"I agree." Bernhard's eyes searched Kanai's face. "But his allies may not be quite as tough or slippery. Where is she?"
"Who? The Shandygaff woman?" Kanai's lip twisted in contempt. "So you're giving up already on the bull and instead going after the calf?"
"If what she did in the bar is any indication, she hardly qualifies as a calf," Bernhard replied dryly.
"Would you rather some friend of the late Mr. Nash finds her?—and he had a lot of very nasty friends."
"They don't even know where to look."
"You know better than that. Eventually someone will get to her. And... well, I've seen some of the ritual executions that've been done in this town. I guarantee you don't want her to go that way."
No, Kanai didn't, and once more he found himself in a no-win situation. Honor—what did honor demand here?
But for once he couldn't even rationalize an answer to that question. Perhaps because honor had no meaning to a man who'd betrayed himself and others so often.
And was about to do so again. "She's alone in a house about a mile north of the Shandygaff," he said, giving up. "Some place Lathe set up." He supplied the address. "I suppose you'll immediately turn her over to Quinn?"
"I don't know. I'll try to get permission for us to question her ourselves first."
"But if you don't learn anything, you'll let him have her. Sure—I understand."
"Kanai—"
Silently, Kanai turned his back and walked out, suddenly feeling the need for solitude. Solitude, and cleaner air.
Chapter 23
They took her at dawn the next morning—Bernhard and two of his men, entering the house with a silence and speed that had her before she could get to her gun. Hawking, watching from a safe place, was too far away to go her aid and therefore didn't even try, which probably saved his life minutes later when the Security forces appeared to take her from the blackcollars.
"Damn them," Caine snarled, squeezing one of Reger's expensive handmade mugs viciously with both hands. "We shouldn't have let her stay there alone. Dammit, Lathe, why didn't you let us bring her back here, anyway?"
"Because we didn't know if we could trust her," was the comsquare's even reply. Caine glared at him—how could he take this so damned calmly? He opened his mouth to speak, but Pittman beat him to it.
"Didn't her actions at the Shandygaff prove anything?" the other youth demanded. "She risked her life to save yours."
"Not really—we could have taken Nash ourselves." Lathe shrugged slightly. "And you ought to know by now how easily something like that can be staged."
"Maybe this part's been staged, too," Alamzad suggested. "Or is that ridiculous?" he added as Pittman sent him an astonished look.
"Not out of the question, actually," Lathe said. "But I don't see this Security office as being that subtle. No, I think it was the real thing."
"So Bernhard and Kanai have gone over the line," Skyler said, almost as to himself. "You were right about Bernhard, Lathe—just a bit premature. I suppose the next question is what we do about it. If anything."
"Can't we go into Athena and get her out?" Colvin asked. "I mean, she has now pretty well proved herself, hasn't she?"
"Only in a negative way," Hawking said dryly.
"Besides, we're not in the rescuing business this time around," Caine told Colvin, throwing a baleful glare at Lathe. "Our mission's apparently the only important thing on the list, and there's nothing in the schedule for caring about Anne or anyone else."
Lathe cleared his throat as Colvin started to protest. "Actually, I think that we're going to have to make an exception on this one," the comsquare said.
Caine stared at him, unable to believe the other's reversal... and a nasty suspicion began to grow within him. "Oh—I see now," he said bitterly. "When it's people whose deaths are going to be on my conscience, it's one of those things I have to learn to live with. When it's someone on your conscience, we do something about it. Is that it?"
Lathe returned his gaze evenly... and only then did Caine notice the tightness around the comsquare's eyes. "It's nothing like that," the other grated, "and if you'll turn your glands down for a minute so you can think straight you'll understand that the cases are entirely different. The truckers aren't connected with anything subversive—us or Torch or anyone else. A simple, nondamaging interrogation will establish that, and they'll be released forthwith. Anne Silcox is something else entirely, and whatever she knows about Torch will eventually be drawn out—and it's not likely to be easy on her."
"Though it doesn't sound like Security will get a hell of a lot from her," Hawking put in. "And what little she knows is five years out of date, besides."
"True," Lathe said. "But we can't take the chance some of it might still be useful." He looked at Caine. "Do you follow the argument? I don't want you thinking there's anything personal about this."
Caine consciously unclenched his jaw. "I suppose so," he said grudgingly. "So... how do we go about it?"
"I've got some ideas," the comsquare said, sweeping his gaze around the room at all of them.
"Jensen, find Reger and get a couple of vans from him. You, Colvin, and Alamzad will get to work reinforcing the bodywork and frame, particularly the front. Hawking, did you get that supply of paraldart antidote Reger promised us?"
Hawking nodded. "He delivered both that and the darts themselves yesterday evening. The bellybomb will take a few more hours to put together, but I can probably have it ready by noon. The limpet mines and special nunchaku are already finished."
Lathe nodded. "Good. That'll be your project for the day, then."
"Belly-bomb?" Caine frowned. "What's a belly-bomb? And what were you rigging up mines and special weapons for?"
"I'll tell you later," the comsquare said briefly. "Mordecai, you'll take Caine and Braune into Denver to pick up some high-temp ablation paste to coat the vans with—Reger can tell you which businesses in town may have some stashed away. Skyler and I will meanwhile work out the details and contingencies. Pittman, you'll assist us in that."
"Me?" Pittman asked, sounding startled. "I mean—why me?"
"Because you're the one who's left," Lathe said reasonably. "Besides which, you'll be driving one of the vans and I'll need to know exactly what you can and cannot do with one of the things."
Pittman seemed to straighten in his seat. "I can do anything the van itself can take," he said with a touch of pride.
"Good." Lathe glanced around the room. "Let's get busy. I don't know if Torch gave its members any psychor training, but I doubt Anne can hold out for too many hours. If we're going to spring her, it has to be tonight."
—
The detention cells and interrogation rooms took up most of the Security building's fifth floor, only a single row of offices along the northern end not devoted directly to that purpose. Galway took the elevator up from the fourth floor—the only way in or out of the level—and headed down the hallway, an odd shiver running up his back. This was possibly the most secure place in Athena, but he couldn't help recalling that the interrogation rooms in Millaire on Argent had been along a hallway very similar to this one.
And he'd nearly died while sitting in one of those rooms.
Two of the interrogation cells near the end of the hallway showed the glowlights that signaled occupation, but only one had guards posted outside. Reasonable enough—most everyone else had agreed hours ago that the two trucker women were totally harmless. The sole reason anyone was still questioning them was that Quinn had ordered it done. Galway grimaced in mild disgust, but at the moment he had far more urgent things on his mind than Quinn's treatment of innocent civilians.