"Only in a negative way," Hawking said dryly.
"Besides, we're not in the rescuing business this time around," Caine told Colvin, throwing a baleful glare at Lathe. "Our mission's apparently the only important thing on the list, and there's nothing in the schedule for caring about Anne or anyone else."
Lathe cleared his throat as Colvin started to protest. "Actually, I think that we're going to have to make an exception on this one," the comsquare said.
Caine stared at him, unable to believe the other's reversal... and a nasty suspicion began to grow within him. "Oh—I see now," he said bitterly. "When it's people whose deaths are going to be on my conscience, it's one of those things I have to learn to live with. When it's someone on your conscience, we do something about it. Is that it?"
Lathe returned his gaze evenly... and only then did Caine notice the tightness around the comsquare's eyes. "It's nothing like that," the other grated, "and if you'll turn your glands down for a minute so you can think straight you'll understand that the cases are entirely different. The truckers aren't connected with anything subversive—us or Torch or anyone else. A simple, nondamaging interrogation will establish that, and they'll be released forthwith. Anne Silcox is something else entirely, and whatever she knows about Torch will eventually be drawn out—and it's not likely to be easy on her."
"Though it doesn't sound like Security will get a hell of a lot from her," Hawking put in. "And what little she knows is five years out of date, besides."
"True," Lathe said. "But we can't take the chance some of it might still be useful." He looked at Caine. "Do you follow the argument? I don't want you thinking there's anything personal about this."
Caine consciously unclenched his jaw. "I suppose so," he said grudgingly. "So... how do we go about it?"
"I've got some ideas," the comsquare said, sweeping his gaze around the room at all of them.
"Jensen, find Reger and get a couple of vans from him. You, Colvin, and Alamzad will get to work reinforcing the bodywork and frame, particularly the front. Hawking, did you get that supply of paraldart antidote Reger promised us?"
Hawking nodded. "He delivered both that and the darts themselves yesterday evening. The bellybomb will take a few more hours to put together, but I can probably have it ready by noon. The limpet mines and special nunchaku are already finished."
Lathe nodded. "Good. That'll be your project for the day, then."
"Belly-bomb?" Caine frowned. "What's a belly-bomb? And what were you rigging up mines and special weapons for?"
"I'll tell you later," the comsquare said briefly. "Mordecai, you'll take Caine and Braune into Denver to pick up some high-temp ablation paste to coat the vans with—Reger can tell you which businesses in town may have some stashed away. Skyler and I will meanwhile work out the details and contingencies. Pittman, you'll assist us in that."
"Me?" Pittman asked, sounding startled. "I mean—why me?"
"Because you're the one who's left," Lathe said reasonably. "Besides which, you'll be driving one of the vans and I'll need to know exactly what you can and cannot do with one of the things."
Pittman seemed to straighten in his seat. "I can do anything the van itself can take," he said with a touch of pride.
"Good." Lathe glanced around the room. "Let's get busy. I don't know if Torch gave its members any psychor training, but I doubt Anne can hold out for too many hours. If we're going to spring her, it has to be tonight."
—
The detention cells and interrogation rooms took up most of the Security building's fifth floor, only a single row of offices along the northern end not devoted directly to that purpose. Galway took the elevator up from the fourth floor—the only way in or out of the level—and headed down the hallway, an odd shiver running up his back. This was possibly the most secure place in Athena, but he couldn't help recalling that the interrogation rooms in Millaire on Argent had been along a hallway very similar to this one.
And he'd nearly died while sitting in one of those rooms.
Two of the interrogation cells near the end of the hallway showed the glowlights that signaled occupation, but only one had guards posted outside. Reasonable enough—most everyone else had agreed hours ago that the two trucker women were totally harmless. The sole reason anyone was still questioning them was that Quinn had ordered it done. Galway grimaced in mild disgust, but at the moment he had far more urgent things on his mind than Quinn's treatment of innocent civilians.
"The general inside?" he asked the guards as they saluted him.
"Yes, sir," one of them said. "He probably won't be there much longer, though—the interrogators don't like outside people present while they're working. Distracts the prisoner sometimes."
Galway tried to imagine Quinn being thrown out of his own interrogation room by underlings, but the picture was as unlikely as it was satisfying. "Tell him I want to see him immediately when he's finished," he instructed them. "I'll be at the guard lounge down the hall."
"Yes, sir."
From the sounds filtering down the hallway, Quinn emerged from the interrogation room about three minutes later, but it was nearly ten before he condescended to wander down to where Galway was waiting. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, not bothering to sit down.
Galway nodded. "First of all, how's the interrogation going?" he asked.
Quinn's face darkened a bit. "Slowly. She's got a high degree of tolerance—some sort of mental conditioning, they think. But it's only a matter of time. I trust you aren't bothering me just to ask that."
"Not at all," Galway said. Pulling the phone across the table, he drew a cassette from his tunic and slid it into the reader. "I came to warn you that your time with her is in danger of being cut short."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Quinn growled.
"This is a phone conversation I had fifteen minutes ago." Galway tapped the switch, and his own voice abruptly came over the speaker.
Galway: "Galway here. What is it, Postern?"
Postern: "Look, I've only got a few minutes—this is the first chance I've had to get to a phone without any of the others around. Lathe and the other blackcollars are planning to—"
Galway: "Speaking of Lathe, why didn't you tell me before you left Plinry that he was coming along?"
Postern: "Because I didn't know about it, that's why. Will you shut up and listen?
Lathe's planning to break that Torch woman, Anne Silcox, out of there tonight."
Groping blindly with one hand, Quinn pulled a chair over and sat down next to Galway, face contorted with an expression that might have been either anger or intense concentration. Probably a combination of both.
Galway: "That's ridiculous. Athena's far too well guarded for them to even get into the city, let alone into the Security building."
Postern: "Maybe. But Lathe's going to try it—and if I were you, I wouldn't be too sure he can't pull it off. I only know a little of his plan, but I can tell you he sure as hell is confident he can do it."
Galway: "All right, settle down. What exactly do you know?"
Postern: "Only that he's preparing a couple of vans with laser protection and armor reinforcing and he's been talking to me about how to do high-speed sideways crabbing moves without turning them over. I think he's planning to just ram the fence at a guard station and hope that the lasers are programmed not to fire when they're in danger of wiping out a Security post as well as an intruder."
"He's wrong on that one," Quinn muttered, half to himself. "Any vehicle trying to ram the gate..."
Galway: "Even if that gets him into Athena—"
Postern: "Look, Galway, don't argue with me—it's not my plan. If you want to assume he can't do it, fine—sit back and watch."
Galway: "All right, just relax. Can you tell me where you're staying?"
Postern: "Ah—not really. I rode there in a closed van, and I'm not really sure of the location or address. Besides, you raid the place and I'm likely to get killed, too."