by Allan Cole
A moment later a loud snore rattled the room and Davyd slid out of the closet and approached the bed.
Another loud snore erupted from Dmitri and Davyd smiled.
“Lucky bastard,” he said aloud.
But just to make sure he hit Dmitri with the hypo gun, injecting a mild sedative into the med tech’s veins. Other than keeping him asleep for a good eight hours, the only effect the drug would have was that his hangover would probably be worse.
Not much of a price for Dmitri to pay, Davyd thought, for not being murdered the moment he’d stepped into the cabin.
Davyd flipped on the light and got busy. First he scanned Dmitri’s vitals— prints, optic nerves, blood and saliva. With this data he could move at will through any physical security checks.
Another loud snore came from the cot. Davyd laughed. Except for the snore, he thought, for all intents and purposes he was now Dmitri Aizenberg.
Feeling like the most merciful of men, he exited the cabin, young Alex buzzing away in innocent sleep
Davyd’s elation was short-lived.
He sensed the danger the moment he stepped off the gravlift. Just ahead of him was the great sprawling complex that was the Borodino’s Hospital Section.
This was the sleep period for the patients so only the medtechs’ stations were lit, making puddles of light in a lake of darkened wards. There were very few nurses or medtechs about and there were certainly no doctors present.
But as he observed this silent, peaceful scene he felt a sudden sense of danger. His nostrils flared as if picking up a scent— a scent that made his spine tingle and nerve ends burn.
He turned his head, eyes sweeping all around, body coiling like a spring under great pressure. Needing only the flare of a single neuron to trigger him into action.
All his hunter’s senses probed here and there, searching for the source of danger. The first thing he made certain of was that no one was watching him from some dark hiding place.
Then he whispered commands to the gremlin-box and quickly eliminated the possibility that he had set off some invisible alarm and that monitors were now being tuned in his direction.
Still, the viper’s buzz of danger persisted. He had a feeling that a very deadly someone had passed this way not long ago. A grim Reaper on his way to harvest someone’s soul.
More puzzling still— the spoor was vaguely familiar. Had he encountered it before?
Davyd gave himself a mental shake, thinking, Don’t be stupid, Kells! You’ve never met this sonofabitch. Cause if you had, either you would’ve killed him, or he would’ve killed you! No other way about it.
At this point he had three choices. Lift on the mission and get the hell out of there before the guy noticed Davyd had invaded his turf.
Or, screw that— no way am I gonna run— track the asshole down and turkey gobble stomp him to hell. Which I like a lot, but that would blow the mission just a surely as option number one.
Only Option Number Three remained.
Davyd uncoiled and proceeded into the hospital.
He moved casually, acting as if from old routine. When he passed a medtechs’ station no one bothered to look up at the tall, slender tech who strode past— tray of medications in one hand, a report board in the other.
And even if somebody had noticed him and asked his business there would still be no reason for suspicion. Davyd had gremlined into the staff roster and made a small change in the shift schedule, posting Alex for Billy Ivanov’s regular 02:00 Vitals and Pharmacological check.
Davyd was a fine actor. In his business you had to be. But tonight he thought he was putting on a performance worthy of a Galactic Drama Award for it was increasingly difficult to maintain the pose with the smell of his enemy all around him. Before long, however, he became convinced the man had come and gone— retracing his steps like a prowling tiger returning from a kill.
Finally, Davyd came to Billy’s room. He hesitated a moment before entering. It was clear from the signs that his enemy had entered this same room. He was no longer present but Davyd wondered if he’d return.
A part of him relished the thought and licked wolfish chops. To kill this man, he thought, would be no sin. In fact, it would be cleansing— washing away some of the deepest stains on his soul. But duty— ridged duty— called and he turned away from the trail and entered the boy’s room.
He was in for a surprise.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Borodino’s interrogation room was like interrogation rooms everywhere: stark. Three bare walls, a two-way mirrored fourth, one long steel-gray plas table with two steel-gray chairs on opposite sides.
Tanya’s victim was standing stiffly at attention beside one of the chairs. He was like all men who waited to be grilled by a Master Investigator: frightened.
However, behind his fear there was something more: the wounded but still living pride of a doomed gladiator.
“You may sit, Igor Dolgov,” Tanya commanded, purposely using English instead of Russian.
Igor’s eyes widened at the mention of his name. But he didn’t move. Good, Tanya thought. He doesn’t speak English.
She gestured at the chair and Igor quickly took her meaning and sat. Then she turned to Kriegworm, her only companion in the room.
“You have duties to attend to, I believe,” she said.
Kriegworm puzzled at her— at least she thought the he was puzzling. Who could tell for sure on such an ugly face?
“But, ma’am,” the ogre protested, “I thought I was to be included in the interrogation.”
Tanya shook her head. “Not necessary,” she replied. “And inefficient as well. We have many other examinations to conduct before we leave.
“They’ll go much faster if you get everyone ready and the records in order.”
Kriegworm started to object again, but lost his nerve under her steady gaze.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Tanya waited until the door hissed shut behind him, then fished out her Angel. Keyed it on.
“Admiral?” she said to the air.
Immediately Amiriani responded, voice crackling across the com: “Yes, Major? How may we assist you?”
“Until advised further, sir,” she said, “I would prefer all communications between us to be conducted through my own com unit.” She raised Angel to demonstrate.
“I see no difficulty in that, Major Lawson,” Amiriani said.
She heard muffled orders, then the interrogation room com let out a pigsqueal and died.
“There,” Amiriani said— voice now coming through the little speaker in Angel. “Is that to your wishes, Major?”
“Thank you, sir,” Tanya said. “One other thing, sir?”
“Yes, Major?”
She waved around the room. “Please turn off the bugs.”
A long silence as Amiriani and his aides realized that Tanya had once again caught them out. She hadn’t needed to look at the glowing pea-bulb on Angel to know many listening and viewing devices would be scattered all over the room. It was only natural.
Finally, “Forgive me, Major,” Amiriani said. “Apparently someone missed my explicit orders concerning monitoring devices. They will be shut off at once.”
True to his word the pea-bulb blinked once, twice, then went out. A green light bloomed into life: All clear.
Tanya turned to Igor. She studied him for a moment, using the old cop’s trick of taking much longer than necessary for the examination. It did wonders to weaken a stiff spine.
Not that she expected trouble from the young man before her. He was already quivering. She suspected he was looking into the deep, deep abyss of his own writhing conscience. Fighting to maintain a poker face, but losing that struggle mightily.
Igor Dolgov was all military. A build like a Greek god’s draped in a carefully tailored uniform. Made of a far better quality material, Tanya noted, than was normal for officers of his rank and pay.
His face had a noble bearing to it: finely e
tched structure, skin nearly translucent, intelligent eyes framed by Spanish fan lashes. In short, a fast-rising young officer whose family members were, as the Russians said: “men of the old court.”
Tanya scraped her chair back, carefully watching the way Igor jerked as if stung by the sound.
She sat, back stiff, feet flat, a portrait of cold authority. Then she slowly and deliberately placed her briefcase on the table, snapped it open and drew out several official-looking forms and objects.
Tanya carefully laid an old-fashioned notebook on the table, flipped it open, took out an antique pen, uncapped it and laid it next to the notepad.
Finally, she raised Angel to her lips, thumbed “record,” and said in English: “This is Major Tanya Lawson, UWP Master Investigator. I am aboard the Russian battlestation, Borodino, continuing my inquiries into the matter of HolidayOne.”
She brandished the Angel before Igor’s face. His eyes widened and he licked dry lips thinking he was being called on to speak.
Instead, Tanya switched to Russian— and to Igor’s immense surprise her accent was flawless— and continued:
“I am presently in the Borodino’s interrogation room. All monitoring by the command has been neutralized. The conversation between myself and the subject, one Igor Dolgov, will be completely private.”
She laid Angel down between Igor and herself. He eyed it, licking his lips once more.
“State your name, rank and military identification number for the record, please,” she said.
Igor cleared his throat: “Igor Dolgov. Senior Lieutenant. My number is 2-5054-10.”
Tanya nodded. A Russian senior lieutenant was the equivalent of a low-level captain in the American military.
“What was your position on the Borodino at the time of the HolidayOne incident?” she asked.
Igor paled. Eyes misting slightly, he croaked, “I was the firing officer.”
He started to go on, but Tanya shook her head— Stop.
“And what is your position now?”
Igor hung his head. “I have no position,” he said, low. “I have been suspended from duty.”
“For what period?”
Igor was surprised. “What do you mean?”
“What is the length of your suspension?”
Igor shrugged fatalistically. “Until it is decided, Ma’am.”
“Until what is decided, Igor Dolgov?”
Igor was confused. He waved a hand, taking in the interrogation room. “Why… all this!”
Suddenly he broke, face turning swiftly red: “All this! All! They want you to roast my ass! I know this! I’m not fooled!”
Then his shoulders fell and his voice dropped to a whisper as he continued, “They want to make me the scapegoat. Am I right?”
“Calm yourself, Dolgov,” Tanya said coldly. “You’re still an officer and not a young monk-girl caught in bed with a shepherd. So… Are you saying your suspension will end when my questioning is completed?”
Igor shook his head, hard. “No. I’m sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t being clear. When the blame is fairly fixed, then my suspension will be complete.”
He grinned harshly. “Of course, we both know where that blame is going to fall. I am the one responsible, no one else.”
Tanya shied away from the obvious next question. She didn’t want this young man to condemn himself from his own mouth. Perhaps he was ultimately responsible. But if a confession was forthcoming, she wanted it untainted by outside influences.
Instead she said, “You have been questioned before, correct?”
Igor flinched. Very unusual, Tanya thought.
“Yes,” he said. “I have, ma’am.”
“Who? Name them for the record.”
Igor started to protest. “But it is only natural my superiors would —”
“I didn’t ask what was natural, Lieutenant Dolgov,” she said. “It is not for one such as you to decide what Galactic Law deems proper or improper. I asked for names. Nothing more.”
Igor drew in a ragged breath, then answered. Listing his immediate superiors, all the way up the chain of command to Rear Admiral Amiriani. Then the names of the Borodino’s internal Incident Investigation Unit. And finally Daniel Carvaserin, the ship’s Chief Wizard.
It made quite a list and confirmed her concern that a quick confession from Dolgov would be tainted. After so many interrogation teams and individuals had gone at him, he’d be so dazed and confused he’d be willing to admit anything.
If she were investigating a ghastly sex murder on the other side of the galaxy, he might even confess to that.
Plus there was one other thing she sensed. Not in the list, but the delivery of that list. There’d been a slight hesitation when he’d ended. And he’d bitten his lip, as if to shut off further reply.
“Who else questioned you?” she demanded. “After Daniel Carvaserin, who else?”
He shook his head. “No one, ma’am. The wizard was the last.”
A red bulb winked on Angel.
“Why do you lie to me, Igor Dolgov?” she demanded. “You needn’t fear your superiors’ reactions. Your answers are private.
“And even so, it is forbidden by UWO law for you to be punished because you cooperated with us to the best of your ability.”
“I swear to you, Ma’am,” Igor said, eyes stark with fear. “No one else.”
His voice rose nearly to a shout, “I SWEAR IT!”
“Calm yourself, Lieutenant!” Tanya said once again. “You are not a child to make such an outburst!”
Shaking with emotion, Igor visibly strained to regain control. He said, voice quivering, “It is as I said, ma’am. The list of names you asked for is complete.”
“Very well, then,” Tanya said, as if accepting his statement. Even though the red light on Angel still indicated he was lying.
“We’ll move on to the incident. Describe it please. And leave out no detail, no matter how insignificant.”
She got what she asked for— a microbe by microbe account of what had happened from the moment Igor took his seat in the firing chair to the instant the missile impacted with HolidayOne. The information was delivered dully and by rote.
He’d either been coached, Tanya thought, or had gone over the same ground so many times he had it memorized. Probably a little of both, she decided.
Tanya only half-listened to him, relying on Angel to give her a thorough playback later, complete with a veracity report showing when he’d lied and when he’d told the truth.
Instead Tanya was concentrating on her surroundings. She’d caught the whiff of a strange spoor in the room. A dim presence picked up by her magical side that she hadn’t noticed before.
A spoor that until this moment had been obscured by the powerful magical scent of the wizard, Carvaserin.
It’s the missing interrogator, she thought. The one Dolgov was so frightened of that he wouldn’t speak his name.
She made a strong mental note of it, then went on. The unnamed man may or may not have anything to do with her investigation. However, this was also a mystery that could easily lead her down a false trail and away from her main objective.
But she must keep in mind the possibility that this mystery man might be the one ultimately responsible for the incident.
When Igor ended his recitation, she asked, “What about prior to the incident? What were you doing immediately before you were called to your station?”
Igor turned fiery red. He mumbled something she couldn’t hear.
“What was that, please? You must speak clearly for the record.”
“I was… uh… with someone, ma’am,” he said, still low, but loud enough to hear.
Angel winked green. He was telling the truth.
“Name her,” Tanya commanded, easily guessing it was a “she.”
Igor raised a hand. “She had nothing to do with it, ma’am. She played no part in the incident.”
Tanya merely stared at him. A moment later, he sagged. �
�I was with Katya, ma’am,” he admitted. “Katya Popova. She’s a junior cryptographer with the Headquarters Cryptographic Team.”
Tanya thought a moment. Popova was a very common Russian name. Putting that together with the young woman’s position— a junior cryptographer— she sensed a definite class difference between the two lovers.
She pressed a stud on Angel. Amiriani’s voice immediately blared through the unit’s small speakers. “Yes, Major Lawson?”
“I require the presence of Katya Popova. Sir,” she said in English.
After a moment of surprised silence, Amiriani said, “She’ll be with you presently, Major.”
Tanya clicked “off,” ostentatiously scribbled a note on her pad, then put the pen down. Igor was staring at her, eyes bulging slightly from worry. Although he hadn’t understood exactly what she’d said to Amiriani, he’d caught Katya’s name.
“Please, ma’am,” he said. “Katya is completely innocent. She knows nothing.”
Tanya merely raised an eyebrow at him, then picked up a document from her briefcase and pretended to find its contents extremely absorbing.
Other than to wring his hands, there was nothing Igor could do but wait.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Billy knew Davyd was on his way long before he reached the corridor.
He didn’t know Davyd’s name, of course, or who he was, but he had a damned good idea what he wanted. Which was more of the same old questions, questions, questions.
It made Billy mad. When would they get it through their stupid heads that he wasn’t going to answer any of their dumb questions?
Billy Ivanov had gone through many stages of severe emotion since he’d escaped the HolidayOne. First, he’d mourned his grandparents. Then Lupe.
Then the shock of the entire disaster had gushed through the haze of anesthesia the doctors had pumped into him while he was stabilizing in the intensive care ward.
The horror of what had happened and what he’d witnessed was almost too much for such a small boy.
He’d wept uncontrollably for hours. Then somehow he’d realized he was at some sort of brink and pulled back, retreating into anger at what had happened to the HolidayOne.
