Blackcollar: The Judas Solution (34 page)

Daasaa made a strange sounding rumbling noise. "Dae yae know all o' Silcox's novenents in that 'eriod?" Bailey winced. "No, Your Eminence, we don't."

"Then such analysis is unlikely to 'e 'ery usekhul, is it?"

"Probably not," Bailey conceded.

"Meanwhile, we also need to worry about what else this spy of theirs has told them," Ramirez said. "Isn't there some way to tell who else they've hit with this damned Whiplash?"

"We're still analyzing the tests we ran on General Poirot," Bailey said. "So far, we haven't found any detectable changes in his biochemistry."

"That's handy," Ramirez muttered.

"For someone," Bailey agreed grimly, looking back at the Ryqril. "And we can't just suspend or lock up all the possibilities, either—we don't have enough alternates to step into their places. Everyday operations would grind to a halt."

"I expect we're going to have to run everyone in the government through a second round of loyalty-conditioning," Poirot said. "Myself being first, of course," he added, looking at Ramirez.

"That rill not hel' us now," Halaak growled. "It rill take tae long."

"Actually, time may not be as short as we thought," Bailey said, bracing himself. Given the mood the Ryqril were in, there was no way to predict how they were going to react to this particular bit of news. "It appears that our missing blackcollar did indeed come to Denver this morning." The two Ryqril exchanged looks. "Yae are certain?" Daasaa asked.

"Yes," Bailey said, on solid ground for a change. "The various recordings clearly show all five blackcollars were present during the rescue, the four from Plinry and Kanai."

"Then he is not in Aegis," Halaak rumbled.

"
Aegis
?" Poirot echoed, turning startled eyes on Bailey.

"No, Your Eminence, he's not," Bailey confirmed, throwing a warning look at Poirot as he silently cursed Halaak's careless tongue. He'd worked very hard to make sure the fact that they knew about Aegis's back door stayed strictly between the three of them. Now, Poirot and Ramirez knew it, too.

"'Erha's that neans they no longer need the 'ase," Daasaa said, his tone suggesting the kind of fate that Bailey could expect if the opportunity to get into Aegis had slipped through their fingers.

"I'm certain they'll need to go back in," Bailey said quickly. "Whatever the blackcollars came here for, this rescue couldn't have been more than just a little detour. They're still going to need whatever resources are in there."

"'Erha's," Daasaa said again. "Re shall see."

* * *

They'd found some food, and they'd had some rest; and now Foxleigh stood beside Jensen at the end of the road. "So this is what you came all this way for?" he murmured, his voice hushed with a reverence he hadn't realized he could still feel. "This is what you hiked through the wilderness and fought bears to get to?"

"This is it," Jensen confirmed. "Why? Don't you think it'll deliver a sufficiently big bang?" Foxleigh took a deep breath as he looked up at the sleek fighter stretched out in front of them, crouched on its landing skids like a mountain lion preparing to spring. "No, I think a functional Talus-6 interceptor will pack all the bang you could possibly want," he assured the blackcollar. And with that, Foxleigh's moment of reverence vanished. Even an advanced fighter was, after all, only a tool. A simple means to an end. "What exactly are you planning to do with it?" he asked, running a hand over the coating of dust to expose a hand-lettered word written on the underside missile rack.

"What do you think I want with it?" Jensen countered, giving him an odd look.

"There's more than one possibility." Foxleigh pointed to the word he'd uncovered. "See this?" Jensen craned his neck. " 'Gotterdammerung'?"

"It's the old Germanic version of 'doomsday,' " Foxleigh explained. "A composer named Richard Wagner wrote about fourteen hours of opera about it." He tapped the metal. "The point is that there are enough kilotons packed away in here to make sure the Ryqril never take anything out of the mountain except radioactive slag."

"I'm not destroying Aegis," Jensen said firmly. "It's resisted the Ryqril too long for us to just blow it up."

"Then what
are
you doing?" Foxleigh persisted. "You think a single fighter dodging Corsairs over North America is going to do anyone any good?"

"Depends on what you mean by
any good
," Jensen said. "What does any of this have to do with you, anyway?"

"I just want to make sure you're not going to blow up the fighter and the base with me still in it," Foxleigh said, backpedaling quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was start Jensen wondering. Not until they had the Talus prepped, anyway.

"Don't worry about it," Jensen assured him. "As soon as I'm sure I won't need extra hands, you'll be heading for home."

"I appreciate that," Foxleigh said. As if he intended to do anything of the sort. "You have any idea how to prep this thing?"

"Not really," Jensen conceded. "But I'm sure the procedural manuals are on file around here somewhere."

"Probably," Foxleigh agreed. "Let's go find them."

* * *

"So Kevin's still a prisoner?" Anne asked, her tone flat and dark and accusing.

"I'm afraid so," Skyler said, not any happier about it than Anne was. "I don't know why they picked him, unless it was because they already had a look-alike on hand."

"Instead of looking for someone to blame," Reger spoke up from his usual seat in the corner, "you might try a little gratitude that Skyler was able to identify the substitution so quickly. If he hadn't, we'd probably
all
be in Athena right now."

"I know," Anne said, lowering her eyes. "I just ... you're sure it
wasn't
Kevin?"

"I'm positive," Skyler said. "He knew the password, and he could easily have passed as the man in the photo you showed us. Security's mistake was that they weren't as confident as they should have been and tried to hedge their bets."

"You mean the hoods?" Reger asked.

Skyler nodded. "Poirot must have thought that once we did the password check we might be too rushed to take them off, especially given how solidly the things had been taped in place. That would have postponed any close-up exam for a while, maybe even until we were back here or someplace equally vulnerable to a surprise attack."

"Only they also wouldn't want their spy traveling blind," Hawking added. "Hence, the trick hood."

"Which looked opaque from the outside but was reasonably transparent from the inside," Skyler finished. "Fortunately, we were expecting something like that and checked all the hoods. The one calling himself Dorfman was the only one who flunked."

"So how do we get him out?" Anne said, clearly not impressed by the blackcollars' on-the-spot detective work. "And Rob's still missing, too."

"I don't know how to answer that," Skyler conceded. "I doubt they'll be foolish enough to try this bait-and-raid stunt again."

"You did get into Athena once before," Flynn reminded him.

"Different time, different circumstances," Skyler said. "We'd never be able to pull off something like that again."

"So what you're saying is that they're stuck there?" Anne demanded.

"Anne," Reger said warningly. "It wasn't Skyler's fault." Anne took a deep breath, and Skyler could see the counterargument flickering across her eyes. If the blackcollars hadn't come blasting into town ... "I know," she said at last, her voice suddenly very tired.

"I'm sorry, Skyler."

"I'm sorry, too," Skyler said. "It's never easy to lose comrades."

"But don't forget that these aren't necessarily lost," O'Hara added. "As long as they're alive, there's always hope."

"Which almost makes it worse," Anne said. "If they were dead, there would at least be some closure. This way ..." She shook her head. "Never mind. The point is that five of them
are
free. I should be content with that." She got to her feet. "I should also be helping Kanai get them settled. Good night, everyone."

"Good night," Skyler said for all of them.

Anne stepped to the doorway. There she paused, turning to touch eyes with each of them. "And thank you," she said.

Turning again, she left the room, closing the door behind her. "Some people are never satisfied," Hawking commented.

"You can add me to that list," Skyler said as he slumped tiredly in his chair. The rescue had worked, pretty much exactly the way he'd planned it. He should be content. Hell, he should be
ecstatic
. But he wasn't.

"I wonder how Jensen's spending his evening," O'Hara murmured.

Skyler grimaced. Jensen. One more failure to chalk up to his leadership, except that this failure had the potential to blossom into a full-bore disaster. "We'll find out tomorrow," he said. "Flynn, did you get Trapper off all right?"

"He was fine when he headed out from here," Flynn confirmed. "Though of course he'll probably find Security waiting on his doorstep, who may or may not buy his story about being abducted at knifepoint."

"Maybe we can do something for him after we corral Jensen," Skyler said. Dorfman, Jensen, and now Trapper. The far end of this plan just kept throwing off loose ends.

"Assuming the whole town isn't already locked up in Athena," Flynn murmured.

"If they are, they are," O'Hara said firmly. "Focus on what can be changed, not on what can't." He lifted his eyebrows at Skyler. "Good advice for all of us," he added.

"I never said otherwise," Skyler replied evenly.

"So when are we heading out?" Hawking asked.

"About noon, I think," Skyler said. "That should get us in by midafternoon."

"Cutting it a bit thin, aren't you?" Hawking suggested. "After we get to Shelter Valley we still have to hike to the back door
and
then walk the rest of the way to the base itself."

"I know," Skyler said. "But Trapper said afternoon is when the traffic that direction is the heaviest."

"And it isn't particularly heavy even then," Flynn said. "We might want to use Trapper's secondary route, the one that meanders around through a few other small towns before getting to Shelter Valley."

"That might throw the bloodhounds off the trail a bit," O'Hara agreed. "But it'll also cost us more time."

"Command decision time, Skyler," Reger said.

Skyler looked across the room at the window, heavily curtained against the possibility of prying eyes.

"We'll sleep on it," he said. "I'll make the final decision in the morning." He looked at the others, half expecting an argument. But all he got were nods of agreement. "Then let's get to it," he said. "It's been a very long day. Reger, once again our thanks for your assistance."

"Show your thanks when the Ryqril have been thrown out," Reger countered. "Until then, feel free to run a tab." Nodding to the others, he left the room.

"Opportunistic SOB, isn't he?" O'Hara commented.

"Absolutely," Hawking agreed. "I wish we could get some of that same self-interest into the people Anne wasted her Whiplash on."

"Different mind-set," O'Hara said. "Anne's pigeons were all bureaucrats. Cogs in a machine. Reger's the type who wants to run the machine."

"I suppose," Hawking said. "You think we're really going to pull this off?" Skyler shrugged. "Depends on Lathe," he said. "If his plan works—but what am I saying? Of
course
his plan will work. His plans
always
work."

"That sounds like fatigue talking," Hawking warned, getting out of his chair with an elaborate stretch.

"Lathe's had plenty of failures, and he'd be the first to admit them."

"I suppose," Skyler said, feeling a touch of shame for his guilt-driven sarcasm. "Still, I'd bet money that whatever's happening on Khala, he's got it under control."

"I'm sure he does," O'Hara agreed. "Go get some sleep, Skyler. I'll take the first watch."
CHAPTER 15

They sneaked into Caine's cell right on schedule, three hours after he'd let his breathing settle into the slow rhythm of sleep. Security was nothing, he reflected, if not predictable. But as he opened his eyes to slits he realized that someone had decided to alter the usual script. Instead of one man sneaking in to fix the blocked shower-stall camera while his partner covered him from the doorway, this time there were
two
men in the room, one angling toward the shower while the other came straight toward Caine's bunk. Possibly to check the second camera setup there; more likely to hold a paral-dart gun pointed at the prisoner. A third man, as usual, stood guard in the doorway. Still, it wasn't a fatal change, but simply meant that Caine's attack pattern would have to be altered. Maintaining his slow breathing, he got a grip on the edge of his mattress and waited for just the right moment. The first guard stopped at the foot of the bunk beds as the second reached the shower, his back turning to Caine as he reached up to fix the camera.

And in that instant, Caine moved.

He slid his legs out from under the blanket and rolled off the bed onto the floor, pulling the mattress up over him as he went. The guard at the foot of the bed inhaled sharply, and before Caine had even hit the floor there was the
crack
of a paral-dart gun.

But darts whose loads had been scaled to penetrate the thin jumpsuit without tearing the underlying flesh to shreds were no match for the foam-filled mattress. A second shot got lost among the foam pellets as Caine hit the floor and rolled back onto his feet. Draping the mattress over the top of his head like an old admiral's hat gone limp, he grabbed the rear bunk support for balance and threw a blind roundhouse kick at his attacker. His foot caught the other squarely in the side of the head, slamming him into the wall and sending his gun clattering off into the darkness.

There was no time to go hunting for the weapon, but Caine didn't especially want it anyway. Throwing a second kick into the man for insurance, he headed across the room to try to cut off the other intruder, whom he could hear making a frantic break for the door. From the doorway guard came a reflexive one-two shot at Caine's torso, the tiny darts joining the others inside the flopping mattress. And then, finally, the man woke up to the reality of the situation. His next pair of shots, aimed below the edge of the mattress, slammed squarely into Caine's legs.