"If you are able to prove to me that the assignment should be yours, and then accomplish the job successfully, you will be paid 3.5 million C-bills worth of corporate stocks, including shares in TharHes Industries and Defiance Industries."
The equal of what I got for the Archon, and paid in defense stocks. Obviously, he wants to ignite a war."Impressive. You are ambitious."
"Frugal. I have been supporting Candace's brother in his posturing and threats against the Confederation for years. He has done nothing but grow fat on my charity. You are a stone with which I can kill two birds."
The assassin nodded. "How should I prove myself to you?"
Fuh Teng shrugged. "On Solaris a man is judged by his last battle."
The assassin shrugged. "That is too bad, because my last job had me working as a florist."
Fuh Teng nodded. "Candace does not like flowers." The old man stood up, exited the booth and bowed. "May your endeavor of the next four months prove fortuitous."
The assassin sipped tea calmly while he waited for the old man to leave the restaurant. He picked up the gold coin and ran his thumbnail over the characters incised into the edge. Candace Liao. She will prove a challenge.He snapped the coin down on the table and left the booth. A worthy challenge.
By the time he reached the door and saw the light drizzle beginning to come down, the assassin had almost completed the transformation to Chuck Grayson. He pulled his collar up and hunched his shoulders against the cold rain. He stepped out into the night, and started across the street.
A sudden shout from his left made him begin to turn that way just as a car on his right squealed on its brakes. The assassin hesitated, part of him refusing to believe that he could be taken down in a simple traffic accident. As the car clipped his right leg, fracturing the thigh and shin, a bolt of agony shot up his spine and exploded out the top of his head.
As he hit the ground, echoes of the pain rippled through him, but he smiled in spite of it. That pain was not enough to hide the sting of the dart he felt in his shoulder, or the knowledge that the pain had been dulled by the drugs in his tea. He had been taken, and taken by professionals.
Unconsciousness did not wipe away his smile. The realization that he had, in fact, proved a worthy challenge to someone else made his sleep quite pleasant.
33
Arc-Royal
Federated Commonwealth
25 August 3055
Nelson Geist held his head high despite the fatigue making every muscle and bone of his body ache. Though he was not in chains and the Kell Hound infantrymen leading him down the corridor did not handle him unkindly, neither was he being treated as a free man. In some ways he had known more liberty with the Red Corsair, and with that thought the steel band on his wrist began to chafe.
He had given the Hounds everything they had asked for, both under normal interrogation and again when some nameless bastard who stank of the Clans started using chemical interrogation techniques. Nelson had a sneaking suspicion that the Clanner would have resorted to physical torture had he not been restrained because the man so obviously did not like the answers Nelson had given him.
The guards split apart as they approached a set of double doors that swung open and admitted Nelson to a briefing room. At the head of a long oaken table sat Colonel Allard and at his right was a young man in Clan leathers. Seated on Allard's left was the Clanner who had interrogated him. A couple of other officers took up places at the far end of the table, including one who reminded Nelson of the statue of Patrick Kell he had seen during his stint at the Nagelring twenty-seven years before.
Dan Allard pointed at the lone chair at the nearer end of the table. "Please be seated, Kommandant Geist. We apologize for putting you through an ordeal, but our need is urgent."
Nelson lowered himself carefully into the chair, resisting the desire to slump in exhaustion. "I appreciate your concern, Colonel. For the most part I have not found the experience unpleasant, but I would not want to repeat it." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I want to help, and I've told you everything I can. Give me a 'Mech and I'll repay my debts to you and the Red Corsair in full."
As Nelson looked around at the men and lone woman seated in front of him, the MechWarriors among them shied from eye contact— even the Clanners."You're not going to do that, are you, Colonel Allard?" Full realization of what was truly going on hit him. "This is a trial, isn't it?"
Dan shook his head. "No, Kommandant, this is not a trial. It is an informal hearing, convened to let you know where you stand and to explain why we have reached the decisions we have made concerning you." Dan glanced at the man to his left. "Star Colonel Ward fervently believes you are a Trojan horse full of disinformation designed to cripple our efforts to stop the Red Corsair. Conversely, Major Kell here is willing to make a place for you in his battalion."
Chris Kell's warm smile shielded Nelson from the icy glare the older Clanner gave him. "And you, Colonel, and the rest of you?"
Dan shook his head. "I am undecided. I think you are a fine warrior and I would be happy to have someone of your caliber in my command. Conal Ward, Khan Phelan Ward, and Dr. Kendall have reservations that make me approach you cautiously."
Nelson's gaze flicked past Khan Phelan and settled on the petite, black-haired woman sitting around the corner of the table from the Khan. I remember her.Dim recollections of the woman visiting him while he was still in the throes of a chemical interrogation returned slowly. She said her name was Susan. I thought she was a dream.
She adjusted her glasses and met his stare. "In our interview I learned some things that concern me, Kommandant. Mind you, none of these matters are pathological, and with proper therapy, I think you should recover fully. ..."
"The only therapy I need, Doctor, is to be strapped into a 'Mech with the Red Corsair in my sights."
Nelson's growl reinforced the smile on Chris Kell's face, but that did not stop Doctor Kendall. "The Stockholm syndrome was first identified nearly eleven hundred years ago as a hostage's identification with his captors. It is a form of adaptation that is quite normal in a highly stressful situation like the one in which you found yourself."
Nelson leaned back and raised his right fist. "This manacle marked me a slave, Doctor, not a hostage. This kept me apart from the bandits. There was no identificationwith them."
Conal Ward's head came up. "Is that so, Nelson? You were the Red Corsair's lover. I hardly see a wall there."
"That was different."
"Was it?"
"Yes." Anger and rage shook him. "She was an obsession. I hated her, yet I could not resist her. I'm sure the doctor here can tell you that I was punishing myself or compensating for my half-hand or something like that. I don't know and I don't care. All I know is that I still hate her and if she's ever in my crosshairs, she will become only a memory."
As he finished speaking, Nelson realized he was gripping the steel link on his wrist and rotating it with his maimed hand. Glancing down, he saw blood begin to seep up through the abrasions. When he looked up again, he saw Kendall shaking her head.