"Or else take him with you in the morning. Seriously. They'll be trying to keep you alive anyway, and if they realize who they've got they'll be doubly anxious to do so. It'll make your odds that much better."
"True. Means they'll be using those Paralyte-IX darts. Have we got a supply of the antidote?"
"Yes—and Vale's already prepared the hypos you're going to ask for next."
Lathe grinned. "I wonder sometimes why I bother to give orders.... All right, I'll think about taking Caine in tomorrow. But don't mention that to him or anyone else yet."
"Right." Skyler pushed back his chair. "I'd better start organizing my equipment."
He walked over to Novak, conferred for a few seconds, and then went to the corner where the blackcollar's equipment was piled. Lathe watched him thoughtfully, noting the bounce in the big man's step and the sure, quick movements of his hands. Skyler was happy—happier, in fact, than Lathe had seen him since the end of the war.
Smiling to himself, the comsquare glanced at Caine's still-angry back. Yes, it was worth it. For a long time the blackcollars had been dying in degrees from the inside out as their hope of doing something meaningful faded with the years. But no matter what happened now, they would at least have had the chance to live as blackcollars again, the chance for one last shot at the collies and their Ryqril overlords. And if the price was death on a foreign world... well, they'd been prepared for that forty years ago, on Plinry. It wouldn't be harder now.
The thought of death brought a new frown to Lathe's face, and his eyes defocused to stare past Caine at the cloudless sky.
Where was Jensen, anyway?
CHAPTER 16
The Radix garage was located at the end of another of the long underground tunnels Caine had come to expect of the Argentian resistance. Sweating under three layers of flexarmor and local clothing, he walked through the narrow passageway between Lathe and Mordecai, wondering why the comsquare was allowing him to come along. It was what he'd wanted, of course, but after that business about how valuable he was, he hadn't expected Lathe to back down so easily.
The "garage"—a large abandoned store—was heavily boarded up, but after the gloom of the tunnel the bits of morning sunlight filtering in gave adequate light for them to thread their way through the parked vehicles to the exit doors where their own waited. Three figures also waited there: Fuess, Tremayne, and Bakshi.
"Good morning, Tremayne; Comsquare," Lathe said as they approached. "I wasn't expecting to see you two here."
"Morning," Tremayne nodded. "We wanted to make sure you had the latest information on quizler movements."
"I picked it up from Mrs. Quinlan's people on the way down," Mordecai told him. "Seems quiet out there."
"Yeah, well, take it easy anyway," Bakshi warned, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he shifted his gaze between Caine and the others. "Are all three of you going?"
"All four, if you count Fuess," Lathe said, looking at the latter. "Everything ready?"
The tall blond nodded. "All set, Comsquare."
"Okay, let's go." He nodded at Tremayne and Bakshi. "See you later."
The vehicle was a dented van similar to the one Caine had ridden in back on Plinry. This time, though, he was obliged to sit on the floor in the storage area as Fuess and Lathe took the driver's and passenger's seats. Mordecai, sitting down against the side opposite Caine, wedged himself between the wheel well and one of the vertical wraparound support struts. Caine tried that position on his own side, found it comfortable.
The doors opened and the van lurched out into the street. Three turns later, they entered the mainstream of Calarand traffic.
It didn't take much longer for Caine to become completely lost. Seated as low as he was, he could see virtually nothing through either the front windshield or the van's small rear windows, and his efforts to correlate the van's turns with the maps he'd memorized proved useless. The quiet conversation between Fuess and Lathe was less than useful, too. "That's the Security Headquarters—that white building with the dish antennas all over the roof."
"For just Calarand or all of Argent?"
"For everything." Long pause; one turn. "This is Victory Avenue—renamed after the war, of course. It runs through one of the western entrances into the Strip and then into the government center. We'll have to get off before then—we haven't yet figured out how to make passable quizler IDs."
"We'll be getting off even earlier," Lathe said. "I don't want to go into the Strip this trip. Just parallel it and drive past the prison."
Fuess sent a brief glance sideways. "You won't see much that way."
"True, but we won't be scanned, either."
"You're armed?" The Argentian sounded irritated. "I told you you can't take weapons into the Strip."
"That's why we're not going there," Lathe said patiently.
"Forgot to tell me, huh? Like you forgot to mention Caine would be coming along?"
"What are you getting all hot about? You're just here to assist, remember?"
"Sorry," Fuess muttered, barely audible over the hum of the van's wheels. He looked at Lathe, and Caine caught a glimpse of a wry smile. "I guess I'm used to being in charge of these missions."
Lathe dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. "Is that the Strip wall ahead?" he asked.
"Yes. We'll have to swing parallel to it for a ways to get to Henslowe."
"Turn down the next street—we'll keep our distance for a while," Lathe ordered. "There's a gate in the wall just this side of the prison, isn't there?"
"Yes—Avis Street runs through it, crossing Parlertin just outside the wall. I could give you a look at the gate from Avis, then turn down Parlertin and drive past Henslowe."
"Good. Do it."
Caine pushed himself into a kneeling position and got a glimpse of the wall as Fuess made his turn. It was a dirty-white slab rising three or four meters above street level and topped by a meter of metal-mesh fence. The gate was like the ones in Capstone's wall, but with what looked like two pedestrian turnstiles flanking it. Four guards were visible; there may have been others out of sight. Settling back to the floor, Caine wondered how Lathe was going to handle this one without the stacked deck the blackcollars had given themselves with the Capstone wall.
The van continued on. Still unable to see anything worthwhile, Caine drifted into his own thoughts—and was jolted out of them as Fuess abruptly made a sharp right-hand turn. Looking up, Caine saw that Lathe was staring back through the rear windows, his expression tight.
"Is he following?" Fuess asked.
"Not yet," Lathe replied, still looking back.
"Who?" Caine asked, stretching to try to see.
"Keep your head down," Lathe ordered. "I think we've picked up a tail." He turned back to face front, pointed ahead. "Fuess, turn left there and get us back to the wall."
"You think that's wise?" Mordecai asked.
Lathe shrugged without turning. "If it's a collie trap, we're already inside it. Might as well keep going and watch for a place to punch our way out."
A cold knot settled into Caine's stomach. He'd expected Security to move against them eventually, but had assumed the attack would be aimed at Radix HQ. Lathe's suggestion that Faye Picciano might be a spy flashed through his mind. She'd known the blackcollars would be making this trip today.
"Hell!" Fuess snarled and hit the brakes. Caine grabbed for the support strut and hung on as the van made a hard right and accelerated, sending him sliding along the floor. Scrambling back, he had barely gotten himself wedged in again when Fuess braked once more. With a prolonged screech of tires, the van came to a stop.