“And don’t you dare watch me through the wall!”
“What kind of gentleman do you take me for?” He tried to sound hurt but laughed to himself as she left. Lon turned with a sigh and looked around to figure a quick way out of this mess. The wine rack stood in a corner like a beacon. Crappy vintage. Screw top. He stashed a bottle in their bag.
Lina came back into the kitchen almost exactly five minutes later, her hair up in a towel and carrying her nightgown and a comb. She was still dressed in his shirt, he was disappointed to see. He’d hoped she’d only have a tiny towel wrapped around herself, like in a 007 movie. One wrong move and the camera would cut to a scene of the two of them lying in bed so satisfied while the soundtrack played cool jazz.
He snapped back to reality. “My turn,” he told her. “I might be a little longer.”
“I’ll yell,” she promised.
Lon caught sight of himself in a mirror before he got in the shower and inhaled sharply. Not James Bond at all. No wonder he wasn’t making any headway with her! Streaked with sweat and dirt, scratches on his face, his hair half building powder, eyebrows still dusted with white— Still... She could tell that he was pretty good underneath the damage. He ducked into the shower and gasped at the shock of the water. Cold—the memories of cold crashed back to him. It had been a long time...
When he finished he found his comb in his vest and worked diligently to get everything just right. One of his vest pockets held his stash of hair gel—never go anywhere without the gel—and he used it now.
These scratches weren’t all that major. Norms healed from scratches all the time, didn’t they? He’d heal from these. Lon grabbed some toothpaste and did what he could using his finger, then gave himself a brilliant smile. Um hum. Lina tonight, maybe sooner. He patted his muscled belly as he preened before the mirror. At last he reached down to pick up his clothes and shake them. Just to be thorough, he beat them against the wall.
**What the heck are you doing back there?!**
Movement outside the window attracted his attention. She was hanging that nightie up wet over a trellis. It was now a dark color, a bluish charcoal gray.
**Nothing much. I see you found some dye.**
She glanced up at that and saw him at the window. He settled on the wide ledge and propped his foot against the sill. Then he slapped his pants hard against the outside wall. That raised a nice cloud of yellow dust that hadn’t gotten out before.
**Lon!** She turned her back hastily.
**Tell you what, chérie,** he laughed. **Why don’t you wash that shirt of mine, too, while you’re at it? We can both sit out in the sun where it’s nice and warm while everything dries. You’ll like that. We won’t have to touch; we can just look.**
She kept her back turned to him as she took the towel off her hair and began to comb it out so the breeze and sun would dry it. **I don’t remember hearing about this side of you when they showed you on Biography.**
**So you keep up with me on TV?**
**...Doesn’t the entire world?**
**Some do. Some don’t. I’m honored that such a beautiful girl does. Did you see anything—on Biography—that you liked? Is there anything about me that you like, Lina?**
**Of course there is.**
**Like what?**
**Well... You’re the greatest hero in the world. Everyone knows that.**
**Most people would say Maximus, if they’re naming paras.**
**Well, some people would say his son.**
**Do you like heroes, Lina?** Londo emptied the pockets of his vest as he prepared to slap it against the outside walls.
**Everyone needs an inspiration, be it human or para. Or angel, for that matter.**
Before he hit his vest on the wall he paused to savor Lina and her hair. The comb picked up a mass of auburn and feathered it until it fell, golds and reds and browns in the midday sun. It curled in long, loose ringlets far down her back.
Londo tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry. **What else? Flatter me.**
**You don’t get enough flattery? I thought you said that you were tired of women constantly throwing themselves at you. That you were tired of going to places where women would make a point of parading themselves in front of you. Or they’d conveniently lose parts of their clothing in your presence.**
**You don’t look like the kind of girl who reads Playboy.**
**It was on the lunch table at work.**
**At work? Businesses are a lot more liberal than I thought. That woman who did the interview, she was the one whose blouse conveniently untied as she leaned over. Trying to make it like other women did that, too. The editors wrote me a letter of apology.**
**So she was sorta like all those women who said you were the father of their kids?** Lina sounded amused now.
**Do you have any idea how much time it takes to go to court?**
**Why don’t you just tell them you’re a virgin? Hm?**
**Because maybe I don’t want them to know. Dearest Lina, being a male virgin is not at all the same image as being a female one.**
**So you’d go to court rather than confess in an interview and then dare any woman to claim you lied.**
**Are you listening to the prisoners?**
**I’m listening. I’ve got guides standing by, too. They agree with you about time.**
**All right. I remember one woman reporter. She printed that I was brave, loyal, thrifty, and devoted to God and King and country, and then turned around and said that I spent money like there was no tomorrow, was hopelessly atheist, hated politics in any form, and looked at least twice at every female who crossed my path. I liked that article. I kept it.**
**It had a nice picture of you on the cover.**
**Oh? You’re a Cosmo girl?**
**Only when I like the cover. As I recall, it had the year’s astrological calendar in that issue. I might still have it at home.**
**And you framed the issue to cover a crack in your wall?**
**Don’t be silly. Did you date the reporter afterward?**
**Non. She was a very nice lady, though, a grandmother of three. Does that make you feel better? Tell me you like me, Lina.**
**Of course I like you, Lon. You’ve rescued me a few dozen times today. Other than being a little bossy and a lot horny, what’s not to like about you?**
**That’s my girl. Now get back inside where you can actually hear those prisoners. It’s not that I don’t trust those guides of yours, but—**
**But you don’t trust my guides.**
**Exactement.**
**Yes, Commander.**
He flashed her his best smile as she glanced at him before she went inside. So she read articles and watched shows about him, did she? Thought he was better than his father Hal, did she? Humming to himself, he got dressed and checked his hair again.
He took a few minutes to explore the place with wider attention. Only the servants’ quarters had any kind of lived-in look. The owners must use this as a vacation home. Out of curiosity, Lon opened a closet in what looked like feminine living quarters and laughed. “Little person” wasn’t quite right, but it was close. The maid must be a tiny but robust woman, and his Lina was very tall and where she had any extra fat, it was located in just the right places. He wandered on to a male bedroom looking for a shirt for himself, maybe a larger shirt or dark robe that Lina could wear, but again the occupant seemed to be very small.
Lina had stuffed a can of insect repellent into their bag and now Lon thought that might have been a wise move. His first experiences so far with the mosquitoes of the tropical forest had been unpleasant. This had not been the right day not to have thrown on an undershirt before he left home. He scratched his bare chest and looked down. Maybe he should leave the vest open. Women liked bare chests, and he knew his was impressive. In fact, maybe he should ditch the vest altogether... and maybe not. He’d see how it went.
He ventured out to investigate the Jeep for salvage. He might use a short-wav
e radio or satellite transmitter to contact the Network. Instead he found two axles, half an engine block, and not much else. Terry did like her high explosives. This had been particularly compact and efficient. It was a wonder that more of the house hadn’t been damaged. And it was true enough that reddish liquid was sloshed about: transmission fluid.
Lon ground his teeth at the thought of what might have happened. He’d been able to spend most of his life feeling a little—no a lot—cocky. He couldn’t afford to make that mistake or any other now. He didn’t have any intentions of dying, and he was damned if anyone was going to harm Lina!
Absolutely, especially before they had some very special time together.
He returned to her in the kitchen where she sat beside a battery radio, fiercely listening to one station that he realized was broadcasting in French. “No tranquilizers,” he reported.
She nodded at him absently. “They’re not mentioning anything amiss. Business as usual. They’re not local, but I think they’re from this island chain. I don’t think anything from here is actually broadcasting, not that I’ve found.”
“You understand French?”
“Not enough to carry on a real conversation,” she told him. “I can understand it better than I can speak it. With me it’s one phrase at a time.”
He nodded sympathetically. “I remember how it was learning English,” he said.
Lon didn’t try the landline yet. With this kind of operation, someone certainly had a finger in communications. They’d use the phone the last thing, on the way out. Still, the phone sat there like the ultimate temptation. He desperately wanted to try it now to see if they could get through. If that happened they could be rescued within minutes. The Network could have this island secured in no time.
Then he would go home to recuperate and take Lina with him. Even she’d appreciate his bed after a day like this. She wouldn’t refuse him. He pictured her there, naked under the sheets, holding out her arms and welcoming him as he slid in beside her. Inside her.
Londo jumped as the walkie-talkie of one of the men in the next room crackled with a garbled voice. He shook himself into sharp awareness. It was time to get back to work. How long had it been since the explosion? He’d thought that they could be remote enough from the nearest of the other troops for it to have passed unheard, or at least vague in direction.
“Get in your dress if you’re going to,” he told Lina as he repacked their bag more efficiently before he returned to the main salon.
Two of the men were stirring. He shook the third awake. They lay there sullenly, glaring at him though the fear crawled up their faces to live in their eyes. Valiant.
Alert as a hawk, he leaned on the edge of a table, taut and dangerous. “Anyone want to start?” Lon asked them in a voice that made Lina shiver where she was, hidden from the men.
Valiant was known to be the warrior Rand, as opposed to his father. Now she could see it. She’d hate to be on the receiving end of Londo’s hard eyes.
The walkie-talkie interrupted again, a male voice asking for check-in. Someone missed these men.
“We’ve got you surrounded, Valiant,” the bear-man sneered. He had an Australian accent also. “Everyone knows you’re operating widout yor pow’rs.”
Lon considered the man as he stood up. He propped his foot on the seat of the chair next to his captive’s head. “Oh, there are powers enough at my disposal,” he said. The man started to say something and then cried out as Londo twisted the twine that wrapped around his throat. His cry turned into a gargle. “The power of breath, for one. I know lots of little tricks. And of course, there’s my partner here.” He released the twine.
The man’s squint shifted as Lina stepped into the room. It started at her sneakers and ran up her legs to the dark skirt of her chemise, until it got to what was obviously Valiant’s shirt. Up to her face. His gaze widened to a stare. Obviously, she wasn’t supposed to be there.
“They know I’m a telepath,” Lina said wonderingly. “How’d you know that?” She turned to Londo. “There’s something about the two of us. If they found the two of us together, they were supposed to leave us alone. Or herd us... I’m not sure.” She turned back to the mercenary. “What does that mean? Why?”
The man’s face screwed up in concentration.
“Very good,” Lina said. “Someone’s been teaching them how to close their minds. That works great for telepaths, you know that?” she told Lon. “For psychics, though, there are ways around it. Why don’t you ask some questions, see what we get?” She tried to mimic Lon’s swagger and threat in her own manner. This was no time to play the fainting female.
Londo gave an evil smile to the men, and Lina could almost see them quake in their boots. “D’accord, it’s Jeopardy time, but the answers don’t have to be phrased in the form of a question.” He turned to the lead man, the bear. “Where’s Terry?”
The man didn’t say anything, but stared stonily ahead at nothing.
“She’s holed up in another mansion, one near St. Catherine,” Lina said as if she were reciting. “They’ve got their headquarters there. Communications, vehicles. Helicopters.” **Do you know how to fly one?**
**I can get by.** “How many of you are there?”
Lina considered. “Hard to get an exact count here. Over your hundred, that’s for sure.” She looked at the leader, the one whose face was so contorted. “Oh. Two hundred infantry,” she said. “Thank you.”
“So the expression doesn’t really do that much for the effect?” Lon asked.
“Oh no. It just makes him look rather silly.”
“Stay out of my mind,” the bear-man said, but the demand was cast in fear.
Too calmly, Londo replied, “But we have questions we want answered. You want her out of your mind, you’re going to have to speak out loud to me.”
“We’ll keep her out of our heads.”
Lina gave him a kindly smile as she sat down and made herself comfortable for effect. If they saw she was at ease, they would automatically relax. “I’m so sorry,” she said in a sweetly sincere voice, just a tone or two lower than her usual speaking pitch. “I know it’s impolite. But down inside, you want to tell us; I can feel it. You know that it’s the right thing to do, and deep in your hearts you want to do what’s right.
“Each of you is not the horrible person you’d like the others to think you are, not really. Inside you is your true self. You know your true self; you want to do what’s right. You want to live in the truth. It’s so much easier to tell the truth, to help people, isn’t it?”
She went on like that for a few minutes more. Londo admired the way she used her voice. She sighed a lot, and he noticed the men relaxing more each time she did it. He recognized the technique. He’d been put under hypnosis and through guided meditations before. It was the voice of quiet, unthreatening authority that bent the strongest will.
The first man’s face evened out. He gave an earnest little smile as he gazed at Lina. **You’ve got one,** Lon told her. **Maybe that other one there. I don’t think the big guy’s going for it too much, though.**
**Well, it only takes one. Keep your voice soft,** Lina told him. **Ask.**
**You do it. You’re the one they’re listening to.**
Lina’s voice didn’t pause, didn’t vary in timber. “What we’re offering you is a chance to live that inner truth, to let the good in you shine through. Remember, you are the light of the world, I can see that; I can see that. Now, tell us what—”
“Death before dishonor!” the bear-man barked. He’d been the least glazed over. His abrupt words awakened his teammates. They glanced at him, at each other.
“No. No! You can’t! Londo!” Lina jerked alert in her chair. “Stop them!”
“What?”
She could communicate quicker telepathically. **It was a code! They’ve got some kind of pills. Suicide pills. Oh lord—**
Londo pulled open the jaws of the man who’d almost been entranced just
in time to see the pill go down the man’s gullet. He flipped him over and performed the Heimlich maneuver, but the man was dead before it could do any good. He jerked as he died. The other two lay still around him.
“Oh my god!”
Lina gaped at the bodies on the floor, both her hands splayed over the lower half of her face. Her wide eyes stared, unfocused. “I’ve never seen anyone die before,” she finally said slowly as she rose from her chair. “Yes, you’re dead,” she said to the air. “Why do you think you’re standing there when you’re lying there, too? That’s what being dead means.”
Londo stood slack-armed. Lina was in earnest conversation with someone, something.
“Suicide,” she said. “You took life and threw it away. All right, so you’ve done that with others, too. Now you’ve done it to yourselves. You know how wrong that was, don’t you?” She paused. “Good. So why don’t you tell us what we want to know? They can’t hurt you now for telling us. It would help us and make you feel better. Answer Valiant’s question. What’s the safe way off the island?”
Pause again. “North half unguarded; it’s too far for them to penetrate on foot. They couldn’t be there. Thanks. Now, what was this... about us? That you weren’t supposed to bother us if we were together?” She nodded. “We didn’t know you were together; we just saw Valiant. Orders were to bring him in if he was alone. To kill you if you were alone. To follow and observe absolutely undetected only if you two were together. Why? Wait a minute. Please. Just a minute.”
She held one hand up in halting motion, her face drawn and anxious. “Wait. Don’t take them just yet. Let them stay just a few minutes. What is time to you? We have questions.” Pause. Then, much chastised: “Of course I do. Yes, this is more important. I understand. Wait—do you think you might help us?”
She listened for a moment and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and then looked up at Lon. “I’m sorry. That guy—” she pointed at the bear. “He saw the tunnel and went in immediately. The other two—an angel came to show them the way. It was time for them to go.” She looked so contritely at Londo. “You don’t argue with the angels when they’re on a mission. But he said... He said...” She seemed confused.
Touch of Danger (Three Worlds) Page 8