Tor glanced over at his grinning friend. "Knock it off."
"Just trying to lighten your mood." They walked a few more paces before he asked quietly. "It's the real thing for you, isn't it? I knew it was for her, the first time I saw her look at you. She doesn't hide her feelings very well."
"I don't think she can. She's too open and honest. She's made to love and be loved." It felt odd to be talking like this to Posy, but he had to say it out loud to someone, just once.
"Then why the fuck are you leaving her?"
Because he'd waited too long to see that she was right and there might be a way out. Because he'd let his bias against the Godan controlled Confederation and the military color his decisions. Because now that he'd finally seen his error, it was too late. He only hoped it wasn't too late for Wynne, too. He settled for a half truth.
"Because I love her and I can't offer her what she needs and wants."
"Have you even tried?" The blaster Posy held within the folds of his robe rose at the approach from their rear, and then fell back. "That's a good way to get yourself killed."
"You knew it was me, though you weren't paying a whole lot of attention when you walked by." She took her place between the two men. "Where are we going?"
Tor poked his chin at the open leveled building on the far side of the park that surrounded the tower. "We're going to steal a skimmer, a nice one. Riegard and Yatos's men are waiting for us at the Six Stars. They'll have all the entrances covered. I think we should go in on the roof."
~*~
Yatos was an ass, but he wasn't a stupid one. He'd immediately foiled Wynne's plan to shout out to the crowd to tell them who she was and what was happening.
"Your cries won't save you or those women," he'd whispered in her ear right before they left the hotel. "Riegard is prepared to move them in an instant. You won't be moved with them. Don't think that little recitation about who you are will save you. You're just a common thief making unfounded claims who met an unfortunate, but unavoidable, end."
Blinded by the hood tied over her face, she stumbled through the streets. It wasn't far, but she had no idea what building they were in, but her hood was removed as soon as they entered it.
"Stay out of sight until the signal is given," Yatos ordered the guards.
They bowed and moved away, leaving her alone with Yatos.
Were these really the upholders of Confederation law or were they dressed to play the part? Were they aware of the truth or did they believe they were part of an operation to snare Tor and his crew? Wynne mentally shrugged as she concluded that it didn't matter one way or the other. She would find no help there. Those peacekeepers followed their Adjutant's orders and she knew what Yatos was.
Wynne's heart pounding. Her mouth was dry. If she could feel the hands bound behind her back, they would be shaking. She was right where she wanted to be, but thinking about what you'd do or how you'd act wasn't always what happened when the real thing occurred. Not once had her imagined plans included abject fear.
She wasn't brave. She never had been, so why did she think that would suddenly change? Wynne closed her eyes and forced her body to relax. There was nothing she could do to rectify her mistake except fall back on old habits. Put one foot in front of the other and keep going. Do what needs to be done.
"You can do this," she whispered in her mind as the tube reached its destination and Yatos pushed her out into an empty hall.
Chapter 31
The hotel's circular landing platform lowered with agonizing slowness into the terminal. Once in place, it turned until the street skimmer was in the proper position for the passengers to disembark. Posy raised the hatch of the custom painted skimmer.
"I'm sorry, sir, but the lot's full. You'll..."
Tor wasn't sure if the attendant's eyes went wide because she recognized the skimmer's occupants or because Posy shot her. He hoped it was the former, but could live with the latter.
"Compliments of Honarie," Posy said to the woman as he stepped from the vehicle.
It wasn't a fatal shot. Precisely calibrated to deliver the minimal shock necessary, the stunner was a weapon commonly used by peacekeepers to subdue suspects who refused to come along quietly and was one of the weapons they'd found in the Devil's den. The victim would remain conscious but be incapacitated for several minutes, in this case, long enough to drag her out of the way. While Posy tied the woman's feet, Tor stripped off her hotel matching tunic and tossed it to Ish.
"Put this on." Ish held the lacey collar between her thumb and forefinger. She curled her lip. "It's pink."
"It compliments your complexion."
Tor and Ish spoke at the same time. "Shut up, Posy."
Ish slipped it on over her vest and shrugged it into place. "Not one word," she snarled at Posy as she turned away.
"Psst," Posy hissed after her. She turned back, teeth bared, and he tossed her the stunner. She caught it and swore at him before striding away to move their stolen vehicle and take up the attendant's position.
Posy spread his hands. "She loves me."
Tor tied their captive's hands behind her back. "How can you tell?"
"If she didn't, she'd say yes and take me home to meet the family. She's afraid they'll kill me."
Tor and Posy remained with the captive. When she opened her eyes, Tor questioned her with the promise that the truth would save her life.
"Don't know what you're talking about. I just park skimmers."
"That would be more convincing if you weren't carrying a blaster," Tor said.
"Maybe I can help." Posy placed his gloved hand around her throat. "What floor was that?"
"Fuck you."
"I'm sorry, I've already had that offer." He used his thumb to put pressure on the artery in her neck. When she began to thrash, he eased the pressure. She coughed and sputtered.
"My job is to let them in. That's all I know. I swear it," she added after the third squeeze.
Ish whistled. Tor rose to his feet. Posy pulled a roll of mag tape from one of the pockets in his robe. "Gag and incapacitate," he said. "See how much can be accomplished without killing someone?"
The driver was already slumped over the wheel when Tor reached Ish. She held the blaster pointed at the head of an elderly Godan in the back of the skimmer while the second body guard glared at her from the other seat in the front.
"Keep them up," she warned the guard.
Weapon drawn, Tor took over for her while she circled the vehicle. He lifted the hatch and motioned for the Godan to get out.
"This is an outrage," the man declared.
"Yeah, it is, isn't it? And here comes another one. Strip."
Ish released the latch on the other side. The guard lunged. They grappled and went down. Posy was there before Tor had a chance to round the skimmer. Light from the blaster flared as he reached her.
"Don't do it," Tor warned the Godan who was about to flee. "We good?" he called to Posy who was lifting the body from Ish.
"I'm not wearing that," Posy complained. "You got blood all over it."
"So? It goes with your complexion." Ish stomped around to the other door to drag the unconscious guard out. He stirred and groaned. "Oh, shut up." Blaster still in hand, she slugged him. His head lolled and she slugged him again. "Next time, check the charge on the damn stunner before you hand it to me."
"I did."
"Tell that to the dead guy," she said as she stripped the pink and now bloodied tunic off and exchanged it for the dark one the bodyguard wore.
"Save this shit for later," Tor ordered and then waved his armed weapon at the Godan. "Do you need help? Because we don't have all night."
"You're never going to pass for an old Godan wind splitter, Cap'n," Ish told him as they entered the hotel.
"It only has to get us to the door, not in it."
~*~
Wynne wasn't ushered into the room Yatos led her to. She was pushed so hard she stumbled and almost fell. She was pretty sure another
few of her facial jewels flew off and wondered, absurdly, if her face was polka dotted with the loss. As she righted herself, she looked from face to face, memorizing the features of the men.
Yatos and Riegard, she knew, of course. She would never forget the former's sneer or the latter's cold eyes. She was pretty sure the man sitting behind the table that served as a desk was Honarie.
The fat bastard description fit. With his broad, turned up nose, and beady little eyes, he reminded her of a pig. There were big men who carried a lot of weight and still managed to look powerful. This man wasn't one of them. Unless his legs were inordinately short when he stood, the man was tall. Flabby jowls replaced cheeks and hung so loosely they formed deep creases that ran from his nose to a chin that blended into the rolls of loose flesh at his neck. His body was immense and covered the back of his chair completely.
By contrast, the other man was handsome in a slick and, to her, sleazy kind of way. His dark hair was combed back from a high forehead. His nose was long and narrow in keeping with his face. A pencil thin mustache lined his upper lip. He, too, was tall, but slender. If these two were brothers, she saw no familial resemblance except for the fact that they both looked human.
"Now, now, Adjutant Yatos, that's no way to treat a lady, and an expensive one at that," the thin one said. "Please, sit."
He offered her the chair he pulled away from the wall behind him. His voice was distinctive, high pitched and almost girlish. Wynne filed that away, too. She ignored the offered chair.
"Come, come, no need to be rude. When offered a chair, a lady should sit." There was an edge to his words that made his offer an order.
Wynne felt Yatos move behind her. Not wanting to be manhandled again, she sat.
The two strangers looked her up and down, assessing the goods, she thought. The thin one walked behind her and removed the cloak from her shoulders. He ran his hands along her bare shoulders and down over her breasts. She shuddered. He laughed and leaned close to her ear.
"Like that, do you?"
She hoped he would stop there, but his hands continued down to the vee of her legs and then spread apart as they traveled to her thighs."
"What's this?"
He'd found the knife. More humiliation followed when he raised her skirts much higher than he needed to and removed the blade from the sheath.
"That was lax on both your parts," he said to Riegard and Yatos.
Riegard stared coldly at the Adjutant and laid the blame squarely at his feet. "Searching suspects is not my job."
Orax untied her arms. Wynne did her best not to shudder again at his touch. She was almost relieved when he only yanked the pins from her hair and let it fall while she rubbed the circulation back into her wrists.
"Not bad," he said. "You shouldn't have roughed her up, Yatos. It'll drive the price down. She's GCP, you say? Are you sure of it?"
"We've got time to verify that, Orax, and to make sure she is who she says she is. I've heard nothing about the House of Kronak being in mourning. We're not putting her on the market today anyway. She looks like she's been dragged behind a cart and there's no time to fix it." Honarie, too, glared at Yatos.
"You said this was the last sale," Orax argued. "The market was getting too hot."
"I know what I said," Honarie snapped, "But this one is too good to pass up. The Senator can put the word out quietly. We can write her up as a ship purchase."
Riegard nodded. "It can be done."
"And what if she's lied?" Orax asked. "I say sell her today on speculation and be done with it."
"If she's lied, then we'll keep her. You can have her first."
"What about Tor?" Riegard asked
"What about him? He's here. We'll find him or he'll find us. Either way, he'll be dead, and Yatos will be a hero." He waved his hand at the future hero. "Put her with the others for now and then go count heads. I want to know who's arrived and take note of who hasn't. We'll need to know why they haven't."
Wynne couldn't believe what she'd heard. She knew about the previous illegal transport of women from Earth, but it had been almost a year since the last occurrence. Roark believed the culprits were dead when they'd only changed their tactics.
She didn't wait for Yatos to take her arm. She rose meekly and followed him, praying silently to God.
"Please let him come. Please keep him safe. Don't let him die because I was a fool."
There were only two guards at the door of the room where the women of the Brides Brigade were kept. They both nodded to Yatos and looked curiously at her, but when he said nothing, one opened the unlocked door to let them in.
None of the women were bound, yet none of them moved when the door opened. Wynne found it odd. Ten women and two guards, three if she counted Yatos. Surely they would have attempted escape.
"Behave or I'll tie you again," he warned before her left. To the others he offered a smile. "The credits are on the way. It'll all be over soon."
No one moved until the door closed behind him. Then Wynne was surrounded by the women and their whispers.
"Don't I know you?"
"She was on the ship, wasn't she?"
"Where have you been? Why weren't you with us?"
"Oh, honey, what have you done to your face?"
None of the women looked worse for wear. All of them were modestly dressed in the Godan fashion. They seemed excited, but not fearful.
"You have to listen to me," she told them. "We have to go. Now. We have to get out of here before it's too late."
Half of them smiled at her. The other half looked cautiously at the door, but not because they agreed with her.
"Don't make waves," one of them cautioned. "It scared the hell out of us when we were taken, but since then, they've been very nice. They took us to a really nice house. We have no idea where it was, but it was comfortable. We had good food and decent clothes. They told us we'd be fine if we behaved and they've kept their promise. As soon as the ransom is paid, they'll let us go."
"You've been in the same place the whole time?" Did that mean the personal items Yatos found on Celos were planted or never existed at all? The next woman confirmed it.
"Not here, wherever here is," another answered. "They blindfolded us when they brought us here, but yes, from the beginning, we were held in the same place. I think it belongs to the tall Godan man. He's a senator, I think."
"No," Wynne told her gently. "You aren't thinking. You've seen Adjutant Yatos and Senator Riegard. What about two men called Honarie and Orax?" She described them, but none of the women had seen them or heard the names. "They're part of it, too. They arranged your kidnapping. You can't identify them, but you can Yatos and Riegard. Why would they let you go?"
They exchanged confused looks and Wynne began to wonder if they'd been drugged. Surely they would have thought of this before? One tall, broad shouldered woman at the back of the group supported Wynne's suspicion.
"I think I asked that, didn't I?" she asked, but not in an I-told-you-so way.
"How long ago were you taken?" Wynne asked.
Several answered at once and none of their answers were the same. It was no wonder they only needed two guards.
"You need to listen to me," Wynne told them again. She told them what she knew. When one of them poured herself a glass of juice from one of the two full pitchers on the table by the door, Wynne stopped her. "Don't drink that," she whispered. "It isn't safe."
Several refused to believe her. She supposed it was easier not to. Several others, though, began to nod and ask questions of both Wynne and each other.
Emily, the tall, broad shouldered one, shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs out. "I can't believe we were that stupid," she said.
"Drugged, not stupid. You were frightened and then relieved when they didn't hurt you. You couldn't think through the fear. Neither could I, but I wasn't drugged and I was with Mohawk, a friend I could trust. You had no one and you were drugged."
"So what are we going to
do about it," Emily asked, though she still sounded foggy and confused.
Wynne looked at the door. Ten women and two guards. If they worked quickly, they might be able to pull this off.
"When the guards enter the room, do they draw their guns?"
"Oh, no," one of the less perceptive answered happily. "They wouldn't want to frighten us."
"But they never come in together."
"I think we can work with that," Wynne told them.
When the lights began to dim, she knew it was time to move.
Chapter 32
When the tube doors opened, Ish stepped out first as any good bodyguard would do. Hand behind her, she flashed two fingers and then called out, "We could use a hand over here. He's fallen ill."
The two came trotting up the hall to assist. Tor took hold of the one who looked where Ish pointed and rammed the guard into the glass wall of the tube. It cracked on impact.
"That doesn't make me feel safe," Posy commented while the second guard buckled under the impact of Ish's foot to her middle.
She brought her two handed fist down on the back of the guard's head and grabbed her arm as she collapsed. "I could use a little help here, Posy."
"But you were doing so well without me." He grabbed the other arm and helped her drag the woman into the car. "Still, it is nice to be needed." He stepped out and removed his robe. "Where should I put this?"
"Don't ask and I won't tell," Ish muttered and then she looked him up and down. Various small weapons were taped to his chest, all stained to match the mottled blues of his skin. Only his arms and head were dark. "No wonder we're always out of mag tape."
"It's what every good assassin wears," he said of the weapon and tiny blue brief that covered his private parts. "I'm off to turn the lights down low. Don't get lost in the dark." He gave them a nod and took off at a trot around the corner in the opposite direction from the way they would go.
"How does he know?" Tor asked as they walked up the hall. He turned the wide collar of his borrowed robe up and tilted the elaborate turban down. Anyone looking closely would immediately see that the robe was too short and the turban too large, but it was enough to buy a few seconds' time.
Tor (Women of Earth Book 2) Page 30