"It's rotten to the core."
"Could someone be bought out of prison?"
"It's an intriguing concept. We don't think it's ever been tried. People with money usually don't go to jail in the first place. Normally, we just split up whatever little is left when the Feds grab someone. Does it owe a favor to this Ranwan Lima person?"
"Not exactly. Our employer wishes to speak with it—that's all."
"Its employer is going to a great deal of trouble."
"Tell us—your prison system. Does it use genetic ID to classify the inmates?"
"Genetic ID? Not on the run-of-the-mill inmate. That's expensive. Our prison system is very basic—the records are all manual. We know the feds can do it, but it's not routine."
"Would it be done for an infolink violation?"
"We don't know, boys. Probably not—unless there was some other reason, unless it was suspected of serious interstellar crimes, maybe. We'd help it if we could, boys, but we really don't know the answer to that one."
I glanced over to Dragon. "Outside," I said. He nodded.
"Take five, Biergart. We'll be back."
"Anything else it wants, just ask. Anything, boys! It's got it."
###
The view from the patio was magnificent. We looked out over a great, green wilderness. Misty grey clouds sliced through forested hills—the sky was grey and a wet, cool breeze washed gently over us.
"It's a shame about the Originals," Priestess said. "Did you read the history of Katag? They were a wonderful people, living in perfect balance with the forces of nature. Then the Outworlders came. Now the Originals are all drug addicts—and criminals. A dying race. It's a shame." We were leaning against the stone wall that ran the length of the patio.
"It's the System," Dragon said, "that does it. They encourage crime to ensure the population is at each other's throats. That way, nobody thinks."
"How's the driver?" I asked Priestess.
"He's secured," she responded. "What did you find out?"
We told her. Then we discussed it, standing in the teeth of a rising breeze under that cool grey sky. It looked like it might rain. The air was too thin, I decided—not enough oxygen.
"So they may not have done the genetic ID."
"Or they may have—we don't know."
"It's possible the governor doesn't know who he has."
"It's also possible he does."
"Maybe he doesn't care—money can buy forgiveness."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"So we go to the prison."
"March right in!"
"All or nothing!"
"Money talks!"
"He might be just waiting for us."
"If we offer enough, the word might never get back to him."
"It's natural for the lowest-ranking person who has the power to release her to take the money and do it."
"Auto-payment to be made upon the successful arrival of all four of us through Customs at any Systie world."
"It's the usual arrangement, according to Tara."
The wind was rising—it was getting cold. "All right, we do it," I said.
"We've got to do Biergart and his driver first," Dragon said.
"I've been thinking about that," I said.
"There's nothing to think about," Dragon countered.
"There's no need to kill them," I said. Dragon looked out at the view, silent.
"We've got that displacement monitor," I insisted, "and we've got contac. We can leave the two of them together in the basement. If they shift position too much, it goes off. We explain it to them—they won't move!"
Dragon said nothing. Neither did Priestess.
"It'll work!" I said. "There's no need to kill them. He's just a nobody—he's scared stiff. He won't give us any trouble."
"He'll turn us in first chance he gets," Dragon said.
"He won't get a chance! He'll be secure in the basement, staring at the displacement monitor."
"It won't work, Thinker," Dragon said flatly. "We don't know if we're under surveillance or not. They could be all over this place the moment we leave. We can't leave them here."
I was starting to sweat, even in that chill breeze. "Look, he's just a sub. He's not important. He's got a family. And the driver is just a spectator. It's not his fault he works for Biergart. We can't just murder them!"
Nobody said anything. It started to rain—a fine mist.
"You want me to do it?" Dragon asked.
"Priestess, what do you think?" I asked. She was my last hope. Surely Priestess would not countenance the cold, brutal murder of two innocents.
Priestess turned her perfect face to mine. It was devoid of emotion. "Our first duty is to our mission, and to ourselves. Your proposal would put us all at risk. You're a soldier of the Legion, Thinker. And it's your op. We'll do as you say. I know you'll do your duty." And she turned away, facing the rain.
I could hardly believe it.
###
"Our wallet, boys. It's on the table." Biergart was sweating again. He knew something was up. Dragon and I paused before him. We had earlier dumped his effects on the table, but had not even looked at the wallet.
"We don't want your wallet," I said.
"Just open it, will it?" He was very subdued.
I flipped it open. There was a holo of his family—Biergart, plump and content; a chubby, smiling wife with reddish hair. Two impish children, bright eyes and ruddy gold hair. I closed it quickly.
"They'll miss us, boys. It's not going to kill us, is it?" Sweat, dripping off his nose.
"Relax, Biergart. We're just going to change rooms." I stepped behind him and touched his bonds with my left hand. My right brought the vac gun up to the back of his head. I fired. The echo did not want to end—it seemed to go on forever, bouncing harshly off the walls. We had loaded the vac gun with cenite darts.
Dragon did the driver. He did everything else—I was out of it. I had done my duty, and I never wanted to do it again. I decided that if we got out of this one alive, I was finished with Tara—we had paid our debt, already.
Chapter 16:
The Mask
The Warden will see Cit now." The guard was a bodybuilder, dressed in a dark brown uniform. He had a vac gun at his waist. We were in a small reception room just outside the warden's office. Right in the heart of the beast. I was not at all happy with the sit, but we had no choice. The door hissed open. I was high on mags and totally unarmed. I knew there was a good chance we might never leave.
Priestess and I followed the bodybuilder into the Warden's office. Dragon waited outside—there were several other heavies to keep him company. A man rose from behind an extra-large desk of wood and marble. There was something strange about him—a fleshmask, I suddenly realized. He was wearing a fleshmask. An attractive girl with straight dark hair stood by with a notecard and a lightpen. Several chairs faced the desk.
"Welcome, Lady Arbell," the man said. "We are Cit Japrad Marsh, Director of Reform and Warden of Tombara Reformary. We are pleased to greet such a distinguished visitor, and we will do what we can to assist Cit. Our secretary will take notes of our conversation, just for our records. Please be seated."
"Our thanks, Excellency," Priestess replied as we found our seats. She was as cold as ice. I was impressed, because my heart was thumping. "We appreciate Cit's taking the time to see us. Our secretary is also here for the record, but in view of the subject to be raised, we ask that formal notes not be taken. It is a delicate matter." She passed the warden her business card.
The warden nodded to his secretary and she closed her notecard. "Very well. How can we assist Lady?"
"We represent a multi-system investment conglomerate—Regulus Octo. We were recently cheated—rather badly—by a professional scam artist with some very good credentials and a fast escape route. This happens occasionally, even when one's security is excellent, and normally in such a situation, we are prepared to quietly accept our losses and learn from our mistakes. In this case, however, the crime was heavily publicized. It therefore became important that we track down the criminal, deal with it on our own, and ensure that its fate is also heavily publicized, to deter others who might have similar ideas."