Someone must be listening in.
Xris took out a twist, put it between his lips. “This is Mr. Borg. What’s wrong, Harry?”
“It’s Raoul, Cy. You heard from him?”
“No, not a word. What’s the matter?”
“He’s not here, Cy. Raoul never showed.”
Chapter 13
Attack when they are unprepared, make your move when they do not expect it.
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
“Shit!” said Xris loudly and with feeling.
The response came over clearly on Harry’s cel’link. Harry looked at Jamil, who shook his head. It was not exactly the response likely to come from the chief executive of an outer space floating platform corporation. Harry looked askance at the Olicien receptionist, afraid she, too, had heard the expletive.
But the receptionist had begun talking to Harry and Jamil the moment they entered the door and hadn’t paused, except to draw breath. She continued to talk now, and probably hadn’t heard, though she was starting to slow down and was obviously getting a bit too interested in Harry’s conversation. Jamil distracted her, asked a question about Raoul that got her started again. Harry moved closer to the door, tried to see out to the tarmac.
“This is weird, Xris,” Harry said in a low voice, under cover of Jamil’s conversation. “We’ve waited for Raoul as long as we can.”
“Did you try his comm?”
“No response. What’s really strange, he was supposed to meet one of their people for breakfast at the hotel. He never showed.”
“Something’s gone wrong.”
Harry glanced at his watch. 0918.
“The question is, boss, do we go ahead?”
“We’ve gone too far to quit now. Proceed as planned. I’ll try to raise Raoul. Out.”
Harry stared a moment at the link, then replaced it in his briefcase, snapped the case shut. Jamil was watching him. Harry nodded once. Jamil flickered his eyelids in understanding.
“We’d like to meet with your manager anyway, if we could. Undoubtedly Mr. de Beausoleil will be here momentarily.”
“Certainly. I’ll let Mr. Darminderpal and Ms. Kohli know you are here. Too bad about Mr. de Beausoleil. I’d try calling him again, but our links don’t appear to be working at the moment. Our commlink company is so impossible. This is the second time this month. Such a fine-looking young man, and so polite. We had a nice conversation yesterday. And his funny little friend in the raincoat. Never says a word, does he?” The receptionist, still talking, gazed curiously at Harry, who had begun to unpack the “contraption” from its case. “Why, what on Alius—”
“We thought we’d bring along the device we’re currently using for exterminating the little critters,” Jamil explained. “This unit just isn’t doing the job for us. We figured your people should take a look at it.”
Harry fit his arms into shoulder straps, hoisted a battery pack onto his back. A short length of hose trailed out the right side of the pack. He attached the hose to a large metal ring, attached three metal tubes to the ring, forming a triangle. Finally, he clicked into place a pistol grip with a triggering device. He flicked a switch. The battery pack hummed. The ring with the tubes began to rotate.
The receptionist stared at it, then began to giggle. “Why, you could destroy bugs the size of the one out there on our front lawn with that thing!”
“Why, yes. Yes, ma’am, we could,” said Harry gravely.
The “contraption” was, in reality, a disguised 4.2-megawatt laser pulse cannon with triple rotating barrels. Specially designed and built by Quong, the cannon could take out the building, and everyone inside.
“I’m sure Mr. Darminderpal will be fascinated by it. He has a collection of extermination devices from all over the galaxy. . ..”
Continuing to talk to them, the receptionist managed, at the same time, to inform a Ms. Kohli that she had visitors. This done, the receptionist turned her attention and her conversation back to the prospective new clients.
Harry reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small spray can. “Then there’s this product. We’ve tried applying it to our skin, but the damn bugs actually seem to enjoy the taste. Perhaps you’re familiar with the brand?”
He held the can for the receptionist to see. As she leaned forward, peering intently at the label, Harry sprayed the contents of the can directly into the woman’s face. She gasped involuntarily, inhaling the spray. Not that inhalation was necessary. As soon as Raoul’s hypno-spray made skin contact, the victim was comatose.
The receptionist flopped forward across the desk.
Harry lifted her, propped her up in the chair, turned the chair away from both the hall and the front door.
Jamil took a quick glance out the door, locked it shut. “No one outside,” he reported. “But we have company inside.”
A woman in a brown suit was walking toward them. Jamil moved swiftly. “Good morning. I’m Kevin Coleridge. This is my colleague, Jeff Fuqua.”
“How’dya do?” Harry bobbed his head.
“Jeff, why don’t you wait here for Mr. de Beausoleil?” Jamil glanced significantly at the front door.
Ms. Kohli stared at the cannon. “What’s that thing?”
“I’ll explain later. We might even give you a demonstration. Where’s your office? Nice building you have here. Such an interesting color.”
Jamil took hold of Ms. Kohli by the arm, propelled her politely but firmly back down the hallway. “It seems that our Mr. de Beausoleil is late. We’re operating on a rather strict time schedule. If we could go ahead with our meeting . . .”
“Of course, Mr. Coleridge. Come back to my office. I’ve sent for Mr. Darminderpal, our senior technician. Oh, just a moment.
I forgot . ..” Pausing, the woman turned to the receptionist. “Madeline?”
Harry was bending over the desk, apparently having the most interesting conversation with the receptionist and managing to block the view of anyone in the hallway.
“Madeline, please hold my calls.” Ms. Kohli didn’t wait for a response.
She entered the office, moved aside to let Jamil pass in front of her. A thin man, clad in yellow coveralls, was standing at the window, staring with fixed intensity outdoors in the direction of the tarmac.
“That’s odd . ..” the man began.
Jamil gave a loud and hacking cough.
Startled by the sound, the man turned his head.
Jamil was on him instantly, grabbing the technician’s hand and shaking it heartily. “How do you do, sir? I’m Coleridge. Kevin Coleridge.”
“Darminderpal.” The man gave his name vaguely. He turned his head, looked back out the window.
“What is it?” Kohli asked.
“I thought I saw a stranger out there—”
“My business card.”
Jamil reached into his pocket, took out a can of hypno-spray and blasted Darminderpal in the face. The man gagged, gargled. His eyes rolled. He slumped forward. Jamil caught the flaccid body, lowered it to the floor.
“Don’t move or make a sound,” Jamil ordered, holding the spray can in front of Ms. Kohli.
Gliding past her, Jamil shut and locked the office door. Then, pocketing the spray can, he pulled a .22-decawatt lasgun from a shoulder holster. He glanced at his watch. 0930. They were running late.
“Keep very quiet and no one will get hurt. Your friend on the floor is just taking a nice little nap.”
“What do you want?” the woman asked fearfully.
Jamil gestured with the gun toward a wall safe. “Open it.”
Kohli shook her head.
“Is the money really worth your life?” Jamil demanded, his voice hard, gruff. “What about his?” He turned the gun on the comatose technician.
“But—but.. . there is no money.” Kohli extended her hands in a pleading gesture. “You have to believe me! We only k-keep cash on payroll day and this isn’t—”
“What? . . . Damn!” Jamil blustered
. “Raoul really screwed this up good. He said this was payroll day!”
The woman just stared helplessly at him.
Jamil waved the gun. “Then if there’s no cash, you won’t mind opening the safe, will you? Or would you rather see me open up your tech’s head?”
Kohli gulped, mumbled, “No, please. Don’t hurt—”
“Move!”
She moved, opened the safe with her hand print and a coded entry.
Jamil shoved her roughly to one side. Peering in, he swore loudly. “My God! You’re telling the truth. Nothing but plastic.” He snatched up the spaceplane’s code cards. “Let’s see how much you have in your accounts.”
He thrust the card into the computer.
“But those aren’t credit cards. They only operate—”
“Operate what?” Jamil demanded, though he knew perfectly well.
The woman bit her lip, shut her mouth.
Muttering to himself, pretending to be frustrated over his inability to discover a bank account, Jamil was, in actuality, swiftly altering the code on the cards. This done, he removed them from the computer, slid them into his pocket. “Ah, hell! I’ll work on this later. Wait till I get my hands on that Adonian!”
He pulled the aerosol can out of his pocket. “You’re going to take a little nap now, like your friend. You might want to sit in the chair first.”
The woman sank down in the plush chair behind the desk. Jamil sprayed her in the face. She blinked once, and slumped forward.
Jamil slid the lasgun back into the holster. Opening the office door, he glanced quickly up and down the hall.
“Yes, I know the way out, Ms. Kohli. Thanks. We’ll be in touch.”
Shutting the door, Jamil walked swiftly down the hall.
“Any trouble?”
Harry rose to his feet. “Nope, all quiet. You?”
“Their senior tech spotted one of our guys out by the plane. I sprayed him before he got a good look. Let’s get out of here. We’re already late.”
“Did you get the cards, make the code change?”
“In here.” Jamil slapped his pocket.
Harry unlocked the front door. They both walked out into the bright sunshine.
“Keep me covered,” Jamil ordered.
Harry posted himself outside the front door.
Jamil opened his briefcase, removed a large canister. On the way into the company, he had looked for and found the building’s central air-conditioning unit, located on the roof. Jamil climbed the maintenance ladder attached to the building’s exterior wall. Once on the roof, he placed the canister beside the air intake system, pulled the ring tab on the top of the canister. White smoke began to rise and was immediately sucked into the system’s intake. Jamil climbed down, rejoined his partner.
Harry was on the comm. “Xris, we’ve got the code cards. We’re now leaving the building. Jamil’s released the gas. Everyone inside should be sound asleep by now.”
“Good work. When you come, bring the van. There’s been a change in plans. Out.”
The two exchanged glances, then each looked at his watch.
0940. It was rather late for a change in plans.
When the van pulled up to the hangar, Xris was there to meet it. The cyborg yanked open the door on Jamil’s side.
“I’m going to find out what’s happened to Raoul. I’ll take Harry with me. You and the others load the gear in the plane. Search through the company’s flight records—you’ll find them in the hangar office. Find the latest codes and approach vectors for today’s run.”
Jamil jumped out. Xris, barely waiting for him, climbed inside the van. Tycho and Quong, wearing bright yellow coveralls, stood near the spaceplane.
“What about the clock?” Jamil shouted over the roar of the hover van’s engine.
“Screw the clock!” Xris yelled. “We need Raoul and the empath! Don’t worry. We’ll make up the time en route.”
He slammed shut the door. Jamil backed hurriedly away.
Inside the van’s cab, all was quiet. Harry was looking unhappy.
“Just drive, damn it!” Xris said irritably.
Harry drove, wheeling the vehicle around so swiftly that the blast from the air jets nearly knocked Jamil off his feet.
“Where’s his hotel? Near here, I hope.”
“Yeah, Xris. Not far. But—”
Xris brought up the computer map. “What’s the name? I’ll punch it in. Get the fastest route.”
Harry looked even more unhappy. “Uh, that’s just it, Xris. I can’t remember the name of the hotel. But”—he perked up—”I do remember his room number. Ten-nineteen.”
Xris removed the twist from his mouth. “You what?”
“I don’t remember the name of the hotel, Xris,” Harry said miserably. “I’m sorry. I’d had a few drinks. It just didn’t register. But the room number. I know that.”
“That’s going to be a fucking big help. Do you know how many hotels there are in this bloody city?”
Xris didn’t often swear. Harry’s hands tightened on the wheel. He stared straight ahead. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
“I know about where it is, Xris,” he said suddenly. “And I know what it looks like. It’s a fancy building. I’ll know it when I get there.”
Xris drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “All right. I guess that’ll have to do.”
“I’m sorry, Xris. I didn’t think it would be important.”
“Just drive, Harry. Just drive.”
0945.
Harry recognized the hotel—the Grand Aurigan—easily. It was big and elegant. Valets swarmed around the front entrance, eager to relieve travel-weary guests of all their burdens, including their means of transportation.
“Valet parking, Xris,” Harry said, slowing the van to a crawl about a block away from the hotel.
“We can’t risk that,” Xris replied. “We’re going to need to leave here fast. Drive around.”
They located a side entrance, with only a doorman on duty. Vehicles of all types lined the street. There was no place to park. Harry dropped the van to street level.
“Stay here. Keep the engine running and your comm on,” Xris instructed, jumping out.
He had removed the tool hand, replaced it with the flesh-foam hand, but had not bothered to change out of his fatigues. The doorman glared at him.
“He can’t hover there,” he said.
“I’ll only be a minute,” Xris told him, heading for the door.
“But—” The doorman started to argue.
Xris shoved the man aside, yanked open the door. When the elevator didn’t arrive fast enough to suit him, the cyborg found the stairs, took them two at a time to the tenth floor.
He emerged through a fire door, began scanning room numbers. A woman with a small child passed him, both in swimsuits, evidently on their way to the pool. Otherwise, the corridors were quiet, empty.
“No one around,” Xris reported to Harry over the comm. “I was half expecting to find the hallway jammed with cops. But nothing appears to be wrong.”
“The damn Loti took an overdose,” Harry returned. “You’ll probably find him spaced out of his mind. Or maybe he met someone in the bar last night. Or some thing. I hate to think what you might be walking in on.”
It’s possible, Xris agreed, just not probable. In all the years he’d worked with Raoul, the Adonian had never let the team down. Xris halted in front of a large double wooden door with 1019 in brass digits.
He listened. His augmented hearing would have picked up the flutter of Raoul’s false eyelashes.
No sound.
Xris scanned the hall. No one in sight except a cleaning ‘bot down at the far end. Removing his lasgun from his shoulder holster, Xris lightly tapped on the door with the barrel.
“Raoul!” he called.
He hoped—hoped like hell—the door would open. He’d find the embarrassed and apologetic Loti trying to kiss him.
The door remained closed.
>
“I’m going in,” Xris told Harry.
Gun in hand, Xris kicked his steel leg into the door, burst it open. Splinters flew. The lock snapped. He dashed in, his gun moving in a tracking arc, looking for targets. He saw nothing more alarming than one of Raoul’s hats.
The room was made up. The beds hadn’t been slept in. Raoul’s luggage was open, clothes strewn about—on the bed, on the floor. A red taffeta cloak was draped over the vid. Xris might have concluded immediately that the place had been trashed, but Raoul’s bedroom back home looked exactly the same, only worse. Even an overturned lamp was nothing out of the ordinary, if Raoul happened to be suffering through a bad hair day.
And then, “Damn it all,” Xris said softly.
“What is it, Xris?” Harry heard the cyborg’s ominous tone. “What’ve you found?”
Xris didn’t answer. Walking over to a cream-colored wall, he examined the large wet splotch, touched it. Then he swore.
“Blood. And it’s fresh.”
“You need me up there?”
“No. Stay with the van.”
Xris found several more red spots on the carpet, still more in front of the bathroom. Gun raised, he slowly pushed open the bathroom door with the toe of his boot, looked in the mirror on the wall to see if anyone was inside.
No one was. At least not that he could see from this angle.
Xris shoved open the door, whipped around it.
“Dear God in heaven!” he said, appalled.
“Xris! What is it? You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Xris said bitterly. “It’s the Little One.”
The small figure lay huddled in the bathtub. Blood was spattered all over the walls and the sides of the tub; the raincoat was soaked red, especially around the collar. The fedora was askew on the battered head.
Gently, Xris removed the hat, to try to get a better look at the injuries. He recoiled in revulsion and shock. Not from the sight of blood or the brutal punishment the small body had taken; Xris had seen people beaten up before. It was the sight of the small body itself.
“Xris?” Harry was getting nervous. “You better hurry. That doorman’s been raising hell about our parking in a no-park zone. What’s going on? Is the little fellow dead?”
The Knights of the Black Earth Page 15