Wild Thing (56 page)

'Well, no.  Faith's rocket-intervention that night pre-empted a sniper in the hills out the back.  By approximately zero point three seconds, I was told.'

Shanahan blinked, rapidly.  'But- but even a sniper- those shields-'

Professor Sanders sighed.  Reaching inside his jacket he withdrew a heavy black case from his pocket and from it took a strange metal projectile: as long as his hand, yet as slender as a drinking straw, with twists of gold, silver, and black coiling through it.  It seemed to jump down onto the table, rather than fall.  Nor did it bounce; or roll, despite the slight tilt of the table surface; but sat heavily in place. 
Squatting
.

'Jesus!  What's that?'  Shanahan found himself instinctively drawing back from it.

'A special load for a Barrett AM16: a rather unique alloy with magic-piercing properties, I'm told.  Each one of these rounds costs approximately 8,000 credits, apparently.  This is a refinement of the design they had ready for d'Artelle just before she vanished.  Though this one is far smaller, designed to stun through hydrostatic shock rather than fragment and kill.  The plan was not to injure our patient so badly he could not have been healed.'

Shanahan paled.  'But… but even so, what about that damned
thing
that “followed” him, that everyone said was the
real
threat?'

At that, even Sanders looked bemused.  'Apparently, a key part of the whole exercise was the slender hope that Godsson and Sara together would deal with it, once and for all.'

'But how could
anyone
know they would succeed in that?  What kind of loonies made
that
decision?  How did they even know it was possible
to
do that?'

Sanders's expression reflected the same surprise.  'I asked the same question.  He said he has access to unusual information sources; that it was an outcome he'd been
hoping
for.  I rather gather, though, those hopes had not been high.'

Shanahan breathed out, not exactly in disbelief.  'And you say this feller is “very important for our country”?  Why?  Who is he?'

'I'm sorry, Brian, that's Need To Know.  But he did have a message he asked me to deliver especially to you.'

'To
me?'

'Yes.  He said that he is pleased with your role over the years – “your contributions toward a successful outcome” – but would encourage you to be a little less trusting in future.  But the key point he asked me to impress upon you was this: you are not to speak of Dr Harmon's and Sara's time here at the Institute to anyone, apart from myself – ever.  He asked me to emphasize the “ever”.  Do you understand?'

Shanahan stared at the Director, stared down at the disturbingly-deadly looking round on the table between them, then gulped the last of his coffee.

'I reckon I do, Professor.  By Jesus, I reckon I do.  A bit of a long planner, is he, your boss?  I reckon I wouldn't want to be working against
him
.'

Director Sanders nodded emphatically.  'Quite, Mr Shanahan.  Quite.'

For a while, then, they sat together in a surprisingly companionable silence; especially after Sanders picked up the disturbing munition and carefully put it away.  'Oh, there's one other thing I wanted to mention, too.'

Shanahan leaned back, wishing he hadn't finished his coffee already, and braced himself afresh.

'It's simply that with our major threat dealt with, the Institute is to return to its original purpose.  More patients, more personnel.  And because many of the victims will not be dangerous to others, there's even been talk of a companion-animal programme.'

Shanahan blinked, looking suddenly hopeful.

'That's right.  As well as some additional CK9 units for guard duties – and I rather hope Faith will prove able to pass on some of her unique training to a younger generation – there will also be other animals of a less-militarized nature brought in.'

Sanders pretended not to notice the moisture that suddenly appeared in his security officer's eyes.  'I'll run the plans past you.  You may wish to have a hand in the selection and introduction of Faith's new “pack,” eh?'

Sanders left the cafeteria.  It was nice to be able to give someone some good news, for a change.

Chapter 67 
 

Alex Harmon, and his ward, Sara, had never reached the metro police holding cells.  Instead, each had been transferred to a more secure facility.  Separately.  At the order of the head of the Bureau for Internal Development.

“Eagle” had Harmon brought in first.  The mage wore electronic goggles; his hands locked into rigid gloves.  He would be casting no spells.

From the instruments built into his desk, Eagle noted the mage-psychologist's elevated heart rate and cortisol levels, despite the air of calm confidence he projected.  The MEG readings only reinforced that assessment.

Eagle allowed the silence to grow.

Harmon forced himself to relax.  Settling back as best he could against the straight-backed chair, he looked at his bound hands; then began counting the elements designed to induce tension and fear.  His eyebrows raised slightly as the count steadily mounted, and he smiled into his interrogator's now-frowning face. 
Just who were these people?
  Every indication suggested government, but was that genuine, or a deception?  'You're not the police,' he said at last. 'Yet you are able to command the police force.'

There was no reply.

'I have not been charged, and my requests to see my ward have been denied.  You do have Sara, I assume?'

Again, Eagle said nothing; although he did nod.

'So Sara and I may be of use to your organization,' Harmon mused aloud.  'Which means you don't really wish to bring criminal charges against her.  Which, by extension, would make it awkward for you to bring charges against
me
, wouldn't it?'  Harmon took the man's continuing silence as agreement.  'So perhaps you should explain what this is all about?'

Eagle laced his fingers together and smiled.  'Interesting reasoning, Doctor.  Suppose I grant that our organization could allow certain murders to go unpunished; that your young killer would be an asset.  But frankly, I don't see that I need
you
; and from what I've seen, your ward will be better off without you, too.'

He leaned back in his chair, and watched Harmon's cortisol levels skyrocket.  Wirelessly, he connected to Garland, who waited – impatient and furious, no doubt – in an adjacent room. 
«Garland: bring the girl in.  Thank you.
»

Behind Harmon, a door slid open.  Half-turning in his chair, he heard a man's short curse, then running footsteps crossing the room.

'Keepie!'  The impact almost knocked him from the chair.  'You're really alive!'

Eagle ignored her.  'Garland.  Put the gun away.  I have the situation under control.  Please wait outside a little longer.'

No one spoke as the heavy tread crossed the room, and the door slid open and shut once more.

'Take the seat beside your uncle, Sara.'

'Who are
you?'

'You may call me Eagle.'

She sat down, turning to her uncle.  Eagle noted Harmon's eyes dart down to the girl's unfettered legs, then nod fractionally to her.  He suppressed a sigh. 
Amateurs
, he thought.

Clearing his throat, he interrupted their silent communication. 
These two would not appreciate subtlety.  '
Have neither of you noticed the concealed laser cannons?'

A momentary silence.

Eagle inclined his head toward the vase of flowers on his desk.  The briefest distortion in the air, the smell of ozone, and the flowers sizzled and collapsed into black ash that drifted down onto the desk.

The silence stretched out.

After a moment's tension, the two sank back into their chairs.  Inwardly Eagle smiled.  If any of his “guests” over the years had realized that the enormously powerful laser was trained on that one spot only and
could not
be moved… then his error in judgment would indicate he was no longer fit for his position.

'I have some questions I wish to ask.  Please do not attempt to lie or evade the truth – I have an impressive array of sensors at my disposal here, so I will know.'

For Harmon, bound and constrained, the problem requiring solution was – who were these people?  Presumably government, if “Eagle” could order the detective around.  Garland did not seem the type to be involved in anything more criminal than a drinking binge.  He wished he could flip his senses to the Imaginal, but the damned eyepiece made that impossible.

'Let's start with some easy questions…'

To calibrate your equipment,
Harmon thought.

'Your name,' Eagle said, looking at Leeth, 'is Sara, yes?'

'No,' she said, lifting her chin defiantly.

Eagle glanced down casually at his desk.  Frowned slightly.  'Your proper name is Sara.'

'No.'

Eagle's words became slightly clipped.  'Your given name is Sara.'

'No.'  She shook her head.  'It's Leeth,' she said proudly.

Eagle looked down again, then regarded Harmon with a faintly accusing air.

Harmon shrugged.  'If you have finished calibrating your instruments, perhaps we could proceed to the real questions.  Why do you expect our co-operation?'

Eagle was surprised but pleased that Sara had been able to beat the equipment by lying about her own name – however she'd done it.  That would be very useful, indeed.  Perhaps this would work out as well as he'd hoped.

He shrugged.  'If you prefer, I can have Detective Garland come back in and do as he has recommended?  That will mean drug and abuse charges for you, Doctor, and of course the end of your career.  For Sara, two charges of murder.  Initially.  By that I mean, two
in addition
to the two police your ward killed earlier this evening.'

Harmon blanched.  The girl, Eagle noted, smiled.  He turned to her.  'The two men are, of course, fully recovered.'

Leeth looked surprised, then angry.  She glared at him.  'If there hadn't been six of-'

'Leeth!'  Harmon interrupted, his visored face swinging to the girl.

Ahh
, Eagle thought.  That was better!  So.  It seemed his long, long patience was going to pay off.  'You feel no remorse at the killings?'

For a moment she looked angry, but that gave way to what looked like genuine puzzlement.

'Huh?'

'Guilt for the murders.  For taking human lives.'

Leeth looked at Eagle blankly.  'How
else
can you kill people?'

Eagle snorted.  Looked back to Harmon.  'Well, Doctor.  That
does
tell me a few things, doesn't it?'  It looked as though, at last, wet operations could recommence for the “Accounts Department.”

Eagle studied the girl.  A
truly
conscienceless killer who was otherwise normal?  Or merely a sociopath?  If the latter, her applications would be more limited.

'What do you feel when you kill, Leeth?'

Leeth looked at him, slowly deciding he was genuinely interested.  As she thought about it, a smile came to her face.  'Proud, I guess.'

Proud
, Eagle mused.

'I'm a Hunter,' she volunteered.

'Ahh.'  He thought for a moment.  'Tell me, Leeth – how would you like to work for the government?  Spying and such.  How would you like me to make you a true Hunter of Men?'  He wondered if either of the two – children of the modern age – knew whom he paraphrased.  Probably not.

She thought about it briefly, then grinned.  She looked at Harmon.

'I'm asking
you
Leeth.'  Her head snapped back to him.  'What do
you
think?'

'I think that'd be
great
!'

Eagle allowed himself a smile.  'So do I, Leeth, so do I.'

They smiled at each other. 
She really
is
quite charming
, he found himself thinking.  Then he blinked.  For a second, the momentary lapse of concentration rankled, but then it gave him pause.  He noted the way she leaned forward a little, the unconscious invitation in her body language. 
Well, well, well
.  Perhaps useful for other operations, too.

'One more thing, Leeth: what do you remember of your earlier life, before the Institute?'

She looked at him blankly.  'I was always at the Institute.'

Eagle looked at Harmon. 
How very convenient
, he thought. 
For us both
.

'I see.  Well, I think that's all, for now.  No doubt you would like to say farewell to your uncle?'

Her face froze, and she moved behind him, putting her still-cuffed hands on his shoulder, and shook her head.  'Nuh-uh.  I'm not gonna work for you unless you take Keepie, too.  I need him.'

Eagle stared at the girl, but her amber-flecked eyes stared straight back into his, refusing to give an inch.  Eagle concealed his smile.  'Very well.'

He turned back to Harmon.  'Have you heard of the Bureau of Internal Development?'

'Ye-es.  You're part of the FBI.'

Eagle allowed himself a small smile.  'That is indeed the impression we try to give the public: a small, innocuous part of a well-known larger agency.  In fact the Bureau is an intelligence service, charged with nothing less than returning America to its position as the world's pre-eminent superpower.'

Harmon blinked.  'Challenging.'

'Quite. And as low profile as the Bureau itself is, you will both be considerably lower profile.  You will be inducted into a boutique agency concealed within the body of the Bureau itself – the Accounts Department.'

'
Accounts?
'  Harmon glanced at Leeth, but she merely looked intrigued.  She clearly had no idea what an accountant did.

'Yes.  While the general public is barely aware of the Bureau's existence, the same cannot be said of our international partners.  Bluntly, the so-called Accounts Department undertakes surgically-precise dirty work.  Entirely self-funded.  No money trail to be uncovered by difficult questions from senate appropriations commissions.  Its true purpose is not known even to the rest of the Bureau.  Sara – perhaps I should say, Leeth – will be a definite asset, given her proclivities.  The two of you will be given quarters here at the Department, in New Francisco.  From now on, you will refer to your girl always as “Leeth,” and she must always refer to you only as “Doctor.”  I am “Eagle.”  Consider yourselves probationary agents of the United States government.'