Rath's Gambit (The Janus Group Book 2) (20 page)

Where are you, Paisen?

He searched for the “Potfin” alias Beauceron had given him, and the record appeared. Rath smiled.

Almost there.

Next he tapped on the
Locate
button. The computer drew a map onscreen, zooming out to the show the city outside the compound. Then it focused in on one sector, and a glowing dot appeared with the name
Potfin
next to it. The dot was moving deeper into the city. Rath pulled a phone out of his pocket and then created a data connection between the computer terminal and phone, checking to make sure the phone correctly identified Paisen’s location. Then he put the phone away. He was about to shut down the computer when a new message arrived in the staffer’s inbox.

Morning Update: Conditions for materials collection operations continue to deteriorate. Though radiation levels remain constant, bands of rogue prisoners continue to aggressively patrol sectors within the city and disrupt collection efforts. Drone surveillance and analysis indicates the bands are affiliated with the ‘Warrior’ element, who may be searching for Prisoner Suli Potfin after her confrontation with a ‘Warrior’ inmate eleven days ago. Per company policy, drones will continue to monitor and report; no interventions will be conducted. Analysis suggests that Prisoner Potfin has a high likelihood of capture. Her capture will put an end to the disruptions, and enable collections to continue relatively unhampered. However, quarterly collection quotas are off-target by more than thirteen percent …

Rath closed the message and swore. He grabbed his Forge and jogged out of the office area, heading for the prisoner yard, and the city beyond. 

20

The marble floor of the church was cold against Paisen’s naked back, but she resisted the urge to shiver. Above her, surrounded by a ring of seven of his tattooed soldiers, Mats shucked off his tactical vest, dropping it on the floor next to his discarded gun belt. Then the gang leader grinned wickedly and knelt, unbuckling his pants.

“On my planet, it’s customary for a gentleman to kiss his girl before he fucks her,” Paisen reproached him.

Mats obliged, leaning forward to kiss her. Paisen kissed him back passionately, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding him in place for a long moment. With an impatient growl, Mats broke off the kiss and then leaned back, swinging and landing a wicked punch on her jaw. Paisen’s head rocked back, cracking into the stone altar. She grunted in pain.

“On my planet, women know their place,” Mats told her. He pushed her legs apart. “I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work.”

Paisen stretched her neck, wincing at the soreness in her jaw. “Oh? What am I trying to do?”

“You’re trying to fool me into thinking you’re going to enjoy this. You won’t – not by the time we’re all done.”

Paisen smiled. “I’m already enjoying this.”

Mats frowned, and felt around the inside of his mouth with his tongue, then licked his lips. His frown deepened. Paisen watched him closely. The Warrior leader cleared his throat experimentally, and then coughed for several seconds.

“Tastes a little coppery, with a hint of mint?” Paisen guessed. “That’s botulinum toxin, manufactured by my hemobots. It’s going to induce full-body paralysis in the next fifteen seconds.” She blew him a kiss.

“The fuck …?” Mats managed, and then started coughing again. A panicked expression crept over his face, and he stuck his fingers down his throat, but before he could retch, his body gave a mighty twitch, and he collapsed across Paisen. In the sudden silence, a long, wheezing sigh escaped his lips, echoing through the church.

“Anyone else want a kiss?” Paisen asked. She heard a nervous cough from below the altar. “No? Okay, then. You: skull boy.” She pointed her chin at the Warrior who had captured her. “Your boss is in cardiac arrest. That means we have less than five minutes until brain damage sets in from lack of oxygen. But I have the antidote – I can save him, just get me out of these cuffs.”

Shaken out of his shock, the soldier glanced at another tattooed Warrior, who carried a crossbow slung across his back. “Cover me,” he told the man. He handed his pistol to the Warrior next to him, drew a knife from a shoulder sheath, and then knelt next to Paisen.

“You’ll save him?” the Warrior asked, placing the knife on her throat.

“Yes. But I can’t do it with these cuffs on.”

“Be careful, man,” the Warrior with the crossbow advised. Paisen noted that he had the crossbow pointed at her face – most of the rest of her body was covered by Mats’ inert form. “Just take one hand out.”

“One hand is enough,” Paisen assured them.

The Warrior with the bird skull pulled a key out of his back pocket, then fumbled with the cuff on Paisen’s left hand. It popped open with an audible
click
.

Paisen grabbed the Warrior by the shirt and yanked him forward, slamming his face into the iron hook on the front of the altar. The man screamed, and Paisen felt the knife slip off her throat, his blood spilling across her face as he fell to one side. But she was already twisting herself under Mats’ body, shifting him upwards with a mighty heave. She heard the crossbow twang as the other Warrior fired at her a split second later, but she was shielded by her unconscious would-be rapist, who took the bolt in the shoulder. With her sole free hand, Paisen grabbed the wounded Warrior’s knife, and sent it spinning into the chest of the Warrior with the auto-pistol. It was a weak throw, but enough to wound him. With a free leg, she sought out and found Mats’ pistol belt, and slid it up to her hand. She drew the revolver smoothly, and then opened fire.

The gun moved in a blur, as Paisen worked her way around the Warriors with cold efficiency. She watched the fifth and final Warrior fall to his knees, a neat bullet hole through his temple. The gunshots echoed off the cathedral’s stone walls, and then the building fell deadly silent. From under Mats, Paisen pointed the revolver at the remaining gang members standing below the altar. She panned slowly over the group.

“One round left: who wants it?”

Several of the gang members traded looks. By unanimous, unspoken decision, they turned and fled the church. Paisen pushed Mats off her, then sat up, pulling her right hand off the hook on the altar. She collected an auto-pistol from the floor, checked that it was loaded, then reloaded the revolver, handing it to Grip.

“Keep a lookout,” she told him.

“What?” Grip said, still in shock.

“In case they come back.” She pointed at the open door to the church, exasperated. “Watch for more of them, I need to get dressed.”

Paisen made sure he had the revolver pointed at the door and then retrieved the handcuff key, unlocking her other hand. She unlocked Grip as well, and then she dressed, replacing the shirt Mats had cut up with a tank top from one of the dead Warriors.

“Uh, someone’s coming in,” Grip said, as she finished pulling the tank top on. She turned and saw a man wearing a backpack slip through the door, auto-rifle at the ready, scanning the room.

“Friendly,” he announced, pointing his rifle at the floor. “Don’t shoot.” He jogged up the church’s main aisle, and stopped below the altar. “Do you recognize me?” he asked Paisen.

She nodded curtly. “Put your revolver down,” she ordered Grip. “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked Rath.

He looked over the carnage on the floor. “Uh, rescuing you?”

Paisen snorted in disgust. “You’re a little late.”

“To be fair, we had an appointment elsewhere that you’re a little late to, as well,” Rath pointed out. “I came here to bust you out.”

“Well, that was stupid,” Paisen told him.

“What?”

“That was stupid. I’ll be out of here legally in less than a year, you couldn’t just wait?”

Rath was momentarily at a loss for words. “It took a lot of effort to find you. I just broke into a high-max penal facility for you!”

Paisen shook her head angrily. “You should have just laid low. Can you exfiltrate without anyone noticing?”

Rath’s jaw dropped. “You want me to just leave?”

“Can you?” Paisen asked.

“I mean, I can leave … but I had to kidnap two civilian employees. They’re going to tell someone about that.”

“Fuck,” Paisen swore. “Well, then what’s your plan for getting out of here?”

“You need that tracker on your ankle off – the Forge should be able to atomize it, no problem. Then we go back to the compound, we mimic the civilians I tied up, and simply walk out.”

Paisen sighed. “Damn it. Alright, let’s get to it.”

Grip raised his hand. “Hey, can I come with you guys?” he asked.

“No,” they said, simultaneously.

21

Dasi finished revising the press release and then stood up, stretching to get the kinks out of her neck. She decided another coffee was in order, so she headed for the break room, but as she rounded the corner, she bumped into Senator Lizelle.

“Oh! Sorry, sir,” she told him.

“No, excuse me,” he said. “I was actually looking for you, Dasi. Can I steal you for a minute?”

“Of course,” she told him.

“I need to make a little trip across Anchorpoint,” he told her, leading the way to the front of the office. “Do you mind tagging along?”

“Not at all,” she lied.

The senator checked his watch, then picked up his pace. Dasi continued to smile, but unconsciously her hand touched the outside of her slacks pocket. She felt a brief second of panic when she remembered her phone was still at her desk. Lizelle seemed to catch the gesture out of the corner of his eye, but if he noticed it, he said nothing. Dasi smiled to cover her nerves.

Lizelle led her down the office corridor to his private docking bay, where two of his Senate Guards stood waiting.

I wish Inuye were here.

The thought made her realize that she was alone with the senator for the first time since their encounter back on Emerist.

And Charl never goes anywhere with just one other staffer during the week – there’s always a few of us tagging along, keeping him up to date, or multi-tasking …

She swallowed and tried to smile at him. “Just us?” she asked.

“Hm?” Lizelle asked. “Oh, yeah – I suppose so. After you,” he told her, gesturing to the shuttle bay door.

You’re just being paranoid. It wasn’t a month ago that you were infatuated with this man, now you’re afraid of him?

She steeled herself and walked onto the shuttle.

Per their standard practice, the two security personnel sat up front with the pilot, leaving Dasi and Lizelle alone in the passenger seating compartment. It was a small shuttle – Lizelle just used it to travel between the major ships clustered around Anchorpoint, to various meetings that he deemed important enough to take in person. But it was large enough that they had some privacy. Lizelle took a deep breath, and leaned forward in his seat.

“Dasi,” he said. “I received a phone call a few days ago. It’s been weighing on my mind. Weighing heavily, I should say.”

“Oh?” she asked. She tried to keep her voice neutral. “What about?”

He looked down at the floor, reluctant to meet her gaze. “It was from an Assistant District Attorney by the name of Yellen,” he said.

A shiver of fear ran down Dasi’s back. “A friend of yours?”

“An acquaintance,” Lizelle said. “In some ways, I’m immensely relieved he called me. In other ways, I wish … well, it’s too late for that now.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Dasi said. She wondered if her heartbeat was as loud as it suddenly seemed.

Lizelle finally looked her in the eye. “Dasi, I love you – you know I do. Why didn’t you come to me first?”

She shook her head, tears welling her eyes. “We were afraid,” she managed.

Lizelle took her hand. “I understand. But you never have to be afraid of me, okay?”

Dasi nodded nervously, resisting the urge to take her hand back.

“You need to understand,” Lizelle continued. “What you uncovered, it’s too big of a secret. And the people that want that to remain a secret, they don’t think they can trust you to keep that secret. Do you see?”

Dasi shook her head. “I don’t know what you want …,” she said.

“Other people that are involved in this would prefer a more … definite … way of ensuring you don’t ever talk about this.”

Dasi’s eyes went wide, and she shook her head. “No … no, please Charl ….”

Lizelle shushed her. “Shh, no. I know I can trust you to keep this secret. I just had to convince them that their way wouldn’t be necessary. And eventually, they listened. But you can’t stay here, you need to go away for a while.”

“Where?” she asked.

“Somewhere safe, but isolated. And I need you to promise me: do whatever is asked of you along the way. Can you do that?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Good. I promise you, you won’t be harmed,” he assured her.

“Okay,” Dasi said. “I’m sorry, Charl, I just … we didn’t know what to do!”

“It’s okay,” he reassured her. “This will all be fixed, in time. We just need to show them you’re not a threat.”

“I’m not, I promise,” she sobbed. “I wish Khyron had never figured it out at all, honestly.”

“I know, me too.”

She sniffed, and then straightened up in her seat.
Khyron!

“Charl, where’s Khyron? Is he meeting us there?”

* * *

The female detective nodded to the uniformed officer at the door to the apartment, and then entered. She had to step carefully over an older woman’s body in the hall, before continuing into the living room. The crime scene tech emerged from the bathroom as she approached, and waved when he saw her.

“Hey.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the bathroom. “I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you.”

“Bad?” the detective asked.

“Nightmarish.”

Curious, she peeked around the door, and then blanched. “Jesus fucking Christ. That’s the victim?”

“What’s left of him. Khyron Jorian, co-signer on the apartment’s lease along with Dasi Apter. That’s
not
her in the front hall, by the way,” the tech told her.