"I want to know what we're up against. Kit Carson told security the bastards who've attacked Ianira and her family are members of the Ansar Majlis Brotherhood. He's not here yet, or I'd ask him to brief us."
Shahdi Feroz moved sharply at the mention of the Brotherhood, as though wanting to deny what he'd just said. Then she sighed, tiredly. "Ansar Majlis... This is very bad, very dangerous. The Ansar Majlis Brotherhood began when Islamic fundamentalist soldiers began recruiting down-time Islamic warriors for jihad through the gates where TT-66 used to be. The station is destroyed, but the gates still function, of course."
She spoke with a bitterness Skeeter understood only too well. He hadn't known anyone personally on the station, but hundreds of innocents had died when the station had been blown sky-high. The elevator's soft ping! sent Skeeter two inches straight up the wall. But it was only Kit Carson, face haggard, eyes bleak. He moved quietly into the office as Dr. Feroz continued her explanation.
"Since the station was destroyed, thousands of down-time recruits have been brought through to fight jihad. Some of these soldiers have banded together to form a brotherhood. They have styled themselves after the nineteeth-century Ansar, fanatical religious soldiers of the Mahdi, an Islamic messiah who drove the British out of the Sudan and killed General Gordon at Khartoum. It operates very much like the social structure of a nomadic tribe. Those in the brotherhood are fully human; those outside are not. And the lowest, least human of all are the women of the Lady of Heaven Temples. Such women are considered evil and heretical by these soldiers. A female priesthood, a female deity..." She shook her head. "They have sworn the destruction of the Artemis Temple and all Templars. There has been trouble with them in the Middle East, but they were for many years contained there. It seems they are contained no longer. If they have managed to establish cells in major cities like New York, there will be terrible violence against the Temple and its members. The whole purpose of this cult is to destroy the Lady of Heaven Temples as completely as if they had never existed. It is jihad, Mr. Morgan, a particularly virulent, fundamentalist form of hatred."
Skeeter wanted to close his hands around someone's throat, wanted to center the bastards responsible for these attacks on Ianira and her family in the sights of any weapon he could lay hands on. Instead, he forced himself to wait. He had learned patience from Yesukai, had learned that to destroy an enemy, one must first know and understand him.
Bull Morgan clenched his teeth over the stub of his cigar, which he'd retrieved from his desk top and was now shredding between molars once again. "All of which explains the attack on Ianira. And her kids, goddamn it. But those construction workers have been on station for weeks. Why wait until now to attack? Why today?"
Margo spoke up hesitantly. "Maybe someone came through Primary today with orders? I mean, the whole thing blew up within minutes of Primary cycling."
Bull pinned her with a sharp stare. Kit nodded silently, clearly agreeing with that assessment. It made sense to Skeeter, as well. Too much sense. And there was that terrifying vision of Ianira's, right before the violence had erupted. Right after Primary had cycled.
Bull picked up his security phone again. "Ronisha, I want a dossier on every man, woman, and child who came through Primary today. Complete history. Anybody who might have ties to the Middle East or the Ansar Majlis Brotherhood, I want questioned."
Skeeter wanted to question two other individuals, too: the wild-eyed young kid who'd shot whoever it was behind Ianira and Skeeter in that riot, and the person who'd knocked both Ianira and Skeeter to the floor in time for that kid to do the shooting. Skeeter wondered which one of that pair had done the killing in the day care center. Whoever they were, they clearly knew about the threat to Ianira and her family. But why were they trying to protect her? Were they Templars? Someone else? Skeeter intended to find out, if he had to take them apart joint by joint to learn the truth.
Only to do that, he had to find them first.
He edged toward the elevator, impatient to do something besides stand here and listen. Bull hung up the phone again and started spitting orders. "All right, I want the biggest manhunt in the history of this station and I want it yesterday. Hotels, restaurants, shops, residential, library, gym, weapons ranges, physical plant and maintenance areas, waste management, storage, everything. Organize search teams according to the station's emergency management plan. Presume these bastards are armed and dangerous. Personal weapons are not only permitted, but encouraged. Questions?"
Nobody had any.
Least of all Skeeter.
"Let's move it, then, people. I want Ianira and her family found."
Skeeter got to the elevator before anybody else and found himself sharing a downward ride with Kit Carson, of all people. The retired time scout glanced at him as others crowded into the elevator. "You'll organize the Found Ones?"
The question surprised Skeeter. He and Kit Carson were hardly on civil terms, not after his ill-conceived attempt to get Margo into bed with that ruse about being a time scout, himself. Of course, he hadn't known Margo was Kit's granddaughter at the time. In point of fact, not even Kit had known, then. But when the scout had discovered the truth, his visit to Skeeter had been anything but grandfatherly—and nothing even remotely resembling cordial. Kit's concern now surprised Skeeter, until he realized that it had nothing to do with Skeeter and everything to do with how Kit felt about Ianira Cassondra.
So he nodded with a short jerk of his head. "They'll be organized already, but I'll join them."
"Let me know if you need anything."
Again, Skeeter stared. He said slowly, grudgingly, "Thanks. We're pretty organized, but I'll let you know if something comes up we can't handle." Not that he could think of anything. The Found Ones' Council of Seven had made certain the resident down-timers on station were as prepared as possible for any station crisis that threatened them. The down-timers were, in fact, as prepared as Sue Fritchey's Pest Control officers were for an invasion of anything from hordes of locusts to prehistoric flying reptiles—which, in point of fact, TT-86 had been forced to deal with, just a few months previously.
Kit's next question startled the hell out of Skeeter.
"Would you mind if Margo and I joined you and the Found Ones to search?"
Skeeter's brows dove down as suspicion flared. "Why?"
Kit held his gaze steadily. "Because if anyone on this station has a chance of finding them, it's the down-timers. I'm aware of those meetings held in the subbasements. And I know how underground organizations operate. I also want rather badly to be there if and when we do find whoever is responsible for this."
Skeeter had known for a long time that Kenneth "Kit" Carson was a thoroughly dangerous old man, the sort you didn't want as an enemy, ever. It came as a slight shock, however, to realize that the retired time scout would relish taking apart whoever had done this as thoroughly as Skeeter, himself, would. He hadn't expected to share anything in common with the world's most famous recluse.
"All right," he found himself saying tightly. "You're on. But when we do find them..."
"Yes?"
He looked the man he was mortally afraid of straight in the eye. "They're mine."
Kit Carson's sudden grin was as lethal as the look in his eyes. "Deal."
Skeeter was left with the terrifying feeling that he'd just made a deal with a very formidable devil, indeed. A deal that was likely to lead him places he truly didn't want to go. Before he could worry too intensely about it, however, the elevator bumped to a halt and the doors opened with a swoosh. Five minutes later, he was leading the way through Commons, an unlikely team leader for a search team consisting of himself, Kit Carson, the fiery tempered Margo, and—surprisingly—Dr. Shahdi Feroz.