Shaking her head she continued slowly backing away. He considered rushing her and knocking her down. She was a lot smaller than he was. But he had no idea if she was hiding something lethal under her clothing or somewhere within that slight frame.
“I will shoot,” he warned her again.
She gave a slight shrug. “Then that truly will conclude my sacrifice, Sergeant. Go ahead then, and shoot.” With that she whirled and broke into a run.
She’d gone two steps before, startled, she ran straight into Rosenthal’s right fist. So intent had she been on her conversation with Lopé that she hadn’t seen the private circle around behind her.
Lopé jogged over to join them. Standing over her and looking down, he holstered his pistol, then nodded approvingly to Rosenthal.
“You’re quick.”
“I hope I’m always quick enough.” Reaching into a back pocket she removed one of a pair of standard-issue security restraints, knelt, and began securing the unconscious woman’s wrists. As she worked, she nodded once in the direction of the tree that continued to shield the Earthsaver’s prophet and his captor. “Where’d pretty boy come from, anyway?”
“Tokyo, he said.” The sergeant spoke brusquely as he turned to regard the same tree.
“How did he end up here?” Having secured her prisoner, Rosenthal began to check for booby traps. As the woman beneath her began to come to, moaning, Rosenthal showed admirable expertise. “Did you know about him?”
Lopé shook his head, his reply a conflicting mix of irritation and admiration.
“His presence here fits with some of the stories I’ve heard of how the old man likes to work. It’s just like Yutani to send out somebody to operate on their own to work the margins of an operation like this.”
Satisfied with her work, Rosenthal rose. “So Yutani doesn’t trust his people out in the field? Doesn’t trust us?”
“I don’t think it’s that. More like covering your bets.” He looked down at the now securely bound captive. “Ngata must’ve been poking around outside the perimeter Bevridge established. If he hadn’t, this woman and her ‘prophet’ might have successfully galloped away alongside the real animals.” He turned again toward the protective oak. “We should thank him. Or congratulate him, anyway.”
“Any congratulating better be mutual,” Rosenthal said. “If we hadn’t come along, he likely wouldn’t have made it away. He couldn’t keep dragging that ‘prophet’ all the way back to the entrance road. Not with the mesyn pursuing him. And if he’d tried to pull a comm unit to call for backup, Mr. Prophet would’ve been able to break free. That would’ve taken away his shield.”
Lopé looked thoughtful. “Speaking of backup…”
XXV
Bevridge was more than a little relieved to hear from the sergeant. Leaving his team to complete a search of the farm buildings, he had his driver track the signal from Lopé’s comm unit. Going off-road, they soon arrived at where the sergeant’s vehicle was parked. Its driver pointed into the dense stand of old trees directly ahead.
While Rosenthal secured the prophet Duncan Fields, Lopé introduced Bevridge to the unexpected backup from Tokyo. As the two men exchanged professional courtesies, the amused sergeant noted that Bevridge was trying hard to appear thankful for Ngata’s intervention, when in reality he was more than a little upset at having his authority undercut.
Not that it would matter, he knew, given the results of the operation. The Earthsavers’ organization had been effectively smashed. Its prophet and supervising council had been taken into custody. Though there were probably an unknown number of lower-level operatives still out there, with no one remaining to give them orders or direction, they were likely to fade into obscurity.
A truck full of armed security personnel arrived to pick up the two new prisoners. Part of Lopé wished he could be present to see the faces of the other Earthsavers when their prophet rejoined them. Their diversion had failed to draw attention away from the escape attempt. They had been outnumbered and outgunned, and their “mission” was at an end.
Bevridge spoke to someone on his comm unit, probably informing his superiors that the operation had achieved its goals and without a single fatality. Rosenthal escorted the now-bound prophet over to the newly arrived truck. That left the Japanese operative standing by himself.
Lopé sauntered over. Seeing the sergeant approaching, Ngata bowed slightly. When he straightened, he was smiling.
“My thanks to you and your partner, Sergeant. While I would have managed something on my own, your arrival was both timely and welcome.”
Nodding, Lopé offered a crisp reply. “Maybe. Or you would’ve lost control of your prisoner, and been drilled by a fanatic.”
Ngata’s smile tightened but did not disappear.
“Those were also possibilities.”
“You didn’t get here in a late-model dark blue four-seater, by any chance? With dark bronze trim?”
Ngata looked surprised. “How did you know that?”
Lopé grunted. “I’ve got an eye for cars. One thing has me wondering, though.” Lopé gestured westward, in the direction taken by the long-vanished mob of real horses. “You were wandering around out here, away from the action, doing your own reconnaissance. Suddenly a herd of horses comes stampeding toward you and jumps the rock wall surrounding the property. Instead of taking shelter behind a tree and getting out of their way, you pick out the two fakes, the two mesyns, out of a herd of maybe two dozen, and you do it in a matter of seconds.” He stared intently at the youthful operative. “How’d you know to do that?” One hand gestured into the woods. “How did you know to single those two out? Not to mention to bring one down and open it up?”
Ngata’s grin grew wider. “Not being involved in the actual assault gave me ample time to monitor communications. Theirs, as well as yours.”
The sergeant was not pleased. “So you knew when these two were making a break for it…” Ngata nodded once. “But you didn’t think to inform anybody else.” He frowned darkly as he awaited the answer.
“There was no time.” The younger man just shrugged. “I had to get here to intercept them, in order to ensure they did not escape.”
“In your judgment.” Lopé’s stare was unblinking.
“In my judgment, yes.”
“What if they’d escaped anyway, or killed you in the process?”
“Then I would have been guilty of poor decision-making,” Ngata replied calmly. “At first I did exactly what you describe, Sergeant. Seeing the herd coming toward me, I took shelter behind a tree to watch them pass. As they drew near I quickly noticed that two of them running side-by-side were moving with a gait that was not normal. One that no normal horse would employ. It was not just unusual—it was dynamically and biologically impossible.” He shrugged. “Had I been wrong and shot down a real horse, I would have felt terrible. I love horses.”
Lopé nodded sagely. “So that’s what tipped you off. An unnatural gait.” When Ngata nodded affirmatively, the sergeant added, “I wouldn’t expect such a love of horses from a solo Weyland-Yutani security operative.”
Ngata explained. “In my childhood, I was exposed to the exploits of a national hero, Hiroshi Hoketsu. He was twice the oldest person to compete in the old international Olympics, and the oldest competitor ever for Japan.”
A look of understanding came over Lopé’s face. “Let me guess. Equestrian competition.”
Ngata nodded. “I wanted to be like him, but horses are expensive to maintain. More so than guns. I have maintained an affection for both, and follow developments in both.” Turning, he gestured into the woods. “I knew immediately that two of the creatures running could not be actual horses. So I took a gamble, and shot one.”