All he would say was that he had to leave at once. And it was so obvious where he was going! He was heading for a meeting with Skrynol, to see if the Fropper could make sense of what had just happened.
In the middle of her tirade, Tatty thought of the Tracker. It was still in Mondrian’s light travel bag, the only luggage that he ever carried down to Earth with him. She sneaked it out when he was re-setting his apartment ID key, and hid it away out of sight. Mondrian might not ask her help with the Fropper, but he was going to get it anyway! She could describe his appearance when he was unconscious, and what he had said as he fought his way back to consciousness.
Except that now she did not know how to find the Fropper. She felt like an idiot. As soon as Mondrian left her apartment she had turned on the Tracker. When the moving arrow stopped, she fixed the setting and set out in pursuit. Mondrian had stayed in one place for over an hour, then began to retrace his steps. Tatty hid until he went past her, then started forward again to his first stopping place.
Forward — to nowhere! Mondrian had certainly not had a Fropper session standing in this tunnel.
Was there some trick to using the Tracker, some technique that she had failed to understand?
She stared around her at the walls of the corridor. It was high and narrow, no more than a couple of meters across and lined with tremendous air-pipes. According to Kubo Flammarion, the Tracker should be accurate to better than twenty feet. That was just impossible. The runnel extended monotonously away in both directions for fifty meters or more.
She peered down one more time at the Tracker, bringing her lamp closer to the instrument. As she did so that light was suddenly plucked upwards from her hand. It at once went out.
Tatty screamed. She had been plunged into absolute darkness. She staggered backwards, until she ran into the hard wall of the tunnel. She grabbed at the warm, padded air-pipes, the only familiar thing she could find. As she did so, something caught her around her waist. She was lifted easily off her feet, up and backwards over the pipes, and placed down gently on a soft surface — where no soft surface could be. Thick bindings snapped into place around her wrists and ankles.
“It is not necessary to scream or struggle,” said a cheerful voice high above her. “Nor is it productive to do so. Such actions are quite pointless, since you are in no conceivable danger.”
Tatty drew in a deep breath, ready to scream anyway. Before she could begin, a dim red glow filled the air. It gave her a first faint view of her surroundings. Instead of screaming, she gasped, gaped, and stared around her.
She was in a thiefhole!
The secret rooms were almost a legend, mysterious pockets scattered through the deepest reaches of the basement warrens. They were the Scavvies’ final sanctuary, the hiding places for hunted criminals and contract-breakers. Their locations were passed on only by word of mouth, from one generation to the next. Earth’s official authorities found it best to deny their very existence, since they were unable to locate and destroy them.
Tatty had never been in a thiefhole before, but she knew it at once from Gallimaufry rumor and descriptions. This one was tucked away behind the main air-pipes. The room was ten meters long, five meters high, and less than two across. A crude tap to the basement power lines in one corner fed the glowing fluorescents. They had been modified, to throw a murky red light through the long room. Another tap, this one to the air-pipes, provided just enough circulation to keep the air breathable. On the far wall stood an ancient food synthesizer, not apparently in current use. Next to that was a long painted screen of dull silver, shielding part of the room from view.
“You know where you are?” said a gentle voice from behind the screen.
“Yes. I am in a thiefhole.” Tatty tried to keep the tremor out of her voice.
“Exactly so. With your permission, then.” The light suddenly snapped off — without her permission. Tatty felt chilly electrodes attach to her body, and something else that she could not identify. She shivered.
“These are for my convenience, not for your discomfort,” said the cheerful voice. “You will not be aware of them after a few moments. Do not worry, the lights will return shortly.”
“Who are you?”
There was a high-pitched laugh in the darkness. “Now, Princess Tatiana Sinai-Peres, you know very well who I am, as surely as your name is Tatty Snipes. Otherwise you would not be here.”
“You are Skrynol. The Fropper who has been treating Esro Mondrian.”
“Indeed I am.”
“Well, you may call it treatment if you want to.” Tatty’s courage was returning, and with it anger. “So far as I can see, you’ve been making him worse. God, I wish I had never mentioned your name to him. Put some damned lights on in here! You may be able to see in the dark, but I cannot.”
“Your wish is my command.” The lights came on again, but there was no sign of Skrynol. “Even if you had not brought him,” said the voice behind the silver screen, “someone else would have. It was absolutely necessary that I should meet him, and absolutely essential that I should treat him. Tatty Snipes, can you describe Esro Mondrian to me? How well do you know him?”
“As well as I know anyone!” But then some tone in Skrynol’s gentle voice made Tatty think again. She had not asked herself those questions for a long time. “He is the most intelligent and hard-working man that I have ever met,” she said at last. “But sometimes I wonder if I know him at all. Sometimes I think that he is genuinely fond of me. And sometimes I think that he is a monster, somebody who cares for no one and who will use anything and anyone for his own purposes.”
“Yet you are longtime lovers. And still you work for him!”
“I know.” Tatty’s laugh was harsh self-mockery. “You don’t need to tell me what a fool I am. It’s my own fault — but sometimes I think Esro can persuade me to do anything if he tries hard enough.”
“You do know him, very well. But there is one thing that perhaps you do not realize about him. Mondrian is in some ways the most valuable person in the solar system. He is also the most dangerous human in the Stellar Group. Esro Mondrian is the reason — the sole reason — that I am here on Earth.”
Tatty saw a monstrous shadow cast from behind the screen. Then a worse reality appeared, a gigantic stooped body shuffling forward on multiple jointed legs. She shrank back, as the Pipe-Rilla came slowly forward and squatted at her side.
“I have decided that I will gain nothing by concealing the truth from you.” Skrynol’s mild and cheerful voice did a lot to offset the Pipe-Rilla’s frightening appearance. “I know that you are afraid, but there is truly no reason for fear. I will not harm you. Come, Tatty Snipes, you are a brave woman and you know that we are a peaceful species. I need your help.”
Tatty stared at the long body crouching next to her. It had been strangely modified from the picture-book form, with fleshy forelimbs replacing the usual clawed ones. “I don’t see how I can possibly help you.’’
“I do.” The tall body stretched higher and leaned away, sensing her discomfort at its closeness. “Let me at least describe to you the problem. The Stellar Group members have been studying the human species for centuries — as intensively as humans have I am sure been studying us. In each generation, we strive to identify those humans whom we believe have unique powers for good or evil. Our record of such behavior prediction is excellent, but occasionally we find an anomaly, a human being who seems a total enigma. Such an individual must be watched closely, so that the potential for harm is never realized. And in the case of Esro Mondrian, we have the extreme anomaly: a human of exceptional abilities, whose own compulsions are so strong that they could lead him to self-destruction. And far more than that. Those compulsions imply danger for the whole of the Stellar Group.”