robert Charrette - Arthur 02 - A King Beneath the Mountain

by Robert N. Charrette

  Lord, the man wouldn't let go. "I said I don't know."

  "Do you know who else is involved in this affair? Do you have connections with outside interests, Doctor?"

  So they were back to that. "Are you referring to Mitsu-tomo?"

  "I asked you the question, Doctor," L'Hereaux said harshly. "What role is Mitsutomo taking in this affair?"

  "How should I know? I'm not on their payroll. If anything, I'd say that they seem to be antagonistic toward Artos."

  "And why would that be?"

  "Ask them!"

  "We are asking you, Doctor." L'Hereaux's voice was an-noyingly calm.

  "I don't like what you're implying."

  "Neither do I, Doctor. Neither do I. Mitsutomo seems to know more than they should. How might that be? Agent Kun seemed to think they had a secret source of knowledge."

  The Department couldn't control every bit of data about the resurgence of magic in the world. Mitsutomo was a powerful megacorp; a corporation didn't get that big without smart people, and smart people made connections when presented with evidence. Who could guess what they knew? "Look, I don't know anything about Mitsutomo other than they kidnapped Reddy and Black and that they planted a transmitter on Black. That's how they were able to follow us to the other-world."

  "But you haven't explained how they managed to bridge the gap between the worlds," L'Hereaux said.

  "Bridging the dimensions would take a mage," Dagastino added.

  "What do you know about it? You ever done it?" Spae asked contemptuously.

  "I'm afraid I have to agree with Dr. Dagastino," Essenbach said. "A mage is necessary. We do not have the ability to breach the dimensions with mere technology."

  "Look, I don't know how they did it, but they did it. Mitsutomo raided the otherworld and tried to kill Artos. There was a raid on the awakening site as well. Maybe that was Mitsutomo, too. I've told you before that I don't know how they knew about Artos, or why they wanted to kill him. I am not involved with them."

  "So you say," Dagastino said.

  L'Hereaux stepped to the edge of the lights, becoming a silhouette against the dazzle. "Agent Kun's report does corroborate the raid and the transmitter. We know that Mitsutomo is at least partially aware of the magical upsurgence."

  "How could they unless someone informed them?" Da-gastino's tone made it clear who he thought the someone was.

  "Accusations are not called for at this time," L'Hereaux said. "Mitsutomo is involved. Consider the implications: a megacorporation aware of the sleepers and what they represent. This could have profound consequences. Mitsutomo's interests are not the world's interests."

  "There is the matter of the man Sorli," Gere said. This was new; they hadn't brought Sorli up in the previous sessions. "His involvement is something that concerns me, Dr. Spae. One of Agent Kun's field reports stated that you identified Sorli in Worcester shortly before the awakening of the sleeper. Is that correct?"

  "Correct." Just as in my report.

  "Your final report does not mention him. Why is that, Doctor?"

  "We didn't see him again."

  "I find it most interesting that you encountered Sorli at the beginning of this affair and never again," Dagastino said.

  Gere cleared his throat. "How shall I say this? Such an encounter is uncharacteristic, judging from our previous dealings with the man."

  L'Hereaux spoke from behind her; he had shifted position again. "Sorli has more than once disrupted our operations. We must consider the possibility that he has acquired the sleeper.

  Do you think that is possible, Dr. Spae?" He paused, then spoke from yet another spot. "Perhaps Sorli has persuaded you that your best interests lie elsewhere."

  Spae felt herself tense. So if Mitsutomo hadn't co-opted her, Sorli had, eh? They seemed to have convicted her already. "What are you saying, L'Hereaux?"

  "I think it's obvious."

  "And uncalled for," Magnus said.

  "Dr. Spae is loyal," said Essenbach.

  "There remains the question of Sorli's employers," Gere said.

  "I should think that answer is obvious," said Dagastino. "Mitsutomo."

  Magnus sighed. "If Mitsutomo is Sorli's master, Dr. Dagastino, they've been aware of the magic longer than I'd care to think about."

  "I would think Sorli's association with Mitsutomo, if it exists, is a rather recent thing," L'Hereaux said. "As recent as some other associations. Wouldn't you agree, Dr. Spae?"

  "Sorli is not the issue here." Essenbach's voice cracked a little."Can we get back to the important issue?"

  "Sorli is the issue," Dagastino snapped. "Especially if Spae has fallen under his influence."

  "Stuff you," Spae told him.

  For once Dagastino didn't rise to the bait. "But I think we have a more likely villain. Consider how she consorted with the elf Bennett, against Agent Kun's advice, and lost the sleeper to the otherworld."

  What a little slime. He didn't care which side he took as long as he could get in a shot at her. "So you're willing to admit I really went to the otherworld, if it lets you drag me down." Spae kept speaking, overriding his next comment. "We don't know Artos remained in the otherworld. I believe that he was returned as Kun and I were, so he's not lost."

  "We have no evidence the sleeper ever left the Faery realm," L'Hereaux said.

  "The Lady of the Lakes gave her word."

  "And what value may we place on that?"

  "I believed her," Spae said with firm conviction.

  "And so we should believe you?' She could imagine Da-gastino's lip curling as he spoke. "You are stretching our credulity, Spae."

  "And you're stretching my patience," she shot back.

  "No more than you are stretching ours." Magnus scraped his chair back and stood, a shift in the shadows beyond the lights. "Dr. Spae, your reports make some strong claims for this Bennett, but they are claims without substantiation. Where is the proof? Is this elf truly a prince of Faery?"

  "Alleged elf."

  "Enough, Dagastino!" More calmly, Magnus continued to speak to her. "Mr. Kun reported that he urged you not to consent to the expedition to the otherworld. Is that true?"

  "As true as it was the last time you asked."

  She was tired of this, tired of their games.

  "And yet you proceeded anyway."

  "I did."

  "And continued on, even when Mr. Kun advised a withdrawal to our own reality."

  "Yes."

  "For what purpose, Doctor?"

  "You know why."

  "Tell me again then. Convince me, Doctor."

  She sighed. The great man was proving no better than the rest. He'd become as untrusting and paranoid as the others. You couldn't trust someone who didn't trust you. She'd been trusting the promises of liars and doubters.

  She felt hot, from more than the lights. She was angry, very angry. Letting the emotion flood her, she pulled the energy together. The heat of the lights was searing; she imagined it hotter still, hot enough to melt and crumple the reflectors, twisting them around to hold in the heat. With a popping like a burst of automatic weapons fire, all the lights exploded. For a few seconds it seemed as if the room was plunged into darkness, but at last her eyes registered the room's ordinary lighting. Blackened reflectors stood at intervals smoking. Magnus's team stood or sat still, staring at her. Magnus didn't look amused.

  "I want to know why you listened to Bennett and not to your associate."

  What could she tell him that he'd understand? "How could anyone pass up a chance actually to visit the otherworld? Don't you want to know what it was like, Magnus?"

  "No," he answered, cold as ice.

  "Well, some people have more intellectual curiosity. Would you pass it up, Dr. Essenbach? Would you? Of course you wouldn't. Don't bother answering, Dagastino. You probably would throw away your chance, unless you had the blessing and encouragement of everyone around you, especially your boss." Dagastino gave a nervous glance at Magnus, who didn't seem to no
tice. "Hell, until recently we weren't even sure the otherworld existed. Well, now we know. I've been there. I've seen it."

  "And perhaps fallen under its spell?" L'Hereaux suggested.

  She rounded on him. "What would you know about it? You've never shown any more sensitivity to the arcane than your average lump of mud. You and your goddamned bully-boys have trampled on and destroyed more occult evidence than you've ever brought in."

  "Now, Doctor..."

  Magnus's tone was cautioning, but Spae no longer cared. She'd seen enough to know that the spy games weren't going to stop; they were only going to get worse. She was tired of the suspicion, tired of the distrust. She didn't need it. Or them. Or their bloody Department!

  "I've had enough of your 'now, Doctor'. I volunteered to work with the Department when you came knocking on my door, crying about needing people who could deal with the arcane. And I have worked with you. Honestly. To the best of my ability. But, you know, when I said I'd work with you, the emphasis was on the with I'm not a servant, and I'm not a pawn to be pushed around in your stupid games. Most especially I'm not some faceless work-prole who will take all the bullshit you dish out and ask for more!"

  "Doctor, sit down," Magnus ordered.

  "I will not! I've had enough of this! You can take your damned Department and shove it!"

  She glared wildly around the room. Dagastino and Gere were still stunned. Essenbach looked utterly appalled. L'Hereaux was the only one doing anything; he was leaning over a console, whispering—calling for his bullyboys, no doubt.

  Oh, no! They weren't going to lock her away in their see-nothing, know-nothing places. She wasn't about to stand still for that! They were afraid of what had happened in the other-world. Well, she'd show them that they had something to be afraid of.

  She raised the power in a flaring burst of energy, all dazzle and incandescence. They cowered from the light, shrinking back as the brilliance cast their inky shadows in elongated caricatures on the white walls.

  Let the light blind them to her doings! Let their thoughts be as twisted as their shadows on the walls! They would not see her as she walked, nor move to oppose her.

  The effect wouldn't last long, but it would hold for long enough for her to leave. She turned for the door and out of the corner of her eye noticed one shadow that did not match. L'Hereaux's shade did not match the security chief's crouch. She looked at him and saw that he was not really crouching; he was looking back at her.

  She threw him the finger.

  He smiled and she almost stumbled, for in that moment he looked like Bennett. She caught herself and looked again. L'Hereaux was L'Hereaux.

  There wasn't time to think about it.

  She ran for the door. No one moved to stop her. She kept going.

  Had she actually seen what she thought she'd seen? Was it her imagination? It must have been a trick of the light, an illusion based on fears and congruities. It couldn't have been real.

  But what if it was?

  If L'Hereaux was Bennett in disguise, had he always been, or had the elf only recently displaced the true L'Hereaux? In either case, why? What did the elf prince want? Had he wanted her to recognize him? And if so, why?

  Thinking about Bennett's involvement made her head hurt. She didn't have time to deal with it now; she had to worry about herself. She had to get out, or waste the effect of her spell. She headed topside, longing for the clear air and open sky. No one moved to stop the angry doctor. They knew better; she had top clearances. For a few minutes more, anyway.

  No one barred her way at the entrance, but the wary-eyed guards watched her as if she were some kind of wild animal. She didn't care what they thought as long as they let her go.

  She left the complex.

  They weren't going to be happy with her after this. They'd wanted to know what she had learned in the otherworld, and she'd given them a demonstration of what she could do now. Maybe she'd best consider it her resignation.

  Would they let her resign?

  They could try to stop her. She was still hot with anger and indignation as she stamped down the lane toward her cottage. Let them try!

  CHAPTER

  4

  Time had passed.

  How much?

  It was hard to tell without sight or sound or scent.

  Dust was a taste familiar. Motion a feeling grown strange over... time. How strange time had grown.

  Time passed.

  He knew he was drifting. He knew he was hungry. He knew he needed nourishment.

  There were auras around him, nearing him and drawing away, darting about like hummingbirds seeking nectar.

  Too fast, too fast.

  He waited. Time was his. Patience was his. The reward, when it came, would be his.

  The bright hummingbirds brought him to a place of cold and dark. Abandoned him, taking away their light and heat. A ploy to entrap him? No. They returned with a cold artificial light that he felt though he could not see it.

  His hunger returned as well. He felt its heat.

  He felt their heat. The light beckoned him.

  He wanted.

  He needed.

  One flickered close, lingering.

  Unaware.

  There was no sign to avoid on this one.

  He rejoiced.

  He took the light, sucking it down, feeding his hunger, warming his self.

  Light beat against lids long closed. He had sight again. He declined to use it. He had strength again, but so very little. He was still so very weak.

  The hummingbirds flitted about, still too quick.

  He could wait.

  Pamela Martinez was surprised that Nakaguchi invited her to attend the installation of his prize. Presumably he wanted to demonstrate his command of the Project. Pamela had considered finding something else to do, but Nakaguchi was going to be using the Nieumann Lab at the Brookfield Chemogenics Facility, a lab which, prior to Nakaguchi's usurpation, she had shepherded. She had personally approved the purchase orders for every item of equipment that had gone into the lab. She had seen to it that the Nieumann Lab was one of the best in the world, a cutting edge facility for biochemical and biomedical research. She wanted to know what Nakaguchi had done to it.

  And now, standing in the observation bay of Lab 1, she did. The dark and shriveled thing Nakaguchi had hauled back from the Andes looked totally out of place on the shining lab table. Its ugliness dominated the chamber. It looked as dead as any mummy she'd seen in a museum. Deader, possibly. Or maybe it was just the contrast with so much shining machinery dedicated to life.

  A bevy of technicians in green medical scrubs complete with masks were scattered around the periphery of the lab, setting up monitors, manning workstations, and adjusting machines. Some stood in clumps, discussing things in voices that carried over the interphone as no more than a buzz. One figure separated itself from a clump and walked toward the observation window. The man bowed toward the observation bay. Pamela noted the caduceus symbol on his greens and read the name tag: Hasukawa.

  "I am ready to begin the preliminary examination, Nak-aguchi-sama," Hasukawa said.

  "Proceed, Hasukawa-san."

  "Is that Matsuo Hasukawa?" Pamela asked.

  Without taking his eyes away from the scene in the lab, Nakaguchi replied, "None other."

  Hasukawa was a world-renowned geriatrics specialist. What expertise did he bring to the examination of a centuries-old corpse? Why was he here at all? "Just what are you trying to prove here, Nakaguchi? Your 'sleeper' hasn't shown any sign of being more than a well-preserved mummy."

  "You're mistaken, Ms. Martinez."

  "Unfortunately," Hagen said.

  Hasukawa moved to the table and began his examination. Whatever the doctor was doing, it wasn't particularly visible from the observation bay. She turned her attention to the others in the lab, trying to make sense out of the collection of machines and the contents of the displays. One of the untended monitors blipped to life, a green squig
gle tracing a sluggish path across the screen.

  Someone in the lab shouted.

  Hasukawa was staggering away from the examination table, clutching at his chest. He fell to the floor. Technicians abandoned their stations and rushed to the fallen doctor.

  "It looks like a heart attack," said someone. "He's fading

  fast."

  Nakaguchi leaned over the mike for the interphone. "Get him to the hospital."

  One of the green-coated men around the fallen Hasukawa looked up at the window. He had a caduceus on his greens. "I don't think there's time. Best we work on him here. We have everything we need."

  "Respiratory arrest," one of the others said.

  The doctor started to turn back, but Nakaguchi's shout froze him.

  "I said get him to the hospital. That is standard procedure. That is what you will do. You may accompany him if you wish."

  The doctor gave the window a last glance and went to work on Hasukawa. Nakaguchi turned to one of his aides, Kurita, the security specialist. "See that my orders are carried out."

  "Ho!" Kurita said with a sharp bow. It was the sort of precision you saw in old samurai vids and it chilled Pamela. The aide left the observation bay at a run. In seconds he was in the lab with a squad of security men and a gurney. They pulled the doctor away from his resuscitation attempt and loaded Hasukawa onto the gurney. The doctor glared at the window for a second, then ran after the departing security men.

  Pamela stared at Nakaguchi. The doctor in the lab was right; by the time they reached the hospital, it would likely be too late to revive Hasukawa. Nakaguchi was condemning him to death.

  "You'll be to blame if he dies."

  Nakaguchi turned to look at her. "Doctor Hasukawa was an old man. It is unfortunate, but old men die."

  Pamela had a sudden realization. "You knew this was going to happen."

  Nakaguchi maintained an infuriatingly bland expression.

  "Was it something about the corpse? Is that it? Is it some sort of bacteria?"

  "First of all, Quetzoucoatl is no corpse. Second of all, there are no bacteria involved. That should be obvious even to someone of your limited vision. We were all exposed to him in his resting place and none of us fell ill. How could you even imagine that bacteria might be the explanation?"