by Timothy Zahn
"Maybe I'd like to rehear it," Jack said.
"It is no concern of yours," Thonsifi repeated. "May I bring the next case?"
Jack glowered across at his pillar, and the Golvins still standing guard around its base. In other words, foreigner, back off and butt out?
Fine. Jack would back off. For now.
But the One would hear about this . . . and Jack would find out what was going on.
In the meantime, there was work to do. "Very well," he said to Thonsifi. "Bring it on."
With questions about the mysterious prisoner swirling through his mind, he called an early lunch break. To his relief, and as Draycos had predicted, no one raised any objections to his decision to return to his apartment for a few minutes before rejoining the others for the midday meal.
Draycos was nowhere to be seen as he pushed aside the fringe and entered the apartment. "Draycos?" he called softly as he walked into the bedroom.
"Here," the K'da said, lifting his head into view from the far side of the bed.
"Catching a little nap, are we?" Jack asked, circling around the foot of the bed. "Wait'll you hear—geez!" He broke off as he came within sight of the black blood spread across the other's scales.
"I had to descend the shaft rather quickly," Draycos explained, getting gingerly to his feet. "It looked worse before."
"I'll just bet it did," Jack said, heading into the bathroom and grabbing one of the washcloths. "Get in here."
A few careful minutes later, he had wiped off most of the caked blood. "At least you look better now," he said as he rinsed out the cloth. "What's the rest of the damage?"
"It's not too bad," Draycos assured him. "A few bruised muscles and strained joints and lightly burned paws. A day or two of rest against your skin and I should be back to full health."
"I hope so," Jack said, laying out the cloth to dry and heading for the galley. "Because something new has just come up."
He related what little he knew about the prisoner as he got the K'da some meat and water. "At least now I know what the noise was that tipped them off," he concluded. "You falling down the shaft."
"Descending the shaft rather quickly," Draycos corrected as he wolfed down the meal. "Though I'm not sure whether to be pleased or regretful for my unplanned part of this incident."
"You don't think this guy's really a murderer?"
"I don't know," Draycos said. "But we've both seen the Golvin ability to shape and color the truth to say what they wish others to hear."
"Like in just about every case I've heard in the past six days," Jack said wryly. "Makes your ears itch after a while."
"In that they are not so different from other peoples," Draycos pointed out. "But it means we must be careful not to come to any conclusions until we know all the facts. I trust you'll be speaking to the One about that?"
"First chance I get," Jack said, clearing away the remains of the K'da's meal. "Meanwhile, I need to get back. Hop aboard, and let's go."
The chance arrived sooner than Jack had expected. When he returned to the Great Hall, he found the One waiting for him.
"Good midday to you, One Among Many," Jack greeted him. "This is a fortunate meeting."
"Perhaps not so fortunate," the One warned. "Thonsifi tells me you have asked for information on our prisoner."
"That's right," Jack said. "I was told he killed four of your people?"
"Yes," the One said, his voice darkening. "Four of the Many, none of whom was threatening him in any way." He eyed Jack. "Nor did they offer any provocation to him," he added pointedly.
So Thonsifi had also given him a rundown on the morning's decisions. "I'd still like to hear all the facts," he told the One. "I may decide that a rehearing of his case would be—"
"There will be no rehearing," the One snapped.
Jack took an involuntary step backward. The sudden blaze of fury was something he hadn't seen in these people before. "I understand your anger," he said, keeping his voice calm. "But there may be circumstances—"
"The circumstances are that he killed four of the Many, that he was found responsible for those deaths, and that he will remain a prisoner until his death."
"I understand," Jack said. "But as Judge-Paladin it's both my right and my duty to investigate these matters."
"And you have done so," the One said. "Your investigation is now ended."
For a long moment he and Jack gazed at each other. "Very well," Jack said. "With your permission, I have yet to eat my midday meal."
"Then eat and be filled," the One said. His surge of anger was gone, his voice that of the calm leader again. "More arguments and claims await you this afternoon." With a nod, he brushed past Jack and headed for the exit.
And with that, apparently, the conversation was over.
But that didn't mean the subject was closed, Jack promised himself. Not by a long shot.
* * *
Chapter 13
The click of the stateroom door being unlocked was their only warning. "Quick," Alison muttered, thrusting out her hand to Taneem.
Fortunately, they'd had a lot of practice in this lately. The K'da was up her sleeve and out of sight before the door even started to open. Alison even had time to flip her notebook back from the lock mechanism diagrams she'd been drawing to the pages with a far more innocent journal entry.
"Morning," Frost said as he strode into the stateroom. Dumbarton and the Brummga Mrishpaw were trailing behind him. "Enjoying your vacation?"
"Oh, it's great," Alison said. "Especially the sun deck. Are we going to be able to get another volleyball game going by the pool again before the formal dinner?"
"Cute," Frost growled. "I've got a job for you."
"If it involves scrubbing decks, the answer is no," Alison warned.
Frost's lip twitched. "It involves opening safes."
Alison raised her eyebrows. Taneem had told her Frost had suggested to Neverlin that she practice on the ship's safes. But it had sounded like Neverlin had scotched the idea.
Apparently, Frost had decided differently. This could be highly interesting. "What kind of safes are we talking about?" Alison asked.
"Let's find out," Frost invited, gesturing toward the door. "Grab your stuff."
The safe was a big walk-in vault with a keypad lock, unimaginatively hidden behind a panel at the back of a closet in one of the staterooms. It was, fortunately, a brand Alison had often worked with.
Even more fortunately, the closet's cramped space meant she could work without Frost or anyone else staring over her shoulder. That meant she could make a big show of the operation, dragging out the procedure and making the whole thing look more complicated than it really was.
She worked her sensors first, spending a couple of hours taking all the readings she could think of. After that, she took a few duplicates, just for show. Then, sitting down comfortably with her back pressed against the vault door, she sifted through the data while Taneem did her K'da over-the-wall magic.
She sat there until Taneem signaled by lightly touching her back with her claws. Then, declaring it to be lunchtime, she asked Frost to have some food delivered to her and returned to her stateroom.
There, after making sure no one had planted any new bugs in her absence, she and Taneem compared notes.
It was just as well that they had. Alison's own inspection had given her all she needed to get the vault open. But Neverlin had added an extra bonus to the vault that her sensors hadn't picked up.
There was a self-destruct mechanism on the inside of the vault door, designed to incinerate everything inside the vault if not properly disabled. It probably wouldn't be very healthy for anyone standing just outside at that moment, either.
Fortunately, Taneem's scouting had also shown the key to disarming it. The bomb was wired through the keypad, which meant that some special code had to be entered before the actual unlocking code was used.
At that point, the rest was fairly easy. Alison had already assembled the
MixStar deciphering computer packed into her belt and the soles of her shoes and was running her data through it. All she had to do to fix the self-destruct problem was make sure to wait until the computer had extracted two separate codes instead of stopping with just one.
She had the two codes and was halfway through her meal when Frost returned. "You ready?" he growled.
"These things take time, Colonel," Alison said. She took another look at his eyes—"Fortunately, I've had all the time I need," she added hastily.
"Good," Frost said coldly. "Let's go."
Alison braced herself. "I want something in return."
Frost stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly, deliberately, he turned back around. "What did you say?" he asked quietly.
"I want Morgan's papers back," Alison said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I'll trade them for getting the vault open."
His forehead wrinkled. "Why? What are they worth to you?"
"I don't know yet," Alison said. "That's why I want them back."
For a moment Frost gazed hard at her. Then, to her relief, he gave a casual shrug. "Fine," he said. "Of course, my associate will probably want to see them when we get to Brum-a-dum."
"Then he can ask me nicely," Alison said, trying to imagine Arthur Neverlin asking nicely for anything. "Is it a deal?"
"Sure," Frost said. "You can have the papers as soon as you get the second safe open."
Alison froze halfway out of her chair. "The second safe?"
"Think of it as practice," he said blandly.
Alison grimaced. "Just exactly how many of these safes are there?"
"Four," Frost said. "But I don't know if I'll want you to open all of them. We'll see." He gestured. "You coming?"
Alison sighed. "Well, the volleyball game was probably off anyway," she said. "Sure, let's go."
The rest of the operation turned out to be something of an anticlimax. With all the careful prep work behind her, plus Taneem's scouting, all Alison had to do was punch in the two codes the computer had given her, twist the handle, and pull open the vault door.
"There you are," Alison said.
"Good work," Frost said, taking her arm and pulling her out of the closet and away from the vault. "You can take the rest of the day off."
"Thanks," Alison said dryly. As if she had any other pressing matters on her hands anyway. "Unless you'd like me to start on the other safe?"
"Tomorrow," Frost said, stepping into the vault. "Dumbarton, take her back to her room."
Neither Frost nor any of his men bothered her any more that day. Alison and Taneem spent the time working on Taneem's safe-cracking lessons, breaking only for dinner and a hot bath before bedtime.
And now that Taneem had actually seen the inside of a safe, she seemed to catch onto the theory even more quickly than she had before. In two days, when they reached Brum-a-dum, she should be ready.
At least, Alison hoped so.
The next day went pretty much the same as the previous one. After breakfast Frost collected Alison from her stateroom, and with Dumbarton and Mrishpaw in tow took her to another part of the ship. Her second project turned out to be a small safe inside a desk in a very luxurious office.
Like the vault, the safe was keypad-operated. Also like the vault, it again took her the entire morning to run her tests and scans. The safe's smaller size meant that Taneem didn't have as much room for her over-the-wall trick, but she was able to see enough to confirm that this time there were no booby traps. After lunch and the computer analysis, Alison opened the safe, and was dismissed again back to her room.
But unlike the previous day, this success came with an extra bonus. Frost himself delivered Alison her dinner tray . . . and with the food he brought her the shoulder bag full of papers she'd taken from Virgil Morgan's lockbox.
Privately, Alison had expected him to go back on his promise once he'd gotten his half of the deal. Perhaps he'd found enough of interest in the two safes that he felt Alison had earned herself a small reward.
Now she just had to make sure her work paid off.
The bag itself was the obvious target. But because it was so obvious, it would be the first thing Neverlin's people would check.
Fortunately for Alison, she had something a little more subtle.
It took her nearly half an hour, working slowly and carefully, to slide one of the needles from her sewing repair kit into concealment inside the edge of one of the larger pictures from Morgan's collection. The transmitter's range was fairly limited, but as long as she was within a few hundred yards she should be able to pick up the signal just fine.
Back on Rho Scorvi, Frost had bragged about having exotic technology that wasn't even on the market yet. Apparently, it hadn't occurred to him that two could play that game.
Just after noon the next day, ship's time, they reached Brum-a-dum.
The trip in was like the trip out from Semaline, only in reverse. The Advocatus Diaboli's pilot found a nice, out-of-the-way orbit to park the ship in, someplace far outside the normal traffic patterns. Then Frost, Alison, and the rest of the inbound group climbed aboard a shuttle and headed in.
Once in atmosphere, they were routed to a regional-sized entrypoint that, if Alison was deciphering the Brummgan script correctly, was named Ponocce Spaceport.
They breezed through customs without even a token inspection. Outside, a half-dozen cars were waiting, each equipped with a Brummgan driver and armed guard wearing close-fitting helmets and armored tunics done up in red, black, and white.
Frost led Alison to the first car, the rest of his mercenaries sorted themselves out into the others, and they were off.
"Can't say I'm very impressed by this friend of yours," Alison commented as the driver wove them in and out of the traffic. "Doesn't he even have a landing pad big enough for that shuttle?"
"He's got room for thirty of them," Frost assured her. "But there was a little problem with the defense transponder system a while back."
Alison nodded to herself. Jack, undoubtedly, and his little sneak escape a couple of months ago. "Not a big problem, I hope."
"Not really," Frost said. "But the simplest solution was to just shut down the transponders. That way, if anything tries to go over the wall—well, let's just say nothing will make it more than halfway over the wall."
Ahead and off to the right, between the other buildings, Alison could see glimpses of something tall and white. "Let me guess," she said. "Laser antiaircraft defenses?"
"And flame-jet antipersonnel ones," Frost said. "Don't worry your little head. We've got things covered."
Alison hid a grimace. So when it was time for her and Taneem to make their break, they were apparently not going to be going over the wall.
The bits of white Alison had seen turned out to be the outer boundary of their destination estate. But instead of being just a simple vertical slab, the wall was shaped like a breaking ocean wave, with the bottom section angling inward while the top section angled back out. The very tip of the top part curved over and downward, in fact, curving nearly back up beneath itself, again exactly like a breaking wave. The whole thing was about thirty feet high and appeared to be made of some sort of hardened ceramic.
Which meant she and Taneem wouldn't be going through the wall, either. They were, she noted uncomfortably, starting to run low on exit options.
The estate's main entrance gate was as impressive as the wall itself, and just as intimidating. It was made of more white ceramic, with gold-colored metal straps that were probably mostly there to impress visitors. Eight armed Brummgas were waiting in front of it, all of them dressed in the same red/black/white uniforms.
The car stopped by the guards and each passenger showed an ID card. One of the guards looked ominously at Alison after her failure to do likewise, but he nevertheless waved them through.
The gate opened and they continued on into the sort of elaborately designed and beautifully sculpted landscape Alison had expected. Half turning, she saw that ea
ch of the other cars in their convoy was undergoing the same ID check.
She also saw that the breaking-wave shape of the wall was duplicated on its inner side. An overall X shape, then, with an overhang on both sides to discourage trespassers and escapees alike.
Or maybe she was being unfair. Maybe the Brummgas just liked the look of a frozen white ocean on their property. Offhand, she wouldn't bet on it.
The house was also impressive, in a stone-faced mausoleum sort of way. The driver stopped at the front door, and with another group of Brummgan guards in attendance Alison and Frost went inside.
Standing in the middle of a huge foyer, glowering at their approach, was Arthur Neverlin.
Alison swallowed hard as they walked toward him, Frost's hand pressing against the small of her back to make sure she didn't dawdle. "So here she is," Neverlin said as they came up to him. His eyes flicked briefly to the bag over her shoulder, then back to her face. "The little girl who's going to solve all our problems."
"Kayna, this is my associate, Mr. Arthur," Frost introduced her. "Mr. Arthur, Alison Kayna."
"Really," Neverlin said. "How do you know?"
Frost's forehead wrinkled slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean this little girl apparently doesn't exist," Neverlin said coldly. "I've done a complete check of all official Internos systems. There's no record of her anywhere."
"And this surprises you?" Alison countered calmly. "I wouldn't be much use if anyone could just punch in my name and pull up my life story."
"Don't be a fool," Neverlin growled. "You think your name means anything? I also put in your age range, your full description, and those two scars on your left shoulder and lower rib cage."
Alison looked sharply at Frost in sudden understanding. "That's right," he confirmed. "You didn't think Dumbarton and Mrishpaw were just looking for cheap thrills when they made you take your clothes off, did you?"
"So who are you?" Neverlin asked.
"I'm Alison Kayna," Alison said, looking back at him. "As for the records, maybe you just didn't look hard enough."
"Or not in the right places," Frost said. "Let me guess. You were born and raised on an non-Internos world?"
