers and there was always a long line. At night, it was lit from within in a way they made it appear to be created from strands of sparkling gems. It was a popular place for people to meet. All the tourists would be looking up, the lovers, looking at each other.
"You know, if things don't work out and we have to lie low, this wouldn't be a bad place to pick up some extra credits. We could start a wine 'em and dine 'em service." It was the polite term used for the male prostitutes who plied their trade in Imperial City. Men weren't the only ones who came here looking for fun. "The way those old ladies are eyeing your ass, you could make a fortune."
"They're probably scandalized by all the weapons." Weapons weren't illegal in Imperial City. Body guards were always armed, but they were usually more discreet.
"Not scandalized yet, but they want to be. They're speculating on the size of the weapon you carry in your pants."
Tor (Women of Earth Book 2) Page 29