The Icarus Hunt Part 40

Somehow, though, the controllers were able to see through to a better and more enlightened reasoning."

"We do owe him that," I agreed. "But when I said you'd underestimated him, Tera, I was referring to something else entirely. Mr. Ryland would never think of killing us here. Not when he can make a little extra money by turning us over to the Patth."

Tera stared at me, her mouth dropping open. "Are you saying-?" She looked back at Brother John. "You are a slime."

"I'd warn your lady friend to be quiet, Jordan," Brother John said, a mid-November chill in his voice. "Particularly since the value of your lives hasdecreased markedly in the past three minutes."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nicabar asked calmly. The thugs had relieved Tera of her pepperbox shotgun pistol; and now it was Nicabar's and my turn.

"He means he wasn't planning to sell us to the Patth just to pick up a little spare change," I explained, wincing as the searching hands ran afoul of my a.s.sortment of sore muscles and joints. "It was mainly to buy him more time to get the Icarus out of here and bury it somewhere. Since none of us would know what had happened to the s.h.i.+p, the Patth could interrogate us until June without learning anything that would do them any good."

"Nice guys," Shawn muttered, shying back as one of the thugs sent him a warning look.

"You know, Jordan, I do believe I've been guilty of underestimating you,"

Brother John said as one of the searchers found Nicabar's Kochran-Uzi and tucked it away. "No, no, don't sit," he added as they started to push the two of us back into our seats. "You and your alien partner are coming with me. You realize you never told me he was an alien?"

"Yes, I know," I said. "Which was why Everett was able to mistake Jones for my partner in the first place. You hadn't told him Ixil was an alien because at the time you didn't know it yourself."

"I hate aliens," Brother John said conversationally. "Almost as much as I hate alien-lovers. Everett, you might as well come with us, too. The rest of you will stay here while we decide what to do with you."

"You might want the girl, too, Mr. Ryland," Everett said, gesturing toward Tera as he got to his feet. "McKell says she's Arno Cameron's daughter."

"Really," Brother John said, and for the first time since he'd come in I saw a flicker of genuine surprise cross his face. "By all means, bring her along.

After all, McKell might need extra persuasion."

"Persuasion?" Nicabar asked as the nearest thug hauled Tera back to her feet.

"Yes," Brother John said, his voice suddenly dark. "It seems our too-too- clever alien-lover did something to the Icarus's control systems. Our people can't get anything to work."

"I didn't want you leaving without having a chance for this little chat," I said mildly, looking over at Everett. "Everett, tell the truth. You put up a good show here; but you really did kill Jones, didn't you?"

He snorted. "So for all that bl.u.s.ter you really didn't know for sure, huh?" he sneered. "Of course I killed him. What, you think Chort did it?"

"Just wanted to make sure," I murmured.

"Glad we could clear that up," Brother John said. "Dar, Kinrick; you stay here.

The rest of you, come with me."

The walk back to the Icarus seemed a lot longer this time. Brother John took the lead, with Everett and one of his men at his sides. Behind them, Ixil, Tera, and I were herded along by the other three, who made sure to keep us a respectful five paces behind the others in case one of us suddenly felt the urge to commitsuicide by trying to jump them.

It was darker outside now. Darker and colder, and the light breeze that had been rustling the leaves earlier had picked up into something stiff and unpleasant.

Which were, not coincidentally, words that also described Tera as she stalked along in bitter silence beside me, undoubtedly heaping full blame for the situation squarely on my head. To be fair, it was hardly a point of view I could disagree with.

But at the moment I didn't really care about the cold or the footing or Tera's anger or even the gun digging into my left kidney. My entire attention was on the dice I could visualize rolling across a mental table in front of my eyes.

The dice had been thrown, the gamble had been made; and in a handful of minutes I would find out whether I'd won or lost.

There was a shadowy figure waiting in the open hatchway as we reached the Icarus and started up the ladder. Brother John went first, followed by his bodyguard and Everett, then Tera, another guard, and Ixil. The other two guards saved me for last, then sandwiched me between them as the three of us went up the ladder.

Either Brother John considered me the most dangerous of the group, or else the fact that I had been the one to gimmick the s.h.i.+p ent.i.tled me to special handling.

Brother John had gone on ahead, but Tera and Ixil were still waiting as I reached the wraparound, together with their guards, the shadowy figure I'd seen waiting up there, and two more of his buddies. I'd thought the bodyguards Brother John had brought to the lodge were big, ugly, and well armed, but this latter group beat them hands down on all three counts. Silently, they gestured with their guns; just as silently, we walked along the wraparound to the main sphere.

The hatch to the sphere was closed. The leading thug opened it and stepped through, bobbling his balance somewhat as he pa.s.sed through the gravity change.

Tera and Ixil went next, negotiating the discontinuity with the grace of long practice. Holding my breath, I followed.

The sphere looked more or less the way I'd left it earlier that evening, except that the inner lights were blazing cheerfully away and that there were another eight strangers glowering at us. Four of them, stamped from the same mold as our current escort, were standing in a loose group near the bottom of the sphere; three others, working diligently at my helm and nav setup up the forward side of the hull, were apparently the pilot and engine specialists who were supposed to have had the Icarus well on its way by now.

But it was the eighth man who caught my full attention, the man waiting at the exact bottom of the sphere as if not trusting the alien gravity that pinned his tech people to the deck halfway up the side. He was a small man, at least compared to the four bodyguards grouped around him, well past middle age despite the signs of extensive rejuvenation therapy, wearing a dark and expensive suit and some muted and even more expensive jewelry. His face was old; his expressionwas impa.s.sive; and his eyes were as dead as a thousand-year-old corpse. He was a man I had never met, but I knew instantly who he was.

The rolling dice had come to a halt. And I'd won.

"You must be McKell," the man said as Brother John led us down the hull toward him, his voice as dead as his eyes.

"Yes," I acknowledged. "And you must be Mr. Antoniewicz. I'm very pleased to finally meet you."

"Are you," he said. Some people, or so the saying goes, can undress you with their eyes. Antoniewicz's look was more like stripping me straight down to the bone. "Interesting. Most of those who are brought to meet me are not at all looking forward to the experience. Many of them find themselves screaming, in fact, and don't seem able to stop."

I swallowed despite myself, all the stories and rumors of what happened to people brought before Antoniewicz flas.h.i.+ng through my mind. "I understand that, sir," I said humbly. "But if I may be so bold, I suspect none of those others were bringing the sort of gift I have to offer you."

The corners of his lips might have turned up, but it would have taken a micrometer to measure it. The smile, if that's what it was, made his eyes look even deader. "Really. I was under the impression that the Icarus was now mine by simple right of possession."

"I agree," I said, pa.s.sing over the fact that if I hadn't cooperatively flown the s.h.i.+p into his waiting arms it wouldn't have been in his possession.

Considering the size and number of his bodyguards, comments like that were quite easy for me to stifle. "I was actually speaking of something else entirely.

Or, rather, someone else entirely."

"Wait a minute," Everett growled, taking a step toward me. "You take credit for her and I'll cave your face in."

"Ryland?" Antoniewicz invited, gesturing at Tera.

"Everett claims she's the daughter of Arno Cameron," Brother John said. I could still hear the phony good humor in his voice, but it was curiously subdued.

Most everything good, I suspected, humor included, would darken or wilt in Antoniewicz's presence. "Cameron's the man who-"

"I know who he is," Antoniewicz said. "Tell me why Everett thinks he deserves credit for her."

"I'd like to take a moment to remind everyone that I'm not anyone's carnival prize," Tera cut in, glaring at each of us in turn but saving her most withering look for me. I couldn't really blame her on that count, either; if I hadn't revealed her ident.i.ty during my brilliant summing up of the case a few minutes ago, she'd be just one more anonymous prisoner back in the lodge.

I cleared my throat. "If I might explain-"

"Quiet," Antoniewicz said. He hadn't raised his voice, or changed his inflection, or even looked at me-the full force of his gaze was on Tera at the moment. And yet, my mouth clamped shut, almost of its own accord, my attempted mediation cut short as if guillotined. The sheer presence of the man, the power and evil lurking veiled beneath the surface, were almost physical qualities like his voice or face or expensive suit. For the first time, I truly understoodhow it was he'd been able to create such a huge and wide-ranging criminal empire.

Tera wasn't nearly as easily impressed as I was. "I don't know who exactly you are," she continued on into the silence, "but whatever it is you think I'm worth to you, you're sadly mistaken."

"No, I don't think so," Antoniewicz disagreed mildly. "Of all those who worked closely on this s.h.i.+p, only your father remains at large. You're the lever that will pry him out of hiding."

"If you think that, you're more of a fool than I thought," Tera scoffed, clearly not caring whether she offended him or not. Across our little circle I saw both Everett and Brother John wince, with Pix and Pax giving a little twitch as well.

One simply didn't talk that way to Mr. Antoniewicz. "My father is fully aware of what this s.h.i.+p is worth to humanity," Tera continued. "And he has never yet let personal considerations get in the way of what needs to be done. Whatever information he has about the Icarus, the last thing he'll do is give it away to someone like you. Certainly not under duress."

"Not even with his daughter's life at stake?" Antoniewicz asked, his voice politely incredulous.

"No," Tera said flatly, straightening to an almost-haughty posture as pride momentarily eclipsed every evidence of fear and uncertainty. I could imagine the true royalty of old facing the peasant mobs with the same courage and disdain.

And with the same results. "Pity," Antoniewicz said, sounding almost regretful.

"In that case, you're worth nothing to me at all." He looked at the man standing behind me to my right and lifted a languid hand.

And abruptly, the pressure of the gun muzzle on my back vanished as, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him bring the weapon around to point straight at Tera's face I don't know why I did it Antoniewicz was bluffing, and I knew he was bluffing. He would never kill a potential hostage whose usefulness hadn't yet been tested, not even one who'd verbally spit in his eye the way she had. I knew it was an act, and if I'd had another fraction of a second to think about it I'd have realized that I was playing directly into his hands.

But I'd promised Cameron that I would watch over his daughter, and the reflexes just kicked in on their own. With my right hand I slapped the thug's gun off target, then spun around on my right heel to drive my right elbow into his solar plexus as I grabbed for the weapon with my left hand.

It was about as close to a complete failure as anything I'd ever tried in my life My elbow struck an unyielding slab of body armor, my s.n.a.t.c.h for the gun missed completely as he twitched it aside out of my reach, and before I could regain my balance to try something else he'd taken a long pace backward and was looking at me with the sort of expression you might use for a particularlyinteresting new species of insect. About the only thing that kept it from being a complete failure was that I didn't fall flat on my face in the process.

I braced myself, waiting for the inevitable flurry of shots and the searing pain that would accompany them. But once again, my reflexive thought was out of step with reality. "Interesting," Antoniewicz said, his voice cutting calmly across the sudden tension. "You were right, Ryland. He is something of the heroic type, isn't he?"

"And seems to have soft feelings for Ms. Cameron, besides," Brother John agreed.

He was openly gloating now, I saw, though whether that was at my failure or his own cleverness I couldn't tell.

"The only feelings I have for her are ones you couldn't understand," I growled back with the ill temper of a man who's just completely humiliated himself.

"Loyalty, for one. Or any of the other sympathetic emotions human beings have for each other. Of course, in your case, I use the term 'human being' in its loosest possible sense. You're a lot less human than most of the aliens I know."

The gloating vanished from Brother John's face, the handsome face turning suddenly ugly. "Listen, McKell-"

"Enough," Antoniewicz cut him off, giving me the same interesting-insect look his bodyguard had. "Whatever the details of his character flaws, it's clear now that McKell would not wish harm to come to the lady." He lifted his eyebrows slightly. "That is clear, is it not?"

I looked at Tera. Some of that earlier defiance was still simmering in her eyes, but the face behind them had gone noticeably pale. The aura of death and evil surrounding Antoniewicz was starting to get to her. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, giving bluff and bl.u.s.ter one last try.

I might as well have saved myself the trouble. "Don't play stupid, McKell,"

Antoniewicz reproved me. "It doesn't suit you. Will you release the locks you put on the Icarus's systems? Or do my men take Ms. Cameron back to the engine room?"

The s.h.i.+p, I noticed dimly, suddenly felt very cold. "Let me offer an alternative deal," I said, my tongue feeling sluggish in my mouth. Antoniewicz was starting to get to me, too. "If you'll let Tera, Ixil, and me leave here unharmed, I'll ungimmick the s.h.i.+p and give you something that'll be far more valuable to you than all three of us put together."

"He's stalling," Brother John said contemptuously. "He hasn't got anything left to bargain with."

"On the contrary," I said. "I have Arno Cameron."

"You can tell us where he is?" Antoniewicz asked.

"I can do better than that," I said, trying hard to ignore the suddenly stricken look on Tera's face. "I can deliver him to you. Right now."

The atmosphere was suddenly electric. "What are you talking about?" Brother John demanded, looking around as if expecting Cameron to pop out of the alien hull.

"Where is he?""He's hiding in the smaller sphere," I said, settling for the simplest explanation. Giving them the complete story would only confuse the issue. "I can go in there and get him."

"Really," Antoniewicz said, his voice suddenly cold. "Do you think us fools, McKell? My people checked every cubic centimeter of this s.h.i.+p before I came aboard."

"Maybe everything out here and in the engine section, but not the small sphere,"

I said, shaking my head. "Not visually, anyway. That place is a mess of cables and wires-they'd have been hours at it. What did they use, body-heat sensors and motion detectors?"

"And a few other specialized devices," Antoniewicz said, eyeing me speculatively. "You realize, I trust, that Cameron dead is not a bargaining chip."

"He's not dead," I a.s.sured him. "There's an area in there that sensors can't reach. All that alien machinery, I suppose."

Antoniewicz glanced at Brother John, turned back to me. "All right," he said.

"Tell me where he is. I'll send one of my men in after him."

"It's very hard to find the place," I said. "Besides, if it's anyone but me, he'll probably put up a fight. That could damage something."

"Possibly even Cameron himself," Brother John murmured.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," Antoniewicz said in a tone that said there would be no further discussion on the matter. "Tell us where he is."

I sighed. "That's not necessary," I said reluctantly. "I told him that when it was safe to come out I'd either come personally or else send in one of Ixil's ferrets. There's an entrance in the engine room that should be open."

"Good," Antoniewicz said. He was all calm again now that he'd gotten his way.

"Send him."

I looked at Ixil and nodded. He nodded back, and Pix scampered down his leg and headed up toward the wraparound. "You'd better tell whoever you have in the wraparound and engine room not to stop him," I warned.

"There's no one back there," Antoniewicz said. "I presume Cameron will be coming out the same way?"

"No, he'll come out here," I said, pointing to the covered access hole beside Tera's computer. "There's a better access panel over there."

"Open it," Antoniewicz said, flicking his eyes to one of the bodyguards.

"While we wait, McKell, you can start fixing my s.h.i.+p."

"Yes, sir," I said. Furtively, with the feeling of someone about to rub salt into his own raw flesh, I looked over at Tera. Knowing that, however painful it was going to be, I had to see how she was taking this.

I was prepared for rage, for fear, for even borderline hysteria. But there was none of that in her face. Not anymore. Her face was instead totally drained of emotion, as dead as Antoniewicz's eyes, the face of someone facing the end of all things with the certain knowledge that there was nothing left to be redeemed from the ashes. The strong industrialist's daughter, the proud and defiant royal personage-all of that was gone. There was nothing left but fatigue, and a young woman facing the inevitability of her own death.

"I trusted you," she said quietly.I turned my eyes away. It hurt just exactly as bad as I'd expected it to. "I'm sorry," I said. "I did what I had to."

I estimated it would take about ten minutes for Pix to make it to the center of the sphere and trip the stargate mechanism. I took my time unlocking the seals I'd put on the Icarus's helm and nav systems, with the result that nine of those minutes were gone by the time I walked back down to where Antoniewicz and the others were still waiting. "They can get started now," I told Antoniewicz, nodding up at the techs. "I locked down the computer and engine controls, too, but I can't undo that until the helm and nav have been fired up and done their self-checks."