The Devil's Eye Read online

  “Gold,” he said. “Do the gold.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be in to help in a few minutes.”

  “All right.”

  “I put some cable inside, too. By the fireplace. We’ll want to paint them also.”

  “We want to paint the cables?”

  “Of course.”

  “They get the green paint, right?”

  “Nope. Same color. Gold.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  “ You’re bluffing, Carla.”

  “Well, Fallow, it’s all you have left, isn’t it? Here’s your chance to go home early.”

  —Etude in Black

  By the end of the day, the living room looked resplendent in its new coat of gold paint, as did the cables. We spent the evening and most of the night getting set up. At one point, we heard a skimmer pass overhead, and our hearts sank. I ran outside and, when I saw it wasn’t the government vehicle, I waved like a crazy person. But I don’t think they saw me at all.

  We were up early next morning to begin working on the overhead. I began to think we might actually have a chance to pull it off. But the final preparations were difficult, and I spent a lot of time on the extension ladder, inserting ceiling hooks into the overhead dome, stringing cable, attaching and finally loading the blankets.

  When I’d finished, I climbed down and put the ladder back in the shed. Then I went back inside, glad to feel the warmth again. Alex walked me right back outside. “We need to get them in the middle of the living room,” he said.

  “That shouldn’t be hard.”

  We went back onto the deck and looked inside through an open door. Speaking barely above a whisper, he said, “They’ll need a table to do the procedure.”

  “The lineal block?”

  “Yes.”

  There were two side tables, a coffee table, and a dining table. “We don’t want them using the dining table,” he said. Absolutely. It was out of the target area. “When we go back in, we’ll pile dishes on it. Glasses. The toaster. Laundry. Hardware. And anything else we can find.”

  “Okay.”

  He looked around the living room. “Let’s give them the coffee table.”

  “It’s not exactly in the target area.”

  “I know. And you’re right.” He thought about it. “Okay, we can load that up, too. That leaves one of the side tables.”

  “Isn’t it going to be a little obvious if you pull one of them out into the center of the room?”

  “Get the chess set,” he said. He removed a lamp from the side table and pulled the table into the target area. Then he put the chessboard on it and set up the pieces to create a game in progress. We took the two chairs from the dining table and put them on either side.

  When it was finished, he looked around the room. He didn’t say anything, but he looked happy.

  We went back outside. “Anything else, Alex?” I asked.

  He studied me and bit his lower lip. “Can you cut your hair a little shorter? To look like Krestoff’s?”

  It would take more than cutting it shorter. Krestoff was sporting a local style that apparently emphasized taking advantage of wind resistance. “Sure,” I said.

  “Do it.” He sighed. “Pity we don’t have some dye.”

  “So I could go blond?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think I have the right complexion for it.”

  “In the dark, nobody’s going to notice.”

  After that, it became just a matter of waiting. That, of course, is when you start worrying. “You know,” I said, “maybe they’re just going to leave us here. Or maybe they’re hoping we’ll try to climb down and get ourselves killed.”

  “No,” said Alex. “If they’d wanted anything like that, they’d have pushed us off themselves. They would not be happy trying to explain how we turned up dead. Or missing. And for another thing, they don’t know whether other people are aware why we came here.” He kicked off his shoes and propped his feet on a stool. “The last thing they need is for something to happen to us.”

  We’d expected Krestoff to return within a day or two. But the days passed, and the skies remained empty. We saw a few aircraft, though they were too far or too high after that first time for us to have any realistic chance to signal for help.

  It presented a problem. We couldn’t risk having them arrive, say, in the middle of the night. Or slip in when we were watching the HV and not paying attention. If they took us by surprise, our escape plan would evaporate. So we set up a system. Twelve-hour watches during which one or the other of us was constantly on the lookout.

  We rearranged the furniture and relaxed as best we could, with one of us always posted by the window or the front door.

  What do you do with your time when you know somebody’s coming to pick apart your brain? For me, it was mostly watching stuff that didn’t require my paying attention. Comedies where people fell down a lot and thrillers that were mostly chases. And light reading. Material that didn’t require emotional input. I had no emotions left.

  We took our meals together, and in the early evenings we sat around the living room with the lights about halfway down. Alex was reading Their Finest Hour. He had the book on the coffee table and turned each page cautiously. He’d stop occasionally to read me a passage. He especially enjoyed doing Churchill’s lines for me: Never before in the history of human conflict . . . And, Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be . . . “I wish we had him here,” he said.

  “Which side was he on?”

  Alex rolled his eyes. “The civilized side.” He grew thoughtful. “It’s a pity they didn’t have avatars. He was too early.”

  On the ninth day, a monster storm hit and left us buried in snow. We opened the door when it was over and had to climb a snowbank just to get outside.

  I hoped that maybe Peifer would discover we’d gone missing and would be hot on the trail. But that was a long shot. When I mentioned it to Alex, he asked how Peifer could possibly track us to that lonely outpost.

  Since it was election season, we got to watch the various candidates going on about how they’d make life better for the world. Everybody made it a point to take a stand against the Mutes. They differed, of course, on the details. Some wanted to bring in the Confederacy. But the Confederacy wasn’t all that popular on Salud Afar, where it was seen as a distant power that, given the chance, would happily make off with the world’s resources. I got the impression politicians on Salud Afar made it a habit to run against the Confederacy, to paint it as a threat.

  Other news was generally inconsequential: the unexpected death of a well-known one-time beauty queen, the scandal caused by the discovery that a former world-class athlete was a bigamist, a show-business celebrity arrested for obscene behavior. Another entertainment icon was being accused of having thrown his wife down a staircase. He claimed someone had broken into the house and done the deed.

  There were reports of still another brush with Mute ships. “No shooting this time,” said a young, enthusiastic male journalist, “but these incidents are becoming increasingly numerous. It looks as if we’d better prepare for the worst.”

  That evening, we picked up an interview with an economist who claimed that something unusual was happening. “A lot of the major corporations,” he said, “especially the places heavily invested in real estate, are divesting themselves. Downsizing in an extraordinary way.”

  I looked at Alex. “That’s what you were saying, except it sounds a bit bigger than you thought.”

  “Why?” asked the interviewer.

  “Don’t know,” the economist said. “It could be coincidental, but I doubt it. I suspect a downturn is coming.”

  “But the economy’s strong, isn’t it, Cary?”

  “It was a few weeks ago, Karm. But it’s become pretty wobbly suddenly.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea. The long-term trends are all up. The only thing
I can think of, and I want to emphasize this is only a wild guess—”

  “Go ahead, Cary. Let’s have it.”

  “It may be that war is coming. War with the Mutes.”

  “But wouldn’t that be a spur to production? Wars historically are good for business.”

  Cary nodded. “That’s right, Karm. If you win them.”

  I must have been getting morose. Alex told me to cheer up, hang in, that we’d be all right. “We’ll get out of here,” he said. “And we’ll get Belle and go out to the Lantner world and find out what’s going on.”

  In the evenings, sometimes, I wrapped up in a blanket, turned off the outside lights, and went out on the deck to look at the sky. At the haze that was the rim of the Milky Way. Or in the opposite direction at Callistra. On the evening that we heard the economist, Alex joined me. We stood for a while, standing in the darkness. “They should be here soon,” he said.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Watch your head.

  —Dying to Know You

  The day after we’d watched the interview with the economist, they came. Alex was spread out on the sofa, reading a political history of the Koranté Domain. He’d just finished commenting on what he would give to obtain something, anything, from that era. A Brokasian vase from the courtroom where they’d tried the whole family. What would that be worth?

  It was evening. We both heard the approaching skimmer long before we saw it. (It was my turn on watch.) We did a quick inspection of our setup to make sure everything was ready. Then we saw the lights overhead, and the vehicle began to descend. “Showtime,” said Alex.

  A cable, painted gold, ran down the matching gold wall opposite the front door until it reached the floor behind the sofa. There it passed through a ceiling hook that we’d hammered into the floor. It then ran up the arm of the sofa and was secured so that anyone sitting on the sofa could reach it and release it. The arrangement was not particularly noticeable to visitors coming in the front door.

  We waited for the skimmer to set down. As it did, Alex sat up, released the end of the cable from the sofa arm, and tugged on it once or twice to make sure it wasn’t stuck anywhere. He held it out of sight, gripped in his right hand, which dangled casually over the sofa arm.

  I’d put a smooth gray rock on a side table about eight strides from the door. The table had an artificial plant on it. I’d made no effort to hide the rock. It was right out there where anyone could see it, like an innocent decoration.

  The engines shut off, and we heard the hatch open. Then voices. I took station by the window. “Three of them,” I said.

  “Which ones?”

  “Krestoff and the bong thrower. Corel. And somebody else. Little, dumpy guy.”

  “You don’t mean the pilot?”

  “No. The pilot’s still in the aircraft.”

  “Okay. The dumpy guy will be the tech.”

  “They’ve closed the hatch.” We’d been pretty sure that would happen. The pilot had closed it when he’d delivered us. It was too cold out there to sit with it open. “Here they come.”

  “Okay. We ready?”

  “Yes, sir. Krestoff will be first in the door. Bong is bringing up the rear.”

  “Okay. The tech shouldn’t be dangerous.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  “Whoever can get to him first—”

  The voices had gotten louder. “Here they come.”

  I waited by the door. Krestoff asked Kellie to open up.

  She waited a few seconds and tried again.

  I went over and opened the door for them. “We didn’t trust Kellie,” I said.

  Krestoff stood in the entrance, amused. But she had her scrambler in her hand. “She wasn’t spying on you. Nobody’s that interested. But it doesn’t matter.” She indicated I should back off a few steps, and came inside. She looked over at Alex, sitting lazily on the sofa.

  She was wrapped in a heavy jacket. A thick woolen hat was pulled down over her ears.

  I allowed myself to look scared. It didn’t take much acting. “Hello,” Alex said. “We were beginning to think you’d forgotten us.”

  She signaled the others to come in. The dumpy little guy carried a black box. He had a straggly beard, just beginning to gray. Bong came in behind him, hauling a larger black box. He set it down on a chair and closed the door. He’d never looked bigger. Didn’t even bother showing us a weapon.

  “We want to run an exam,” Krestoff said. “Make sure you’re okay. After we’ve done that, you’ll be released.”

  “Look,” Alex said. “We know what this is about. Don’t try to hide it from us.”

  “What what is about?”

  “You’re going to do a lineal block. On each of us.”

  She hesitated. “Okay. I don’t suppose there’s any point hiding the truth. But you won’t be harmed.”

  “You’re going to lock away what? Everything having to do with Vicki Greene?”

  Another pause. “Yes.”

  “Before you do that, answer a question for me.”

  “If I can?”

  “Who are you working for?”

  “The CSS.”

  “I hope you’re a rogue unit. That the entire organization hasn’t been corrupted.”

  She turned to the dumpy guy. “Doctor, do him first.”

  “It’s Wexler, isn’t it?”

  That stopped her in her tracks. “No,” she said finally. But her eyes delivered a different message. “And that’s enough nonsense.” She walked over to the table with the chess set and swept the pieces onto the floor. “Use this.”

  I doubted the guy was a doctor. He did not look especially bright.

  Bong picked up the larger box, brought it over to the table, and set it down.

  “Please,” said Alex. His voice quivered. “I’ll give you all I have.”

  All I have was the operative phrase. I started a four count.

  The tech set his own box down, and opened it. He signaled Alex to come over and sit down at the table.

  Alex started to get to his feet, keeping the cable out of sight.

  I’d gotten to three. I checked the exact position of the rock on the table with the plant.

  The tech was about to say something to Bong as I reached four.

  Alex let go of the cable. The far end was outside the house, looped over a branch of the tree that jutted from the cliff edge. It was attached to a heavier rock than the one I had available. That rock, of course, plunged downward, yanking the cable with it.

  Inside, the cable jumped up the wall with a sudden slithering sound, raced across the overhead through the series of ceiling hooks and the corners of two blankets, which were held together by nails.

  Their corners released, the blankets opened and dropped their loads on our startled visitors. Rocks and firewood, loose earth, paint cans, wrenches, dishware, glasses, lamps, and a glass bottle we’d found in one of the bathrooms rained down on them. I stepped in while the stuff was still falling and nailed Bong on the jaw with my rock. I’d planned to get him between the eyes, but he’d gone into reflex protective mode, and I had to settle for whatever target presented itself. He went down like a small rhino. Seconds later, Alex had the scrambler from a startled Krestoff. I went digging in Bong’s pockets, found another weapon, a blaster, and aimed it at the tech.

  He threw up his hands and squealed. “Don’t shoot. Please. I didn’t mean any harm to anyone.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Don’t—”

  “I’m only here because they called me.” He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead. “I’m not part of this.”

  I took a quick look out the window. “He’s still in the vehicle.”

  Krestoff was getting to her feet. Alex leveled the weapon at her. She flicked on her comm link.

  “Don’t,” he said. “Not a sound.”

  She hesitated. The link was on a bracelet. She gazed at it.

  “Take it off,” he said. “Don’t say a word. Just toss it over here.” />
  She removed the bracelet and dropped it at her feet.

  “Back away from it,” I said.

  She did, while Bong started to growl and began struggling to his feet. He turned a look of pure hatred in my direction.

  I picked up the rock and hit the bracelet with it.

  Krestoff looked up at the overhead, where the two blankets dangled. She began to laugh. “Not bad,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought you two had it in you.”

  “Just don’t make any sudden moves,” he said. “Corel.”

  Bong reacted to his name.

  “Let me have your link.”

  He shook his head. No.

  Alex sighed. He aimed Krestoff’s scrambler at him and pulled the trigger.

  Bong started to cry out, but the scream ended in a whimper, and he collapsed. Krestoff’s eyes came up to meet Alex’s. “I’ll kill you,” she said quietly.

  The link was clipped to his collar. Alex removed it, inspected it, dropped it on the floor, and stepped on it.

  I used a piece of cable to secure Krestoff’s hands. Alex got the technician. I checked Bong. He was breathing.

  “He’ll be out for a while,” I said.

  The pilot was sitting out there reading.

  “Don’t hurt him,” said Krestoff.

  We gagged her and the tech.

  Krestoff’s eyes found me. She would have loved to get me alone in an alley.

  The hatch was shut. I wondered if it was locked. If we went out through the back door, sneaked up on him, and ran into a lock, it would probably blow the entire operation. Best was to give him the opportunity to open it.

  We put on their jackets. Alex and I could both have fit in Bong’s. I also removed Krestoff’s boots and pulled them on. They weren’t a bad fit. Bong’s boots, on the other hand, would have swallowed Alex, so he stayed with his own shoes. Krestoff smirked behind her gag. She didn’t think we were going to make it. Her partner mostly made growling noises.