She walked over to him. Her fingers flew over a couple of the controls. Williams was dimly aware of an alarm sounding somewhere in the bowels of the building. He sat down in her chair, suddenly unable to stand any longer.
“A Qwarm. I’ve read about them but I never expected to actually see one. I’m not that important,” she said.
“How do you think I feel?”
“Stay there.” She activated another panel. “Infirmary? Where’s that doctor I buzzed for? Let’s get some people up here now. I’ve got a man with a knife wound in my chair.” She nodded toward the sprawled body of Marquel. “He was always weak on transcription, but I didn’t have the heart to dismiss him. Never struck me as the violent type. It just goes to show. Is he dead?”
“I sincerely hope so.”
“What’s this all about, anyway?”
“There’s a large illegal human installation operating on the edge of the southern continent. They took us prisoner; we escaped. Ethan, Skua, and the others went back to help those who couldn’t get away. I came back to tell you… to tell you…” Suddenly speech was becoming difficult.
She leaned toward the intercom. “Where’s that medic, dammit.”
A crackling, then a voice responding. “This is Infirmary. What medic, Ms. Stanhope?”
“The medic I just—wait a minute, who is this?”
“Marianne Sanchez, Commissioner. Did you call for a medic?”
“You’re damn right I did. Who took the call? Who was on a moment ago?”
“Not one of the physicians. Josef, I think. Josef Nilachek. He’s with Administration. One of your people.”
“One of…” She looked down at Williams.
The teacher had a phobia about swearing, but he ignored it now. “Shit. Marquel wasn’t alone.”
The shuttle had been unloaded and berthed for maintenance. Nilachek hung back in the shadows until the last member of the service crew emerged from the ship and moved off to chat with his colleagues. He knew what he had to do.
Marquel should have sounded the all-clear and called down for a body bag for his quarry. The fact that the Commissioner had called instead suggested any number of possibilities, none of them good. It was impossible to believe the Qwarm had failed, but then lately it seemed as though nothing was going right. Somehow he was going to have to contact either the company or Bamaputra.
But first he had to ensure that this schoolteacher’s revelations remained on Tran-ky-ky. That meant disabling both the deep-space beam and shuttle-to-ship communications. The beam wasn’t going anywhere so he decided to take care of the shuttle first. It shouldn’t be difficult, and when the small packet of concentrated explosive went off inside the little craft it would attract enough attention to allow him to deal with the beam unopposed.
He had to move fast. First disable communications, then get to this meddlesome teacher and disable him before he could recite the details of his story. Without specific coordinates, the people isolated here at Brass Monkey would never find the installation.
No one saw him slip aboard. A quick glance showed that the shuttle was empty. He hurried down the aisle between the rows of seats. The door to the cargo bay was unlocked. He eased into the cavernous space, ready to deal with any stevedore who might have lingered aboard. There were none to be seen. The unloading process was largely carried out by machines supervised from elsewhere.
He was just placing the explosive when a voice said, “What are you doing there?”
His hand went for the beamer bolstered under his shoulder, relaxed when he saw the speaker. A woman, one of the passengers judging by her attire.
“I might ask you the same question.” He made sure the packet was concealed by his body. “Me, I’m staff. A little repair work.” He nodded toward the doorway that led back to the passenger compartment. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
“Idiots lost a piece of my luggage. Thought I’d come look for it myself. How the hell do you lose baggage in space?”
“I don’t know, but you’ll have to leave. It’s against regulations.” Nilachek was beginning to get nervous. One of the maintenance people might show up at any minute. He started toward her. “If you’ll just come with me, I’m sure we can find your missing luggage. Maybe someone’s found it already.” He took her arm and turned her toward the door.
She shook him off irritably. “These twits couldn’t find their backsides with both hands. Why do you think I came to look for myself?” She turned back to the compartment, frowned. “What’s that over there?”
“What’s what?” He began to edge his hand toward the concealed beamer he carried.
“That plasticine packet over there, between those two conduits?”
“Just patching a small leak. Would you like me to explain how it works? I’d be happy to show you.”
“Yeah, you bet I would. Especially why a patch on a leak needs a timer on it.”
He started to pull the beamer. With unexpected speed the woman slammed the edge of her left palm against his elbow, simultaneously swept her right leg around in a wide arc to slam her heavy foreleg against his ankles. His feet went right out from under him and he landed hard on the metal decking, still trying to extract the beamer. She jumped on top of him and the wind went out of him completely. Stars danced in front of his eyes as he fought for breath. All wrong, this was all wrong. He could hear her screaming for help at the top of her lungs and tried desperately to slide out from under her, but she weighed more than he did. A good deal more.
Williams sat patiently as the doctor sprayed a coagulant and epidermal fixative on his shoulder, then slapped a square of fast-adhering artificial skin over the wound. Nearby, Millicent Stanhope was talking to her security people as the body of her former secretary was loaded onto a stretcher for removal. As Marquel left the office for the last time, she turned to the visitor occupying her chair.
“How did you do it?” She gestured toward the open doors. “Handle him, I mean. They’re professionals. What are you?”
“A teacher, like I told you. Never been anything but a teacher. But a good teacher never stops being a good student. You learn a lot out there.” He nodded toward the frozen landscape visible through the high windows.
“Your collection, or maybe I should say Jobius Trell’s old collection, saved me. Marquel knew all about contemporary weapons but he didn’t know anything about Tran-ky-ky. I knew he wouldn’t let me get to anything obvious, like a sword or war axe. But that dart thrower is small and it looks more like a tool than a weapon. If he hadn’t been a professional killer, I don’t think I could have brought it off. A nonprofessional wouldn’t have been sufficiently relaxed or confident.”
Stanhope nodded slowly. Her desk buzzed for attention. The temporary new receptionist sounded slightly shaken.
“Someone here to see you, ma’am. She’s very insistent. She—hey, you can’t do that.”
The doors had just closed in the wake of the coroner’s crew. Now they slid apart again to admit two young men. They wore side arms and their eyes immediately searched every centimeter of the office. One of them was half escorting, half dragging a smaller man. This individual’s right arm had been bandaged and his face was puffy with bruises.
A large, extremely well-dressed woman sauntered in and stopped between her bodyguards. She indicated the battered Nilachek with a contemptuous flick of her wrist.
“I understand this belongs to you.” She was staring straight at the Commissioner.
Milliken Williams sat up straight in the high-back chair and gaped at the new arrival as the doors closed behind her. At the same time she noticed him. Her eyes shifted from the Commissioner’s face and a sardonic grin spread over her own features.