‘I’m afraid we don’t have anything like that. We’ve only the barest information that the place exists at all. Beyond that we know nothing.’
Bannion looked amazed.
‘Couldn’t you have given some prisoners the full treatment?’
Schultz uncomfortably avoided Bannion’s questioning stare.
‘We did. The mercenaries had been picked up in other cities that had fallen. They’d never been near the place. The ones who actually came from Quahal just clammed up and died on us. We couldn’t get a thing out of them.’
Bannion sagged back in his chair. It creaked dangerously.
‘That’s just great.’
‘You’ll have to play it by ear.’
‘Wonderful.’
‘Listen, I never said it was going to be easy.’
‘You never said anything, did you?’
Schultz ignored Bannion’s flash of temper.
‘Is there anything else you want to know?’
‘Yeah, how do we find our way there? Do we just cruise off into the nothings and hope we strike lucky?’
Schultz pursed his lips and played with his papers.
‘We found you a wayfinder.’
Bannion grinned sarcastically.
‘You’re too good to me.’
Schultz scratched his neck awkwardly.
‘Listen, Bannion, get off my back, will you? I’m only doing the best I can.’
‘Sure, sure.’
‘Someone has to do it.’
‘And Bannion’s the sucker, right?’
‘Will you cut it out?’
‘Okay, okay.’
Bannion thought for a moment.
‘How do we know we can trust this wayfinder? How do you know he ain’t running a con on the chance of getting out of the city?’
‘You want to see him?’
Bannion waved an expansive hand.
‘Sure, what do I have to lose?’
Schultz punched the talk button on his desk intercom.
‘Sapristien.’
A muffled response came from the speaker.
‘Bring in the old guy, will you?’
Another muffled response. After a few seconds the door opened and an elderly man was pushed inside. He was short, and on the heavy side. His head was bald, but he had bushy eyebrows and a flowing beard. His hard bright eyes and wrinkled face seemed to indicate a keen intelligence. He wore a dirty white smock that hung down to his sandalled feet. He regarded Bannion and Schultz with a total lack of interest.
Bannion rose lazily from his chair. He walked round the old man, taking slow deliberate paces, examining him from every side. It was one of Banriion’s favourite opening gambits for putting a suspect in an uncertain frame of mind. His exchanges with Schultz had brought Bannion back to something like his old Department of Correction form. He halted in front of the old man, and stared at him for a full minute.
‘And what do you call yourself, grandad?’
The old man didn’t seem the least fazed by Bannion’s performance. He smiled pleasantly.
‘Most times I generally call myself me. Mind you, other people tend to call me the Wanderer, on account of how I roam from town to town.’
Bannion’s eyes narrowed. His voice became a purr.
‘And you claim to be a wayfinder?’
The Wanderer nodded.
‘That’s right. I may not be the best, you understand, but I got enough of the gift to get by.’
The old man leaned towards Bannion confidentially.
‘Between you and me, I wouldn’t like to be one of the best. Too many people getting on your ass, all wanting something.’
‘You look more like a feisty, lying old bum to me.’
The Wanderer looked resigned.
‘You got a right to think what you like.’
Bannion put his hands on his hips.
‘You sound kind of indifferent.’
‘That’s pretty close to where I’m at.’
Bannion pounced. In a flash he’d grabbed the old man by the front of his smock and hauled him on to tiptoe.
‘If you’re going to be working with me, grandad, you’re going to change your attitude. You’re going to have to be pretty damned different, you dig? If you fuck me around I’m going to kill you, right?’
The old man blinked.
‘You’re the boss.’
Bannion abruptly let go of him. The Wanderer staggered back a few paces. Bannion levelled a threatening finger at him.
‘You just keep that in mind.’
He turned to Schultz, who had remained seated during the whole miniature drama.
‘How did you dig him up?’
‘He was pulled in on a forged credit card. It’s a mandatory death sentence under the emergency powers.’
Bannion looked at the old man with fresh interest.
‘What was he doing?’
‘He booked into a penthouse at the Albert Speer Hotel with a couple of hookers. He was paying with a homemade credit card.’
Bannion’s eyebrows shot up.
‘Two hookers? At his age?’
‘At his age.’
Bannion chuckled.
‘He may or may not be a wayfinder, but he’s sure got some secret, and that’s a fact. Tell me, old man. How do you manage it at your age?’
The Wanderer smiled blandly.
‘I live a pure life.’
Bannion grunted.
‘So it seems.’
He switched his attention back to Schultz.
‘I suppose I’ll have to use him?’
‘There aren’t any others.’
Bannion nodded thoughtfully.
‘When do we leave?’
‘How fast can you pick and brief a squad?’
‘How many do I get?’
‘Twenty.’
‘We could be ready in a couple of hours, if you want us to leave that fast.’
‘The ship’ll be fitted out when you’ve got your squad together.’
Bannion took the Wanderer by the arm.
‘You’d better come with me, grandad. I’m not letting you out of my sight.’
The Wanderer put on an expression of innocence.
‘I’m completely in your hands.’
Bannion snorted.
‘You just remember that.’
***
The laser unit had made a circular cut in the steel surface of Stuff Central about a metre across. As far as Jeb Stuart Ho could tell the loose piece in the middle of the cut was only held in place by a thin tongue of metal. He touched helmets with the other three brotherhood assassins.
‘I think we could push it in now.’
Lorenzo Binh turned his head slightly.
‘Shall we use physical strength or psi pressure?’
Ho turned off the laser.
‘We’ll try psi first. It would be best to make as few movements as possible. We have no way of knowing when we may trigger another part of the auto-defence. Attempt to move the cut out section on the count of three.’
Jeb Stuart Ho glanced carefully to make sure the other three were ready.
‘One, two, three.’
They all concentrated. The piece of metal didn’t move. After a few minutes Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.
‘We can’t do it. We just don’t have the power.’
Tom Hoa looked at Ho.
‘We should use physical force?’
‘Yes, but don’t make any unnecessary movements.’
The four assassins slowly slid their hands on to the top of the cut out section of metal. They pushed with all their strength. The section began to bend inwards. Then something snapped and fell into the inside of the sphere with a loud crash.
‘Okay, go! Don’t get in range of those auto guns!’
Tom Hoa slid into the hole and disappeared from sight. Lorenzo Binh went swiftly after him. Lee Harvey Thot followed, but as he swung his body into the empty space, he raised his head a fraction too much. One of the automatic projectile throwers flashed into life. Lee Harvey Thot’s helmet was instantly shattered. His body tumbled through the hole.
Jeb Stuart Ho could see no way that he couldn’t be dead.