The Devil's Eye Page 24

  “Will you cancel the transmission?”

  “When I’m able to talk to him. And if I’m satisfied with what I hear.”

  “Surely you understand that conditions here will become chaotic if the information gets out.”

  “I want Alex back.”

  “All right. Stay where you are. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  He needed about forty minutes. Then he reappeared in the office. “I believe we have him now.” He bent his head and listened to someone I couldn’t see. Nodded. And returned his attention to me. “Stand by, Chase,” he said.

  Then Alex was in front of me. He was on a beach, a placid sea at his back. “Chase.” His eyes widened. “What’s going on?”

  Technology is what it is. I was looking at a hologram, but I didn’t know if it was actually Alex, or something generated by a software system. “Alex,” I said, “we visited Atlantis recently.”

  He saw what was coming. “Yes. Excellent trip.”

  “Who was with us?”

  “Selotta and Kassel.”

  “What’s your favorite joke, Alex?”

  “I don’t do jokes.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Wexler, are you there?”

  Wexler reappeared. “Satisfied?”

  “Get him back here.”

  “Not yet.”

  Alex glanced off to one side. He wasn’t alone.

  Krestoff casually walked up behind him. She was carrying a scrambler. And she allowed me to watch as she reset the weapon. To lethal.

  Wexler sighed. “Chase, I don’t like having to resort to this. But the stakes are too high, and you’re not leaving me any choice.”

  A door opened behind me. Bong came into the room. He looked at me with relish. I saw no weapon. He obviously didn’t think he’d need one. I suspected he was right.

  “Now, let me tell you how you may save Alex’s life and your own. I want to know where we can locate the transmission you spoke of. And you will delete it.” He paused to make sure I understood what would happen if I declined. “When that is done, you will, I’m sorry to say, have to remain under our jurisdiction for the time being. I’ll add that, should a duplicate transmission turn up, some fallback precaution you might have taken, that I’ll feel obliged to kill you both.” Bong closed the door, and I was alone with him.

  Alex looked uncertain. Finally, he shook his head. “They’ll kill us anyhow, Chase. Don’t cooperate.”

  Krestoff must have gotten a signal from Wexler. She raised the weapon and pointed it at the back of Alex’s head.

  “Forget it,” I said.

  Wexler studied me for a long moment. “You’re sure?”

  “I can offer a compromise.”

  She did not lower the weapon.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Release us both. Then I’ll rewrite the message. And remove everything from it that points to you. And I’ll hold it until tomorrow. That’ll give you and your thugs time to get out of town.”

  Thugs. Krestoff’s eyes locked on me. She didn’t say anything but I got the message. It was the same as before: I’d like to meet you alone somewhere.

  Wexler sucked on his lower lip. “I’m sorry. That’s not acceptable.”

  My heart was pounding so hard I thought it was going to break loose. But I kept my voice calm. “Then do what you have to.”

  He nodded. “All right. If that’s your last word.” He gave me a few moments to change my mind. Then he turned to Krestoff. “Kill him.”

  “If you do,” I said, “you’ll get nothing from me. And the media will have the truth about Callistra within the hour. I wonder if the voters will be upset with you?”

  He raised a palm to stop Krestoff. And stared at me.

  I smiled at him. I’ve never in my life done anything harder than getting that smile up and running. “Pack your bags, Wexler. She pulls that trigger, we’re all dead.”

  Krestoff waited. Alex stood motionless. Bong circled around to get a better angle on me. And Wexler stood in his faraway location and just sucked in air.

  I picked up a lamp with a weighted base. It wouldn’t have been much of a weapon against Bong, but it sent the right signal.

  Wexler sighed. “How do I know you’ll pull my name out of the story?”

  “You’ll have to trust me.”

  Another long pause. Somebody tried to get into the office. Then I heard raised voices in the corridor, and the noise went away. “Okay.” Bong growled his disappointment. Alex took a deep breath. “You can use the AI in the office. Please cancel your report.”

  “I’ll use my own AI. And I’m not canceling anything. I’ll move it back. In case you change your mind. How long do you need to bring Alex here?”

  “I don’t like the arrangement.”

  “I really care about that.”

  “You said you’d hold off until tomorrow.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Give me seventy-two hours.”

  “You have until midnight tomorrow. Local time.”

  “You’re a bitch, Chase.”

  “Alex, how far are you?”

  “I’m about three hours away.”

  “Get him here by three.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Well, I can be reasonable. I’ll give you an extra two hours. Have him here by close of business.” I was still watching Bong. “Would you get that creep out of here?”

  Bong’s disappointment morphed into anger. “Shelby,” said Wexler. “Wait outside. And see that Ms. Kolpath gets transportation to wherever she intends to go.”

  Bong delivered one more frustrated stare. Then he left.

  “There’s something else I want.”

  Wexler looked trapped. “What?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Ivan Sloan. He’s the pilot who took me out to the asteroid.”

  “What about him?”

  “You have him, too. I want him turned loose also.”

  He shrugged. “Okay. Sure, we’ve no reason to hold him.”

  “And there’s somebody else.”

  “For God’s sake, Chase—”

  “Haley Khan.”

  “Who the hell is that?”

  “Vicki’s pilot. I want them all back.”

  “Okay. I’ll arrange it.”

  “Not that I don’t trust you, but I’ll be in touch with them within the hour. If they’re not free, all three of them, the deal’s off.”

  “I wish,” he said, “you had some notion of the damage you’re going to cause.”

  “Whoever’s in this with you, Doctor,” I said, “will probably throw you to the wolves. You and the administration have wasted several months. That thing’s a lot closer now than it was when you first found out about it. And you’ve done nothing. Except move money and real estate around.”

  “That’s not so, damn you. We’ve been creating shelters. Storing supplies. Getting ready as best we can under extremely difficult circumstances.”

  “Circumstances, hell. Look, Wexler, I’d be willing to bet Aramy Cleev learned about this thirty years ago.”

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s probably true.”

  “He’s the guy you led a revolution against.”

  “He was a monster. And if you’re trying to compare him to me—” He stopped, his jaws clamped.

  “It’s hard to see a difference,” I said.

  They delivered Alex to me in the middle of a public park. Kids rode swings, birds chirped, a cluster of guys were playing the local version of chess. Alex took me into his arms. “You were beautiful,” he said.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes. Still a little rattled, but I’m all right. How about you?”

  “I’m good.”

  “They won’t tell me anything. I take it the big light was missing.”

  “Callistra? Yes.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “They’ve got three years.” We sat down on a bench. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

 
“I suspected it from the time we heard about Jennifer’s comment.”

  “That it didn’t matter whether the wedding had a religious element?”

  “Yes. That and the Calienté business and the math.”

  “Ah, yes,” I said. “The math.”

  THIRTY

  “Parker did what he thought best. Star was tired so he took the short route home. I mean, what were the chances, really?”

  “But it cut through the darkest part of the forest.”

  “I know. But the point is, he meant well.”

  —Etude in Black

  We were sitting on top of a tidal wave, but at least we saw no reason to hide any longer. We checked back into the Blue Gable, where we’d stayed when we first arrived in Marinopolis, and took over the penthouse suite. It had a broad balcony and a magnificent view across the top of the city.

  Ivan called. “They let us go.”

  “Good. You guys are okay, right?”

  “Yes. We’re fine.”

  “Glad to hear it. You hear anything from Khan?”

  “No. Why? Is he in on this deal, too?”

  “Supposed to be. Anyhow, I guess I’ll be seeing you back on Rimway.”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “Are you going somewhere else?”

  “We talked it over.”

  “And—?”

  “I don’t know. She doesn’t want to leave. We have friends and family here.”

  “Oh.”

  “We’ve talked to a few of them. They don’t believe us.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Even if they did, I’m not sure they’d go. This is their home.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Twenty minutes later I got a call from Khan. He said thanks.

  I rewrote the report I’d stored online, eliminating everything that implicated Wexler and his stooges and also anything that I thought would tend to spread panic. That latter part wasn’t easy. But I’d used the term Thunderbolt to refer to the gamma-ray burst, and I got rid of that. I also tried to make the account a little less breathless.

  When I’d finished I directed the AI to deliver it to Peifer at one minute past midnight. Then to follow up and give it to the rest of the world three hours later. As I had earlier, I took precautions to ensure it couldn’t be blocked.

  Then, for the first time in a while, I collapsed and slept through the afternoon.

  That evening we ate in the hotel dining room, which was filled with well-dressed patrons. They had candlelight and soft music, and it felt good to be together again. “I thought I’d lost you,” I told him after the host had seated us by a corner window. We were on the ground floor. Outside, shoppers moved beneath glowing lamps, their arms filled with packages. We were approaching a local holiday in which it was customary to give gifts. There was a theater across the street, doing a musical, Late Night Out, which had been imported from Khaja Luan. I’d seen it two years before, enjoyed it thoroughly, and still remembered the show-stopper, “Go for Broke,” at the end of the first act.

  A family trailing a boy and girl passed outside. The parents carried bags of packages, while the kids giggled and ran along beside them. The boy stopped and looked through the window. At us. Our eyes connected, and he waved. I waved back.

  He’d be about ten when the gamma rays came. The Thunderbolt. “I feel guilty sitting here,” I said. “I’m anxious to hand it over to Rob. Get it over with.”

  “I know.”

  “We’re talking twelve hundred light-years, Alex. I didn’t think novas could do any damage this far away.”

  We both had a soup appetizer. He tried his, but didn’t react to it. “It’s a hypernova.”

  “The worst kind.”

  “Yes.” Alex cupped his chin in his hands and closed his eyes. “Callistra is—was—a hypergiant. It’s been on the verge of collapse for thousands of years. The people here knew that. Everybody knew it. There was a time, a couple of thousand years ago, when they kept instruments out there. Monitors. But the instruments had to be maintained, nothing ever happened, and eventually people got used to it. And forgot about it.

  “I found some reports that the current administration was going to restart the program. But they had other priorities. So it never happened.”

  “Other priorities.”

  “Yes. No wonder Vicki did the mind wipe. She knew, and she couldn’t warn anybody. She did it because it looked like the only chance she had to get a warning back to Salud Afar. She sacrificed herself.”

  “Gutsy woman. Alex, I hate seeing Wexler walk away from this.” He looked ambivalent. “You know, he’s not entirely wrong about the worldwide reaction. I’d just as soon not be here when the news gets out.”

  “I hate this, Alex.”

  “Me, too, babe.”

  Peifer found us first. We’d just gotten back to our suite. “Chase?” His hologram barged into the room. “You got Alex back?”

  “Yes, he’s here.”

  “Thanks.” His voice rasped. “I really appreciate your letting me know.”

  “I was going to call.”

  “What happened?”

  I glanced over at Alex, who was out of Peifer’s field of vision. Reading a book about the missing civilization that Ivan had described. He shook his head no. I don’t want to talk to him. “I got lucky,” I said.

  “Yeah. Good. How about some details?”

  “Umm—”

  “Forget it. Let me talk to Alex.”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Come on, Chase, you just said he was there.”

  “I was speaking metaphorically. I meant here as in out. Free.”

  “Who was holding him? Was it Wexler?”

  “Rob, I’m not able to talk about it now, okay? You’ll have the entire story later tonight.”

  “Me and who else?” He looked skeptical.

  “You’ll have a three-hour head start.”

  “Okay. I can live with that. When?”

  “When what?”

  “When will I get the story? I don’t live up here, you know.”

  “Midnight.”

  “Great. That’s good planning, Chase. How about a preview? You can trust me.”

  “First I need a favor.”

  “You may always ask.”

  “I want you to keep Wexler’s name out of it.”

  “So he is involved.”

  “A favor to me, Rob.”

  “Oh. And when did I accumulate this debt?”

  “Rob, this story is bigger than Wexler. Believe me.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “I made a deal to get Alex back.”

  “I didn’t make the deal.”

  “Please, Rob.”

  “You’re a hard woman, Chase.”

  “Only when you get to know me.”

  “By the way, I’ve another question for you.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Do you know anything about the crazy woman who took a taxi up to Samuels a few days ago? And then disappeared? The description sounded a bit like you.”

  Minutes later someone knocked on the door. When we didn’t immediately respond, a male voice announced he was CSS. “Here we go again,” said Alex.

  “Please open up.” More knocking.

  There wasn’t really anywhere to go, so I complied. There were three of them, two men and a woman. The woman was not Krestoff. “Chase Kolpath?” The question came from the older of the men.

  “Yes.”

  “The Administrator would like to speak with you.” He glanced over at Alex. “And with Mr. Benedict.”

  “Don’t you guys ever give up?” I said.

  He frowned. Looked puzzled, put his official look back on. “Please come along.” He stepped aside to make room.

  “Before you do this, the original transmission, the one implicating Wexler, is scheduled to go out unless I stop it.”

  �
��I don’t know anything about that, Ms. Kolpath,” the agent said. “But I would appreciate it if you and Mr. Benedict would come with us.”

  I got a jacket out of the closet. A look of utter resignation crossed Alex’s face. He got up and grumbled something indiscernible. We walked out into the corridor, they closed in around us, and we went up to the roof, where another white skimmer waited, identical to the one that Krestoff had used to haul us around. Moments later we lifted off. I was relieved to see that we turned in the direction of the Seawalk and not toward the gray building on the edge of the city.

  Nobody said much. One of the agents asked whether I was comfortable. And the pilot spoke softly to his control. We were approaching Number 17 Parkway, the executive mansion. “It looks as if it really is the Administrator,” said Alex.

  “I guess.” I was not comfortable. “Do we know whether he’s involved?”

  “I’ve no idea how high it went.”

  The building and the grounds were enclosed by an iron fence. We descended onto a pad off the east wing. The agents opened up, and there was a brief exchange with security people. When they were satisfied, we were escorted across a wide lawn and into the mansion. The building itself was of recent vintage, relatively small and unobtrusive, standing among the architectural giants erected by the Cleevs. “It sends the right message,” Alex commented.

  Once inside, we passed through an elaborate security arrangement and were given IDs. Then we were taken to a waiting room.

  “He’ll want us to cancel,” I said, when we were alone.

  “Of course. But I’d be surprised if we see him personally. He’ll have somebody else lean on us. They’ve probably disposed of Wexler.”

  The room was filled with bookcases, but the volumes were all in sets and showed no sign of use. There were portraits of stern men and women who appeared to be looking off at a horizon, and a picture of a waterfall, and another of a structure with columns and porticoes set against the sea. Alex was looking through the books when an aide came in and asked us to follow her.

  She led the way down a corridor lined with more pictures of still more severe people. I wondered whether anyone in power ever smiled for a portrait? A large office occupied the space at the end of the passageway. Inside, a harried-looking male staff member sat at a desk next to a closed door. “Mr. Benedict and Ms. Kolpath,” our escort said.