"Until the timing suited them, anyway." Quinn grimaced. "Well, it's all academic now. They're together, they know we're on to them, and it's going to be a race now as to whether they can finish whatever they're up to before we find them again. I don't suppose you've come up with any more ideas on that score?"
"You've already heard them: some kind of assault on the Ryqril's Aegis Mountain base, or an attack on former Prefect Trendor."
"Neither of which makes any sense." Quinn shook his head. "Especially with Lathe and a full blackcollar team now taking an interest in it. Blackcollars aren't likely to waste their time on something that isn't difficult, important, and feasible."
He fell silent, and Galway fought down the urge to once again explain the logic behind an assassination attempt on Trendor. Clearly, Quinn wasn't stupid—he couldn't have risen to such a high position if he was—but he'd just as clearly created a mental block to anything Galway might have to say, whether it had any value or not. I shouldn't have come, the prefect thought bitterly.
Maybe he'd have done a better job of this if he hadn't somehow gotten it into his head that he had to show me up.
Then again, maybe he wouldn't have. Quinn was, after all, successor and possibly protege to Prefect Trendor, and Trendor hadn't struck Galway either as a man of great intellect or finesse.
But then, neither had many of the Security officials he'd met on Argent during Lathe's mission there, something he'd been too busy at the time to notice. Was Galway's ability to follow these tangled threads of logic that far out of the ordinary? Or could it be that Quinn simply had so much firepower and manpower at his disposal that he'd never needed to outthink his opponents?
"The hell with it," Quinn muttered, breaking the silence. "There's no way we're going to figure out Lathe's plan in time, so we're just going to have to take him out of the game."
"You just tried that," Galway reminded him.
"Yeah, well, this time we're going to do it right." The general jabbed a finger in Galway's direction.
"He's still got to get to Kanai for that list of veterans, right? Well, to do that he's got to contact the Shandygaff Bar—and when he does, we'll have him."
"What, use a phone signal tracer?" Galway shook his head. "Come on, General—don't you think Lathe's just a little too smart to fall for that?"
"What else is he going to do—go there personally?" Quinn retorted. "Hardly. Not after what they pulled on him there last night."
"Unless he expects everyone to reason that way," Galway suggested slowly. "And in that case he might do just that."
Quinn paused, a battle clearly going on behind his eyes. "Well... maybe," he conceded at last, and Galway could sense how much the admission was costing him. "You think I should put a Security cordon around the bar, then, as well as trace the phone lines?"
"I frankly don't think a cordon would work, sir," Galway said. "You saw how easily he identified the plain-dressed units out there today—blackcollars have a knack for spotting Security troops. I think you'd do better to try and use people he'll be expecting to see at the Shandygaff anyway."
"Chong and Briller?" Quinn pulled at his lip. "Interesting. May be worth a try—they'd certainly be keen for another round with him."
"You could feed a tip to them via your informer that Lathe's going to show," Galway suggested.
"They probably can't actually stop him, but they may be able to slow him down enough for you to get an aircar full of troops there in time."
"The bosses won't like that part," Quinn growled. "Especially if their mall stores are damaged in the process."
"You weren't there last night," Galway said grimly. "They were more furious at what could have happened to their own skins in there. I don't think they'd make more than token noises over a successful attempt to cage the man responsible for the fight."
"A 'successful' attempt, you say?" Quinn said with sudden coolness. "Well, rest assured, Galway—this one will damn well be successful."
"Yes, sir." Galway sighed, a heavy weight seeming to settle onto his back. For a minute the frustrating rift between him and Quinn had shown signs of closing... but now, for no real reason, they were suddenly back at odds again. "If I can do anything to help, General—"
"I think you've done all you need to," Quinn cut him off. "You might want to stop by the situation room later, though, and watch us nail your blackcollar comsquare." Picking up a report, the general slid it into his reader.
Getting up, Galway headed silently for the door.
—
"You're not serious," Reger's voice said from the doorway.
Lathe swiveled in his chair to see the other standing just inside the living room, a disbelieving frown on his face. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that," the comsquare said reproachfully, though all five blackcollars had heard the other's approach. "What aren't we serious about?"
"Don't play innocent," Reger growled. "You barely escape from a Security noose this afternoon, and now you're proposing to go put your heads right back into it? What kind of a fool do you take Quinn for, anyway?"
"An unimaginative one, for starters," Skyler said dryly from the lounge chair where he was stretched out. "Chances are he'll reason it exactly the same way you just did, that we're far too intelligent to try something that stupid."
Reger snorted. "The hell with what chances are—and to hell with Quinn, for that matter, because you've got a damn sight more trouble than just him. I've been hearing foam-mouthing from all over the city today over what you dimbos pulled last night in the Shandygaff. You go back there and Nash'll hang your skins out to dry, while the customers stand up and applaud."
"Including the blackcollars?" Lathe asked mildly.
Reger broke off, and something twitched in his cheek. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked cautiously.
"Oh, I don't know—just sort of a conversation opener. I thought you might want to explain why you've carefully avoided mentioning the existence of other blackcollars in Denver."
Reger was silent for a moment. "I won't insult your intelligence by inventing some excuse," he said at last. "I didn't mention them because I thought you might automatically take their side of things in the power struggle going on in the city."
"Their side, and Sartan's?"
"You've actually met Sartan?" Reger asked, cocking an eyebrow. "What's he like?"
"No, no one's introduced us yet." Lathe shook his head. "Can I assume this confession means that you've laid any fears about us to rest?"
"At the moment, frankly, I don't seem to have any choice," Reger admitted. "If you and Bernhard are setting up an elaborate trap for me, I've yet to see through it. Until and unless I do I have to accept or reject you on faith alone."
"Basically the same position we're in, you'll notice," Lathe said. "As it happens, I have no intention of getting us involved in your private little intrigues, on Bernhard's side or anyone else's. We're here to do a job, and I fully intend to get the hell out of here once we've done it. Until then, we still owe you a fortress for your help in finding Caine, and we're going to keep our part of that bargain."
"And if it helps your nerves any," Hawking said from across the room, "we knew there were other blackcollars in town well before we struck our deal with you. You only thought you were keeping information from us, and we're pretty used to that."
Reger smiled lopsidedly. "Thank you," he said with a trace of sarcasm. "Now if we can get back to the original subject, what the hell do you think you can accomplish by going to the Shandygaff?"