by Timothy Zahn
He waited until Adamson had disappeared around a turn in the path. Then, crossing the cabin, he pulled open the latrine box. "Clear," he called softly. "Come on up."
A few minutes later, the two blackcollars were back in the cabin. "What did they want?" Jensen asked as he disentangled himself from his rope.
"Adamson says they came to town to check on the sensor pylons," Foxleigh said, running a critical eye over the other. Jensen's voice was firm enough, but his face seemed a little pale and he was definitely favoring his side. Hanging down there for an hour wrapped in a rope harness couldn't have done his injuries any good. "They came up here because their IR sensors seemed to show more than one person present and accounted for."
"I was afraid of that," Jensen said, coiling the rope and setting it on top of the wood bin. "Is there someplace out there where Flynn can wait for Adamson's morning shuttle service?"
"Assuming they don't shut down the whole region," Flynn warned. "Anyway, I'm thinking maybe we should forget Denver and try the cross-country route."
"Relax—I don't think they'll be back tonight," Foxleigh said. "Doc says they have to check the rest of the pylons and then hotfoot it to Athena. Here, I'll take that," he added, holding out his hand as Flynn pulled his old pistol from his belt.
"What's happening in Athena?" Flynn asked, handing it over.
"No idea," Foxleigh said, putting the gun carefully in his own waistband. "But I get the feeing they're expecting a show from your friends tonight."
Jensen grimaced. "With us on the sidelines," he growled. "No way we can get out tonight, I suppose?"
"Cars aren't back yet," Foxleigh reminded him. "We may want to send Flynn down to Adamson's place overnight, though, just in case. The question is what we're going to do with you. You're not in any shape for a long, bumpy car ride."
"No, but I don't think we've got much choice," Jensen said. "If they come back with a full team, there's nowhere around here I can hide where they can't eventually chase me down."
"Unless you go—" Flynn broke off.
"Unless you go where?" Foxleigh asked.
"Unless I go somewhere outside this valley and go to ground," Jensen said, his eyes sending a warning look in Flynn's direction. "And I'd better get started while I've still got some light."
"You're not in any shape for a long walk, either," Foxleigh said firmly. "At least, not alone. I'm going with you."
"What, with your bad leg?" Jensen asked, gesturing toward it.
"I'll match my leg against your ribs any day," Foxleigh said. "Besides, the minute you're out of sight of the cabin and town you'll be completely lost."
"You might be surprised," Jensen said.
"Or you might be," Foxleigh countered. "There are a lot of ways to get lost, sidetracked, or stuck out there."
"I could try to get you to cover tonight and then come back for my rendezvous with Adamson in the morning," Flynn suggested.
"You'd get just as lost together as either of you would get separately," Foxleigh said. "What are we still arguing about this for? The subject is closed. I'm helping Jensen to cover. Period."
Jensen and Flynn exchanged looks. "He kind of sounds like Lathe when he's in one of his moods, doesn't he?" Jensen commented.
"He does a little," Flynn agreed, clearly not at all happy with the situation.
"All right, Toby, you're on," Jensen said, looking back at Foxleigh. "When do we leave?"
"As soon as we've organized some provisions," Foxleigh said, a sense of relief rushing over him. Relief, and an odd sadness. "Give me a hand putting these travel packs together, will you?"
Twenty minutes later, the two men slipped through the door into the gathering dusk. Ten paces from the cabin, Foxleigh led them off the path that led to town and set off eastward through the wilderness.
As they headed down a small rise, he turned for one last look at the place that had been his home for so many years. Flynn was visible in the doorway, standing straight and tall and motionless, watching them leave.
He knew he would never see either the cabin or the boy again.
* * *
Three o'clock in the morning.
Bailey stood at the hospital room window, hands clasped behind his back, staring out at Athena's muted streetlights and quiet buildings. So the blackcollars hadn't attacked after all. True, there was no particular reason why they should have, especially given that they were still supposedly waiting for Poirot to deliver the data on the defense laser threshold. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd expected that question to have been a ruse, a ploy to lull him into a false sense of security while they hit the place a day earlier than expected.
But they hadn't. So where did that leave him?
"Colonel?"
Bailey turned. The interrogator he'd brought over earlier in the evening was leaning over the bandageswathed figure in the bed, his ear close to the boy's mouth.
The boy. Mentally, Bailey shook his head, his mind flashing back to that fever dream Poirot had spun for them back in the conference room about Aegis Mountain and weapons caches and secret military forces.
Whatever this Phoenix was that Reger and Silcox had created, it wasn't even close to being an army, and all the weapons and blackcollars in the world wouldn't change that. This kid, in particular, was barely even out of college—
"Colonel!"
"Yes, I'm listening," Bailey growled, feeling his face warm with embarrassment as he angrily shook the random thoughts away. Fatigue always made his mind drift that way. "What is it?"
"I think you'll want to hear this for yourself, sir," the interrogator said, sitting upright and gesturing to the chair at the other side of the bed.
Frowning, Bailey sat down. The kid's eyes were closed, his breathing slow but steady. "Go ahead," he told the interrogator.
The other nodded. "Rob?" he called softly. "Rob? You need to tell our other friend here what you just told me."
For a moment the kid didn't move. Then, his head turned slightly, his eyes reluctantly opening to slits.
"She knows," he murmured. "She knows the way inside."
Something with cold feet took a walk up Bailey's spine. "Who knows the way?" he asked, leaning close to the boy.
"Anne," Rob said. "Anne does."
"Anne Silcox?"
"Yes," the boy said. "They told her. You know. The blackcollars."
Bailey looked up at the interrogator. "Ask him the way into what," the other suggested quietly.
Bailey looked back at the injured prisoner. "What place does Anne know the way into?"
"You know," Rob said, his voice almost too soft to be heard. "Aegis Mountain."
Bailey's mouth was suddenly very dry. Could Poirot have been right after all? "Do you know the way in?" he asked.
"No," Rob said. "Just Anne. And the blackcollars."
Bailey locked eyes with the interrogator. "This had better be straight," he warned.
"It is," the interrogator assured him. "I never prompted him."
Bailey looked back down at the half-sleeping kid. So there was a way in after all, a way the blackcollars had apparently found.
And at this very moment, across town, General Poirot was working with the tactical group who were trying to come up with a plan to capture one or more of those same blackcollars. Coincidence?
Abruptly, Bailey got to his feet. "Keep at him," he told the interrogator as he snagged his coat from the hook. "Find out everything he knows, and I mean everything. I'll send over a couple more men to assist."
"You don't need to do that, sir," the other assured him. "I can handle it."
Bailey gazed at him, an unpleasant tingle whispering through him. Whiplash ... "I'll send a couple more men to assist," he repeated, his tone making it an order. "And you aren't to breathe a word of any of this to anyone but them and me. Clear?"
The interrogator's lips compressed. "Yes, sir."
Three minutes later Bailey was in his car, heading through the silent Athena stree
ts toward the Security building. Yes, Poirot had been right about Phoenix and Aegis Mountain. The question now was, how had he managed to be so right?
More to the immediate point, did this wonderful revelation come with hidden strings attached?
He didn't know. But he was damn well going to find out.
CHAPTER 13
It was still dark when Jensen's mental alarm clock went off. Four o'clock in the morning, or near enough.
Time to go.
For a minute he lay still on the hard ground, listening to the night sounds around him playing counterpoint to Toby's slow, even breathing. The man was asleep, with the deep oblivion of a man who'd spent a couple of hours the evening before tromping through unbroken wilderness on a bad leg.
In a way, he hated to leave the old man out here alone. Unlike the Plinry blackcollars, it didn't look like Toby had been getting the periodic low-level Idunine doses that had kept their muscles and organs young while letting their outer appearances age normally. It had been a long, hard trek, and it would be an equally hard trek back to his cabin.
But where Jensen was going, he was going alone. Carefully, wincing as his ribs flared in protest, he rolled halfway over and started to get to his feet.
"Going somewhere?" Toby asked mildly.
Jensen frowned toward the dark lump a couple of meters away. He would have sworn the other was asleep. "Thought I'd see if I could find a place that was open for breakfast," he said.
"You've found it," Toby said, sitting up. "This bush right here's the best place in the Rockies. Here—
special of the day."
He held something out; a ration bar, Jensen discovered as he took it. "You're a pretty light sleeper," he commented as he tore off the end of the wrapper.
"So are you," Toby said. "Luckily for me, you're also very predictable."
"In what way?"
"For starters, this little attempt to ditch me," Toby said. "That was what you were intending, wasn't it?"
Jensen grimaced. "I appreciate all your help, Toby," he said. "But where I'm going it isn't safe for you to go."
"Why not?" Toby countered. "Didn't you and the other blackcollars close down what was left of Aegis's defenses the last time you were in there?"
So there it was, out in the open at last. "Very good," he said. "Where did you hide your telescope? I never saw it in your cabin."
"I packed it away in a rotten log after I sent Adamson and Trapper out to look for you," Toby replied.
"You're good, too. I didn't realize you'd spotted me."
"I caught a couple of glints from the lens," Jensen said. "So what do you want?"
"The same thing you do," Toby said. "I want into Aegis Mountain."
Jensen shook his head. "Sorry."
"If I don't go, neither do you," Toby warned.
"Is that a threat?" Jensen asked, wishing it was light enough for him to see whether or not the other was holding his pistol.
"It's a statement of fact," Toby said. "I'm guessing that whatever you want in there is going to involve at least a little bit of heavy lifting. There's no way you're going to do any of that, not with your ribs the way they are."
"And you're not going to make it with your leg the way it is," Jensen countered. "There's a lot of walking and climbing involved."
"I'll make it," Toby said firmly. "And not to push, but this is a limited-time deal. Eventually, Security's going to get around to analyzing the pylon team's IR data and come out here for another look. The only place we can go where they won't spot us is inside the base."
"Alternatively, that's exactly what they're hoping I'll think," Jensen countered. "Maybe the plan is for you to talk me into showing you the way in."
"And then what?" Toby scoffed. "I overpower you with my bare hands and call them in?"
"You have a gun," Jensen reminded him.
Toby snorted. "And I'm supposed to threaten a blackcollar with a gun? That's hardly the way I want to die."
"How do you want to die?"
"Not that way," Toby said, a sudden oddness to his voice. "So are we going? Or would you rather be sitting here arguing about it when Security flies in to pick us up?"
Jensen grimaced as he gazed at the other's silhouette in the starlight. Toby was right, he had to admit—
with his ribs in the shape they were he wasn't going to accomplish much alone. But there were still an awful lot of question marks swirling around the old hermit.
On the other hand, Toby was also right about Security coming out for a second look ... and after personally sampling their torture methods on Argent, he knew he would eventually break down and show them the secret entrance.
And he was damned if he was going to lose by default. "All right," he said reluctantly. "But you're going to have to get me to the right area. I have no idea where we are."
"We're not too far," Toby assured him, using a tree branch to help himself to his feet. "I figured we might as well head that direction to start with."
"Yeah, I sort of figured that," Jensen said, pushing himself off the ground.
"Here." Toby offered a hand.
Jensen gripped it, and together they got him upright. "Thanks," he said, pausing while the stabbing pain in his side settled back down to a dull ache. "Did you want to eat something before we go?"
"I can eat along the way." Toby hesitated. "And if it would make you feel better about me, I can give you my gun."
"No, that's okay," Jensen said, waving away the offer. "Ribs or no ribs, if I can't take care of a single old codger with a gun, I probably deserve to get shot."
"You have no idea how comforting a thought that is, too," Toby said dryly.
"I try," Jensen said. Besides, if Toby was a Security plant, he would certainly have a backup weapon tucked away somewhere. "Which way?"
"Through there," Toby said, pointing toward a gap between two stands of trees. "Give me a hand, will you, until my leg unstiffens a little?"
* * *
"Colonel?"
Bailey started awake, rolling over on the cot he'd had set up in his office. Ramirez was standing in the doorway, a sheaf of papers in his hand. "Yes, what is it?" he asked, wincing as he stretched aching muscles.
"I have something here you should see," Ramirez said, coming in as Bailey sat up. "One of the pylon teams picked this up late yesterday afternoon."
Frowning, Bailey took the papers. On top was a print of an infrared-sensor photo with a small shack in the center. The legend at the bottom of the print gave the coordinates, plus the fact that it had gone through a three-stage computer scrubbing. "What am I supposed to see?" he asked.
"There appear to be two human images present," Ramirez said, pointing to two blurs in the shack. "One sitting near the window, the other lying down further back. Problem is, the cabin's owned by a hermit who allegedly lives alone."
The hairs on the back of Bailey's neck began to tingle as he peeled off the top sheet and looked at the next page down, a topo map of the region with the cabin marked with a circle. It was just above a place called Shelter Valley, a few klicks northwest of Aegis Mountain. "Didn't anyone have the brains to wonder about this?"
"Actually, sir, two of the Security men accompanying the techs did go up to take a look," Ramirez said stiffly, and Bailey belatedly remembered that those tech teams had come from Ramirez's office. "When they got there, the hermit was alone."
"Did they get any other readings?" Bailey asked, shuffling through the papers. There didn't seem to be any more prints. "Anyone have any idea where the other one might have gone?"
"Unfortunately, no," Ramirez said sourly. "The sensor data wasn't nearly clear enough for them to take any action or even send up any red flags. You can see yourself that it took three scrubbings to get it even this clear."
Bailey looked back at the first page, frowning as he spotted the time stamp. "This came through at midnight?" he snarled, jabbing a finger at the number. "Why the hell are we talking about it now?"
"I tri
ed to talk to Battle Architect Daasaa as soon as it came through," Ramirez said, his voice under tight control. "But he wouldn't authorize me to release any of the spotters or men assigned to Athena guard duty."
"Then why didn't you bring it to me?" Bailey snarled. "Maybe I could have done something."
"Yes, sir, I thought you might," Ramirez countered. "The trouble was, you'd left the building without telling anyone where you were going. And despite what you told the garage sergeant, we weren't able to reach you by comm."
Bailey squeezed the papers tightly between his fingers, silently cursing himself. Of course they hadn't been able to contact him—he'd turned off his comm so that the background chatter wouldn't distract him from his private interrogation at the hospital and had forgotten to turn it back on. "Get a team out there now," he ordered, glancing at the rim of the sun pushing its way above the eastern horizon. "I want the cabin searched—thoroughly—and everyone in town questioned. On second thought, make it two teams.
And run me up everything we have on that hermit."
"I already did that, sir," Ramirez said, indicating the papers in Bailey's hand. "But I can't send any teams without Daasaa's authorization."
"Oh, can't you?" Bailey growled, getting to his feet. It was their missing blackcollar, all right—it had to be. If he slipped through their fingers because of miscommunication or flat-out bureaucratic bumbling, heads were going to roll. Very possibly literally. "Fine. Let's go find him."
* * *
The colors of the sky to the east were fading into blue, though the sun hadn't yet appeared over the mountains, when they reached the hidden air vent. "Here we are," Jensen said, pointing to the grating at the vent's mouth as they crossed the small clearing in front of it.
"Amazing," Foxleigh said, shaking his head in wonderment. Even knowing there was something out here to find, he hadn't spotted the grating until they were practically on top of it. "You know, I actually saw the kids who were working on this, though I couldn't tell what they were doing. It wasn't until your group showed up last year that I put the pieces together."
"I'm glad Security wasn't paying you visits then," Jensen said, starting to unfasten the twisted wires that held the grating in place. "Give me a hand here, will you?"