Robert Charrette - Arthur 01 - A Prince Among Men (19 page)

The inventory was there, so he opened it. As Spae had suggested, although some artifacts from the Romano-Brithomc exhibit had sustained damage, all were accounted for. Holger wasn't sure how he felt about that. He didn't like having Spae's magical work made real; magic didn't belong in what, while it might have been chaotic, was at least a rational world. At the same time, he was supposed to be working with Spae, and partners were supposed to be familiar with each other's capabilities. She had shown that she was competent in one of the aspects of her specialty. But how could he have confidence in such an unnatural skill?

The only things shown missing were a robe and a replica sword belonging to the museum's outreach program. Too bad something important hadn't gone missing. The nature of such an object might have held a clue as to the perpetrators of the incident. And stolen objects were real, physical things, things that could be traced.

Holger switched over to Sergeant Willis's preliminary report. The missing objects weren't noted; Holger found them listed as missing, though, when he checked previous reports of petty theft at the museum. Curious. The night watchman—one John Reddy, a student at the university— was officially listed as missing. A patrol car sent to the rezcom where he lived with his mother reported that he had not returned home on the night of the incident. Mrs. Reddy had been asked to call the police if she heard from him, but no such call had been logged as yet. Willis speculated that the charred corpse was Reddy's, but noted that initial analysis of the corpse was inconclusive pending authorization of funds to do DNA matching. Willis offered no reason for the watchman's death or the shoot-out in the gallery. Clearly, the police were puzzled.

So was Holger. By now the police should have realized from a simple comparison of physical data that the corpse, whoever he was, was not John Reddy. Why hadn't they?

Disconnecting from the police system, Holger placed a call to the museum. Once he transmitted his Commission ID, he received courteous and efficient service. The head of personnel herself transmitted him the files on everyone present at the museum on the day of the incident. Holger was only interested in one. He opened Reddy's small file, called up

the biographical data, and saw immediately that something
had
changed. Reddy's height and weight were not the same as they had been two nights ago.

Someone was working to make it appear that Reddy was the corpse.

The woods out in back of the school weren't much, but they were al! Kari had. They were where she went to be nlone, to get away from the things she didn't like, to pretend that the world was all a forest and she was the keeper. Today was one of those days when she really needed the peace of her safe forest. She headed for her favorite place, faying not to think about any of the awful things that were happening outside her forest.

Once she had settled into the hollow by the fallen tree, she knew today wasn't an ordinary day in her forest. Something was, well, not wrong exactly, but different. Maybe the birds were too quiet, or not quiet enough. Something, anyway.

She sat quietly, listening. She thought that, if she was very quiet, she would hear what was different. Her eyes roved the brush and trees, searching.

Slowly, she became certain that she was not alone in the woods today.

She got that itchy feeling she got when Kevin Luckner was looking at her when he thought she didn't know. She turned her head, but not all the way. She knew how to do that. She did that when she got the itchy feeling, turned her head just enough that she could see Kevin there, watching her, but not enough that he'd know she was noticing.

There was someone—or something—there. It wasn't Kevin Luckner, but she wasn't sure who or what it was. She turned her head a little farther and the watcher shifted warily. All she could see was a white shape among the trees.

She knew she ought to be scared, but she wasn't.

"Hello?"

The watcher didn't answer her. But didn't leave either. Very, very slowly she tamed farther.

It was an animal. It looked like a pony, but it wasn't any breed she'd ever looked at in her vids. She didn't notice the long spiral horn on its forehead until the animal stepped around the fallen tree.

It couldn't be a unicorn; they were just in fairy stories.

With delicate, almost hesitant steps, the animal that couldn't be a unicorn came up to her and folded its front knees until it was kneeling at her side. She smelled the warm animal scent of it as it stretched out its neck toward her. The weight of its head was heavy as it rested its chin in her lap. Even through her jeans its breath felt hot and moist on her thigh. She stroked its mane and was amazed at how soft and silky it felt. Afraid that she would break the illusion, she reached out and touched the animal's horn. Hard, rough, and very, very solid.

It was real!

She buried her head against the unicorn's neck and cried for joy.

"Your report is somewhat lacking in detail, Mr. Sorli." Pamela Martinez shook the hardcopy report at him. She was not pleased, and she didn't mind letting her anger show. "Given the week you've taken to submit it, I expected something more substantive."

"Some things are best not recorded," he responded blandly.

"Such as your responsibility in the death of William Tobias?"

"It was unfortunate."

"It was unnecessary."

"Unfortunate," Sorli repeated emphatically. "There is no reason for the truth to be recorded where anyone can read it and learn of our investigations. Let the record show that his death was the result of an industrial accident, and that the body was sufficiently mutilated to preclude an open-coffin ceremony. No one will question such statements. Will you be attending the funeral service tomorrow?"

She ignored his question. "You perpetrated this He without my permission."

"He died honorably and well. His family deserves the full benefits of his sacrifice. Without the lie, your generous Mit-sutomo would dispense no benefits to his family."

True, employees killed or injured while engaged in illegal activities were divorced from the Keiretsu's family. But, she added, "That is not the issue."

Sorli had a ready answer for that. "I acted in accordance with your mandate that we conceal the true nature of our operations."

Damn the man! It
did
make sense, if only to cover their own butts. Still, she wanted to see him squirm over it; he deserved to squirm. "A good man has died and you have achieved nothing."

"Oh, not nothing." He folded his hands casually. "You have no head on your wail, but I think that you no longer doubt the existence of the otherworld. This is not only desirable but necessary. The stakes have increased and the task has grown more difficult."

"I'm not in the mood for your riddles." Or for his manipulation. But he was right, she did believe. God help her. He knew more of this matter than she did. She still needed him, but she'd be damned if she'd let him think he was in charge. "1 am not satisfied with the results you have achieved."

"Nor am I," he interrupted.

"You have implicated a Mitsutomo dependent in these events, but there's nothing in the report of a substantive nature. More things best left unrecorded?"

"For the moment. I have ascertained that John Reddy was contacted by an agent of the otherworld operating under the name Bennett at least once prior to the museum breakthrough. Likely his presence that night was arranged. This incident and his subsequent disappearance confirm his collusion. We should have been more vigilant."

"Vigilant?"

"His name was on one of our lists of possible agents. Admittedly, a low-priority listing. Our enemy achieved a success against us with his placement."

"And who is this enemy?"

"That remains an open question."

"I want answers, not questions."

"There is more work to be done. More preparations to be made. You have my requests for funding. Grant them."

"You'll give me answers?"

"Whether you like them or not."

The requests were all listed on her monitor. All were reasonable in their phrasing, all looked legitimate. All were euphemisms or outright lies. She hit the execute key, authorizing the expenditures. "It's done. Now get out of here and do your job."

Damn! He'd thought he'd tightened that bolt.

The vibrations from working on the others must have loosened it. Carlos shook his head and set to it again. Once he got the battery bolted down, he could crawl out from under the car and go inside for supper. Oh, for the good old days when cars had real engines instead of these electric motors.

Down the street he could hear some kids giggling. Probably laughing at him. Why not? Everybody around his new neighborhood thought old Carlos was a little odd for doing his own mechanic work, but where Carlos had grown up there hadn't really been any choice. He had gotten used to it. He actually enjoyed it most of the time.

But he hadn't gotten used to the cramped quarters under these electric jobs. His hand slipped and skinned his knuckles on a strut. Wrenching his hand away, he banged it again. Damn, damn, damn! Heedless of the dirt and grease, he sucked on his bruised knuckles.

Above his head, the nut he'd been working on dropped from the bolt, pinging on the concrete beside his head. The car above him rocked. Damn kids! He started to shout at them to take off, but stopped, eyes wide, as he saw the battery shift, sliding free of its mount. It couldn't be! He had tightened the other bolts.

The kids were still laughing when the heavy battery slid free and crashed down against his head. The pain almost put him right out, but he held on.

Concussion for sure. Maybe worse. His vision was graying, tunneling down. Had to crawl out, get Morena. She'd call the ambulance. He tried to move, but all he could do was roll his head to the side.

A pair of tiny, naked legs ran between the front and back tires. Scrawny legs, ending in broad feet with splayed, homy-nailed toes.

Hallucinations. The pain was causing hallucinat—

Spae's screech brought Holger bounding across the sitting room, Glock in hand. He hit the wall by the door, ready for trouble, but found her railing at her computer screen. He stayed by the door, out of the angle of the pickup, where he could see her monitor reflected in the mirror. Holger would show up if the people on the other end analyzed the image, but they probably wouldn't bother, and even if they did, it probably wouldn't matter; he was Spae's security, after all. Still, he thought it advisable to keep his presence discreet; she was talking to Charles Magnus.

"It's been two bloody weeks! Why wasn't I informed?" Spae's voice was pure outrage.

Magnus's response was calm, exaggeratedly so. "There is still debate concerning the meaning of the data we have acquired. Certain individuals didn't want you told anything, but I thought it best that you be brought in."

"Certain individ— Dagastino, I'll bet."

There was a sputtering noise from off screen on Magnus's side, and Holger knew Spae had named her chief adversary correctly.

"Let us leave personalities out of this and stick to the business at hand. Your perspective on recent events could be valuable, but your opinions will not be looked upon favorably if you will not confine yourself to business."

"Business, eh? Ail right Business. Have you finally realized that there's a connection with the incident here and having the Cornwall project blow up in your faces?"

"The timing is suggestive," Magnus agreed sourly. "Have you learned anything new?"

"I'm certain now that it was an important awakening. There were other forces involved."

"The team here agrees."

Spae went on to detail her procedures and their results. Magnus nodded and made encouraging murmurs, but Holger caught him glancing off to one side where, no doubt, one or more specialists were advising him as to the validity of Spae's procedures. No doubt the antagonistic Dr. Dagastino was among them.

"And the sleeper's identity?"

Spae snorted. "You know that as well as I."

"I
know
nothing of the sort, Doctor. I merely speculate, as do you. Until we can question this sleeper, we will not
know."

"That's Dagastino talking. He wouldn't
know
his own name without questioning his mother under Pentatel!™."

"We must be above petty rivalry, Doctor. If this sleeper is Arthur, we must acquire him."

"If you're so anxious to get him, send me some support. If I didn't have to do everything myself, I could be getting closer, faster."

"Frankly, Doctor, given the size of the energy fluctuation, several of us here feel that more than one sleeper may have been woken. There is no telling who your sleeper may be, but given your physical location, it seems unlikely that he is who you believe. Without solid data, we must continue to consider your operation in the USA as only one of several vital operations. Our resources are stretched trying to cover alternative possibilities."

Meaning that no more bodies were coming.

"Dagastino's got you tossing all of Wales and half of England, doesn't he?"