Eternity's End (79 page)

"What?"

"That boy—Bobby Mahoney?"

His pulse quickened. "What about him?"

Tracy-Ace had a look of intensity on her face; she was focused inward, on her augments. "A source on DeNoble found a record of the boy being taken from DeNoble to another outpost."

"Yes?"

"The trail ended there, from his point of view. But he thought that someone more highly placed might be able to pick it up."

Legroeder frowned. "Which leaves us where? Do you have someone more highly placed?"

"Well—KM/C is pretty highly placed."

Legroeder opened his mouth, closed it. "I thought you guys were practically mortal enemies!"

"Well... you'd be surprised how much we can compartmentalize our agreements and disagreements. There's a certain... I guess you could call it a code of—" She hesitated.

"What? Honor among thieves?"

Tracy-Ace reddened. "Basically, yes. I mean, a ship here and a ship there... it's almost like chips in a board game. That may sound cruel—"

"It
is
cruel."

"Yes, it is. But it's their way. You heard YZ/I talking about a bet he had with KM/C? Well, I've been leaning on him to include finding that boy and giving him his freedom, as part of the payoff when we win."

Legroeder was astounded. "Do you really think there's hope?"

"There's
always
hope."

"Harriet will be very happy to hear that," Legroeder said softly, almost to himself. Cocking his head, he asked, "Do you mind if I ask—what exactly
is
this bet?"

She shrugged, a little smile on her face. "You'll find out soon, I imagine."

"What's
that
supposed to mean?"

"You'll see. Promise."

"Rigger Legroeder," called one of the ship's officers from the hatch. "The captain is ready for departure."

"They need you." Tracy-Ace swallowed, gazing at him.

"I hate this," he said hoarsely.

"I do, too," Tracy-Ace whispered. She leaned into him and kissed him earnestly. "I love you, I think. Good-bye."

Legroeder still felt the pressure of her lips as he turned and boarded
Impris
.

Chapter 38

Going Public

The pursuit was getting faster. The Narseil driver, flying low through the suburban streets, had put some distance between the embassy van and their overhead pursuit; but another floater-van, a white one, had appeared out of nowhere to their left and was trying to pull alongside them.

"Stay down!" Peter ordered Harriet, before snapping another street direction to the Narseil driver.

My God, not again,
Harriet thought, recalling the attack on their approach to the McGinnis house. Could these people know about the McGinnis data? They'd already shown their willingness to kill.

Assistant Ambassador Dendridan had been on the com to the embassy. He leaned forward and spoke to the driver, then said to Harriet, "We're on our own for the next few kilometers. But we've got the edge, eh? I doubt
their
drivers can see into the future. Brace yourself."

An instant later, the restraint-field kicked on as the driver spun the van violently around an acute right turn, thrusters whining. The white van missed the turn, and could be heard, shrieking, trying to avoid other vehicles as it braked. The Narseil driver veered past two ground-cars and rocketed up a ramp onto a high-speed glideway. Before Harriet could catch her breath, they'd hurtled down the next ramp
off
the glideway, then careened around to get back on it, headed in the other direction.

"Carefully," Dendridan cautioned.

"Absolutely," said the driver.

"Hit it,"
said Peter. As they shot down the expressway, he craned his neck to look skyward for possible attack from above. "Our flyer friend is staying with us. Dendridan, you said they'd pick us up at Third and Park?"

"That's right," Dendridan said calmly. He looked at Harriet, his eyes widening. "Breathe, Mrs. Mahoney."

Harriet gasped; she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath.

Minutes passed. "About three seconds now," Peter said. They veered suddenly to the left and came down off a ramp into the downtown area. "There they are!" They were abruptly flanked by three green floaters similar to their own van. One cut directly behind them; the other two closed in on either side.

"Yours?" Harriet wheezed.

"Ours," Dendridan murmured. "Now, let's proceed home with all due speed, shall we?"

Peter peered back from the front seat with a crooked Clendornan grin. "I see we have police coming up behind. I wonder if they're here to stop us or protect us."

Harriet glanced back uneasily. She was still technically a fugitive for helping Legroeder jump bail; she didn't want to deal with the police right now. The diplomatic protection was no doubt causing strains in higher echelons; it might have its limits. She turned forward again. "Don't let the police stop us. How much farth—?"

Her question was cut off as the Narseil driver punched in full power, blasting through an intersection where the white van had just reappeared from the right. Peter started to say something, but was drowned out by a scream of thrusters and a sickening
CRUNCH!
Harriet looked back, horrified to see the right-flanking Narseil floater spinning around in the air, twisted together with the white van. "Mother of God," she breathed.

The sight was cut off as their own driver took one last turn, then blazed the final block to the entry gate of the Narseil Embassy. "We're in!" Peter cried, as the embassy gates opened to receive them. He craned his neck to look up, as the pursuing flyer peeled off into the sky.

"Very good," Dendridan said, as the van slowed to a stop in the underground parking garage. "Are you all right, Mrs. Mahoney?"

Harriet let her breath out with a shudder. "I'm fine. But what about your people back there?"

Dendridan was listening to the com. "We have help on the scene. Several of our staff members were hurt—apparently none seriously. I can assure you a protest will be filed. But in the meantime, we are safely back and I think we should get inside as quickly as possible."

Harriet looked out the window, where one of their escort-floaters had followed them into the compound. She sighed in gratitude. "Your people, they know how to provide a rescue squad, don't they?"

Dendridan's face creased in a Narseil smile. "If those people were willing to threaten a diplomatic floater, they must be very frightened of what we can do. Please, Mrs. Mahoney—let us go see how we can help you use this information you have gained."

As the embassy staff brought in beverages and platters of seafood and fruit, Peter set up equipment to replay the McGinnis-implant reading. "Counselor Corellay gave this reading a confidence level of nine," he explained to high-level embassy officials who had come in to see what the excitement was about. "That means we can use it in court. It carries roughly the weight of a notarized deposition—almost as much as verbal testimony."

"Let's view it," said Dendridan, who had just returned from briefing Ambassador Nantock.

Harriet set aside her cup of tea and took a seat. During the live reading, she had been absorbing impressions and getting the general picture. This time her lawyer's mind would be running at full speed.

The replay took two hours, with numerous pauses and backtrackings. But when it was done, Harriet's mind was afire with the import of what they had learned. They might not be able to convict anyone solely on the basis of this evidence, but it could be the wedge they needed to crack the whole conspiracy open. If they could get new investigations started, especially in the press, and if other sources could be persuaded that the conspiracy was crumbling and they should talk...

Harriet turned to speak to Dendridan and realized for the first time that Ambassador Nantock had joined them. He was an old Narseil, probably El'ken's contemporary. His grey-green scaled face was wrinkled in thought. He inclined his head toward her. "Mrs. Mahoney, I believe you've got some damning evidence here. It could strengthen the Narseil position on several matters that have concerned us for a long time." His gill openings billowed. "Spacing Authority collaboration with Centrist Strength—who openly advocate discord with our people? And possible links to the Kyber pirates?" The Narseil shook his head in amazement.

"Are you going to take an official position on this?" Harriet asked. "Or is there anything in particular you would like
me
to do?"

Ambassador Nantock raised his hands. "We will protest the entire chain of events—and all of the implications that go with it. We may attempt to enlist the help of Secretary General Albright. It is hardly a secret that Commissioner North and others have been pressuring us to give you up into their custody."

"No. Not a secret," Harriet said softly. Gratefully.

"Have no fear, Mrs. Mahoney. If your work is so dangerous to them that they have to resort to sending outlaw groups to stop you—"

"We don't actually have proof yet that there was any official involvement in that pursuit, Mr. Ambassador," Peter reminded him.

"Perhaps not," said the ambassador. "But we have good holo evidence of the vans that were pursuing you, and we have already linked one of them to Centrist Strength. And one link does tend to lead to another." Ambassador Nantock paused in thought. "If you were to publish your findings on the worldnet—and solicit information from anyone who might be willing to come forward—" he paused again, his neck-sail stiffening "—especially concerning the sale of weapons to Centrist Strength—"

"Then we just might flush the vermin into the light," Peter said.

Harriet nodded, thinking out loud. "Mr. North and his friends must be quite alarmed right now. And if they can be pressured into making a mistake—"

"Exactly," said the ambassador.

The detailed plan took the rest of the day to work out. Rather than posting the entire text of Counselor Corellay's reading for public view, they decided to create a summary, with a request for reply from anyone with direct knowledge of the facts. In addition, they would put up a discussion space for anyone who wanted to comment. By creating massive public awareness of the accusations, they hoped to generate as much pressure as possible on North, the Spacing Authority, and the RiggerGuild to come forward with a response. Harriet generally disapproved, in principle, of prosecution by publicity—and even now she felt a certain uneasiness in taking that route. But her reservations paled in light of the two attempts on her life.

As their preparations neared completion, Peter excused himself to take a call. When he returned, his eyes were lit up like tiny violet lanterns, and he wore a dazzling, crinkly grin on his face.

Harriet looked up from her compad. "What is it? You look like you've seen an angel."

"Almost that good," Peter said. "They have Maris! Morgan and Georgio and Pew. They're on their way back with her right now!"

Harriet whooped in delight. She jumped up and grabbed Peter and danced him in a circle. When she let go of Peter, she turned dizzily to Dendridan. "Do you think we could bring them here? Would you mind?"

"Mind?" said Dendridan. "We'd be delighted. Please send word to your people, and ask if they'd like a diplomatic escort."

Peter laughed. "I can already tell you, the answer is yes. But the way Pew drives, I wouldn't be surprised if they got here before your escort reached them."

Dendridan hissed a chuckle and spoke into his com-unit. "It is on its way," he said with a nod.

"Thank you," Harriet whispered.

"And now," said the Narseil, "weren't you almost ready to make that posting to the net?"

Harriet forced her gaze back to the screen, scanning the work they had done. "Yes," she said softly, and reached out to begin the transmission.

Jenkins Talbott poured himself a double shot of lace-bourbon and sat back in front of the com-console in his living room. The news feeds were coming in, and they were damned depressing.

Especially after his dressing down today, with Colonel Paroti and a few others, right there in the Strength offices...

"...What the hell's the matter with you people? You call yourselves soldiers? Officers? I send you on a few errands, and you can't get even the simplest, most basic things done right!" It was Ottoson North at his most arrogant—and since the man usually never even let himself be seen or associated with them in any way, you knew he was pissed. He'd been lighting into one of them after another. Now it was Talbott's turn. "You!" North pointed a finger right at Talbott's face. "You can't grab a comatose woman without getting shot to pieces—and then you come away empty-handed? Are you just incompetent, or were you
trying
to screw up?"

"Well, it wasn't quite like that—"

"And you!" North, ignoring Talbott's protests, turned next on Paroti. "I ask you to stop a van—
a fucking van! How hard can that be?
And you botched that one, too, even though I told you it was urgent, but you fucked it up, and now I've got this Mahoney bitch spreading lies about me all over the fucking worldnet!"

"We did our best, Commissioner," Paroti said, his face as red as a beet. "But since we were forbidden to use weapons..."

"Excuses! Don't give me excuses," North said in disgust. "Well, now we're knee-deep in shit. Listen, if I need your help, I expect you to be ready to jump when I say jump. Let's see if you morons can do it right, next time."

"Of course, sir," Paroti muttered. "If I might say—"

But North's holoimage had already winked out, leaving Paroti, Talbott, and other loyal Strength officers standing stunned
...

Humiliated.

Angry.

They didn't deserve this kind of crap.

Talbott squinted, sighing, looking around his living room as if he'd never seen it before. God, what a shithole. Had it always been this bad? Empty food cartons, dirty clothes, and data-cubes everywhere—not quite the military spit and polish. The damned place looked like it was going to seed. But then, so the fuck what? His living room was no one's business.