by Pam Uphoff
Etli nodded and looked at Xiat and Izzo seriously. "For now, keep in mind that this fellow may have been rated as a Halfer, a drop, in his public assessment, but he isn't. He's probably been collecting power subconsciously for years. He ought to get some actual training, because with this many Prophets’ genes, he’s dangerous."
Xiat shook her head. "He's been well trained in usage. I'll bet he’s equally well trained in conscious power collection." She followed Izzo out to the elevator lobby.
He fished for another toothpick. "I’ll bet he trained in power storage and buildup as well. I think I need to go talk to Glue. If their father is a third son, or unregistered, or for some other reason unselected for the Priesthood, that could eliminate most of his possible identities. I’m pretty sure we’re wrong about the northern India ID, after all."
"Hopefully we can track down Endi's mystery visitor and get something solid. Now come on. This is the first time I've even been to one of these things as a guest. And I've never brought a date to a big party anywhere. I'm almost as scared of that as anything else." Xiat skittered around on high heels and eyed him nervously.
"I promise. No toothpicks. And if they get rude, I'll down shield and glow at them." He hastily discarded a splintery wreck.
"Not if they're women you damn well won't." She grabbed his elbow and towed him off. "I shouldn't have mixed work with pleasure. The analysis could have waited. Tomorrow I will tell you Rael's theory that he was sexually exploited as a pre-teenager and murdered the woman."
"One! I think you're using my police contacts, aren't you?"
"Hey, everyone knows that cops talk to cops."
They danced. He danced with her friends, he danced with the wives of colleagues. And tried to ignore all the pregnant glows. All those women danced with Endi. Paer danced with Endi, and one of the plainclothes guard princesses danced with him three times.
Chapter Thirty-one
Le Havre, European Region
10 Qadah 1396 YP
Inre hung well back as foot traffic thinned in this mostly warehouse district. Today he was following Heil. He'd taken to referring to her as the purple princess, in private, to irritate Ydro. She was toting what looked like a heavy load in a backpack and two bags. The 'stray dogs' that just happened to hover around the Knickknack shop were trotting along on either side of her, tails waving. She turned down an alley and he hustled to catch up. He shot a quick look around the corner. Empty. Damn. He jogged down . . . she couldn't have gone all the way. There had to be a door somewhere . . . He stepped back, tripped, cursed the big grinning mutt and fell through the side of the warehouse.
Onto thick grass. Of a large meadow. With small buildings and several alarmed looking people. A man in an unfamiliar uniform, jumping to his feet. There was a darkish circle hovering at ground level. A circle showing a grimy, familiar alley, fuzzy and glittery around the edges.
A gate. I just fell through a One damned gate! He scrambled to his feet.
The dog leaped through the gate and flattened him. It probably weighed fifty kilos. By the time he got his face out of the dirt, two men had him by the arms and Heil and three other women were looking at him. He felt the weight of their gazes. Of their magic. Eroding his shields. He whimpered a bit and reached deep inside for the One. For death. Their thoughts grabbed him and pulled him back.
The One wouldn't want him to die. The One would want information. The One would insist on him remaining alive and observing. He vaguely thought that these four had no business telling him what the One would want. Even if a small, shameful, part of himself was relieved to let go of that deeply buried death spell.
One of the unknown women stayed beside him while the others went away. In a few moments he was escorted to a nice big cage. He looked around uncertainly. He felt no compulsion to suicide, which was just wrong.
"Oh, but you need to learn all about us." The woman, girl, she couldn't be twenty, smiled. "I'm Crimson. We’re with the Department of Interdimensional Security and Cooperation. While you’re here, you should learn all about us. We’ll send you home eventually, and you can pass on all that information."
"You're spying on us!" He couldn't keep the indignant squeak out of his voice. This isn't supposed to happen. We're suppose to spy on other people. His eyes slid back to the circle of grimy alley sitting unsupported on the ground. And gates are supposed to involve a lot of machinery, personnel, electricity. They are closed as quickly as possible, to minimize the massive expense. He blinked at the gate as the sudden realization sank in. I really do need to stay alive. Observe everything. And then escape.
He looked back at the girl. "Department of . . ."
"Call us Disco. Or the D-cops. We’re from all over, and we try to prevent wars across the dimensions."
"Where are you from? Why aren’t you picking on Earth?"
"Me? I’m a witch from the world you call Target Forty-two. And Disco is studying Earth as well. Right now, the Empire of the One is the largest local threat."
Inre shifted the ground of the argument quickly. "Witch? That's not nice. We call our most powerful women princesses. They're the top of the heap. The pinnacle of power."
"Really? Princess! I like that. Tell me more."
Chapter Thirty-two
Paris, European Region
12 Qadah 1396 YP
"You're investigating Izzo?" Rael raised her eyebrows and studied Xiat.
"I don't . . . I need to know what he's up to. I . . . cloned his comp so I have data, but I don't know his reasons . . . Why does he have people watching those particular Fire and Swords fools? Why is he renting a house in Le Havre? He's fencing a whole lot. Working with a lot of beginners, youngsters, upcommers. These are not yet the actions of a man who is collecting more errand runners. But it surely does look like laying a foundation. Is he just an ambitious bureaucrat? Or will he turn to politics? Not someone to be ignored. And no. That is not an excuse to be around him. It's . . . the reason I'd better be One Damned cautious and alert. And not really fall for him. Not really. Oh. One. Hell!"
Rael sputtered and tried not to laugh. "Oh, the denial! Stop kidding yourself. I think you're scared, finding yourself in love, and looking for the hidden trap. Who convinced you that attachments have to be bad?"
"Life. How you doing with Endi?"
"Oh . . . " Rael stifled a curse. "Endi's business. And at least you have something to investigate. I have a . . . vacuum."
Xiat's turn to laugh. "Yeah, I can see you don't care a bit. Damn all men. I wonder what Izzo is doing right now?"
***
Izzo could almost see the man's thoughts bending around something he didn't want Izzo to find out about. Something that had even this egotistic moron feeling overwhelmed. It looked like the Fire and Sword society was about to overreach. Again.
Ojku ought not be gibbering over an extra large demonstration. It's not like his don't turn into riots often enough. And I ought not to be having so little trouble "reading" him. Oh, sure, lost virginity is supposed to give a young man a sudden boost, but a sixty-year-old? I always assumed I’d gained the same power gradually. How interesting. But not as interesting as Ojku’s mental gibbering. Lots of hesitation from my nasty little stooge.
"So, apart from being a discredit to Oners everywhere, what are you up to? Learning anything in college that might actually land you a job? Keep you so busy you stop being an annoyance?" Izzo smiled pleasantly. The coffee shop was outside Ojku's usual haunts, and too expensive for most students' budgets. It was as private as Izzo could get, without taking him to the police station, and that was much too likely to get noticed. Both by Ojku's people, and Izzo's superiors.
"I'm studying politics. I figure I can leverage my contacts into a plum job, and in a few years run for office."
"Well, you are about stupid enough to be a politician. You've got, what, another month of classes in the summer semester?"
The man's mind clamped down solid.
Doesn't like me focusing on
the next month, eh?
"Or is that two weeks of classes."
Beads of sweat on his forehead.
"And then two weeks of testing?"
Slight relaxation. "A week of tests. Then a break before the fall semester starts."
"Ah. Is that when you're planning your next rally?"
Glower. "No, everyone heads home, or for a beach somewhere."
"Unexpectedly sensible of them. I suggest you emulate at least the sensible part of that."
Izzo stayed cheerful as he paid the bill, and walked out with him. Handed him a card with nothing but a comm number on it. "Call me, if you hear anything interesting."
Izzo turned the opposite direction and walked away, whispered the key words to his strongest unnoticeable spell, turned around and followed him.
It took two hours, but the man finally wound up in a grubby warehouse. Izzo caught a quick glimpse through the door of parked cars, of metal barrels. He prowled around . . . windows painted over . . . a trail through a broken fence to a neighboring building's rear access, empty except for an industrial sized garbage tip . . . empty sacks the size and type animal feed was sold in . . . but wasn't Greenite a lawn care company? Oh surely they are not trying to make old fashioned explosives? He backed off two blocks and sought a deserted corner. He bit his lip, then called Detective Captain Ohse.
"Is a glimpse through a door enough for a search warrant? I mean, I don't actually have any idea what was in the metal barrels, nor what sort of Greenite product was in the bags . . . or even if the empty sacks are from the warehouse. But I've got a suspect who's sweating buckets every time I mention something around two weeks from now."
"That's pretty borderline, for evidence. I thought you had a law degree?"
"I do, but all my practical experience is ten years out of date and slanted toward Homestead's local practices. I haven't a clue which judge to go to. Ohse, what's going on in about two weeks that the Fire and Sword would target?"
"The Colonial Governors' Conclave. Fire and Sword always picket, always tries to stir up riots. Are they stupid enough to try something more aggressive? Give me the address, the names. And there's absolutely no bias in the courts. I am shocked you would think some judges more aggressive about crime than others. I'll go see if, ahem, a judge I just happen to have dealt with before will issue a search warrant."
The warehouse was packed with incendiaries, molotov cocktails, even some home made napalm. Remote triggering devices, attached to the already mixed up ANFO in boxes full of nails.
Detective Captain Ohse turned away from the local police chief. "We were incredibly lucky to have raided the warehouse while it was practically empty. Not that catching all of them with their hands dirty wouldn't have been convenient, but the chances of one of them setting something off would have been high."
Izzo looked around the warehouse and nodded. "And then it would have all gone up, suspects, cops and . . . well, I have no idea how far the damage would have extended."
"No doubt the explosives department will calculate that. So, shall we have a little talk with our two detainees?"
They walked over to the sullen Ojku
"So, planning something really nasty, were you? Perhaps protesting the Colonial Governor's meeting?" Izzo looked at the small pile of the man's belongings. Unfolded a sketch map. "Ah, their probable route from the airport to Government House. That would explain all the old cars you've got here. Were you going to park them here and there along the route? Well. I'm afraid you're going to miss the opportunity."
He got silence and a sullen glare in return. Izzo stepped back and let the Criminal Investigations Department start moving them out.
"I swear, I'll never call you analysts ‘wastes of the taxpayers funds’ again." Ohse was smiling, but there were strain lines around his eyes. "This could have been nasty."
"Well, I appreciate that, as a class, but don't go too far and apply that to every single individual."
Ohse's smile widened a bit as he turned back to the neatly stacked boxes. Izzo walked out of the warehouse, and down the street to his own car. His part of the work was done. This time. Now, how was he going to get another inside man? Unfortunately shutting down this operation just meant whoever had had this bright idea would shift and use one of the other little colleges to recruit some more willing idiots, and try something different.
Ydro was leaning on his car. "Any sign of Inre?"
"Nothing, nor any indication that he'd been in the warehouse. No unidentified bodies have shown up anywhere, that match his description."
Ydro flapped his arms in frustration, paced up a few car lengths, then returned. "One damn it all, he can’t have just disappeared."
Izzo bit his lip. "The only other possibilities are the Knickknack Gang and or a criminal gang working with them. We’ve got al Iadrah too damn busy to be worrying about a single agent. Stick with the K’s, but be damned alert and careful."
***
Inre had never studied the intricacies of seduction. On the job training, without even a manual. The three witches were Crimson, Kohl and Lemon. He'd gotten them to tell him all about their naming scheme, which, while it produced some serious mismatches, was at least pronounceable. Kohl and Lemon had rich brown hair and warm brown eyes. They looked enough alike to be hard to tell apart. Sisters, he bet. Crimson, a dark golden blonde, had insecurities all over, and a tendency to whine. Definitely their weak link.
His father had lectured him all about what was and wasn’t gentlemanly behavior. About how using magic in seduction, either through mental suggestions or, umm, stimulation of some nerves in, umm, sensitive areas . . . was absolutely Not To Be Done.
This was not the time to be a gentleman.
He slid his admiring glance up and down Crimson’s voluptuous length. She glowed, not as much as Heil, but more than enough to make him drool. "Ah, they're just girls. Ignore them. A real woman makes up her own mind." She looked skeptical. He’d just have to experiment in forbidden territory. Just a faint faint spell of sexual desire . . .
"All the men say you witches are dangerous, and you certainly got me under control in no time at all. Just as well you can't tempt me into doing something really dangerous." He ran a finger tip across her cheekbone. "One! You are gorgeous." He didn't have to fake that.
"They didn't have to make such a point of taking the key with them." She looked some combination of shamed and guilty.
Because she's tempted. He dared a tiny little nerve stimulus spell, directed down there. She started a bit, blushed.
Inre gave her his best try at bedroom eyes. And an even more subtle nerve tickle. "Oh, I don't know. It's kind of fun, kissing you through the bars. I figure I'll be safe from you until you make a copy of the key."
Her eyes went suddenly speculative.
***
Ydro scowled as he stomped down the street toward the Knickknack shop. Xiat had sent him a brief on their DNA results. Heil was a Withione, as he’d suspected. But not a trained Princess, apparently. Deep was a Halfer. Este didn't quite have a full set, so he was stuck as a Clostuone, despite having a higher number than all but the highest Neartuones. Kail and her brother, the celebrity horseboy Endi, had so many double copies of the Prophets' genes—two hundred and ten each—that the chance of their being Halfers was minimal. Oh sure, if there were a bunch of outcrosses enough generations back and random concentration of the Oner genes since then, and then a last cross with a High Oner, it was possible. But more likely there was some bad chemical exposure of their mother. So Endi lost the power genes, and Kail was a serious genetic abnormality, something wrong with her power genes, which probably explained her lack of sex appeal. She had a power glow, so maybe something was twisted and off putting or something.
Xiat’s note had included that they’d found no sign of a genetic engineering lab. And suggested that he look for any indication of biological reagents at the shop. Taking care to not open anything suspicious, she’d written.
That J
oy Juice wine, I shouldn’t have tasted it!
He stomped to a halt and looked up at the loft over the shop. The shop was shut for the day; he turned up the alley to the back door, and paused as he caught voices. The kitchen window, upstairs, was open.
"What we need is a steady source of funds." Deep’s voice.
"Hmm, I've been limiting the range of my dishonesty. I wonder what I could do in the way of cash cards?" Curious Kail, the monster.
"That's programming, again, same problem as with the blanks." Deep’s voice was truncated by the sound of running water. After a moment the noise ceased, and he could hear the women again.
". . . go back to analyzing the news, until Heil figures out the programming. I can’t get any corroboration about the draft starting up next year."
"The media is well controlled. Besides, the One won’t get drafted, so who cares?" Now Heil’s voice, gentle and ironic. "So, what was this Gate City like?"
"It is out in the middle of these plains where they grow grain using robotic machinery. Even the farmers won't live someplace so flat and featureless. It does not qualify as an exotic location." Thumping and clanging, as of dishes. No more voices.
Finally. Something that might be a break. Deep was the least well known of the three women. Cold and unapproachable. Sexier than the kid, but dangerous. Maybe she was the only criminal of the group, and the others would be found innocent. Ydro winced. Don't fool yourself. Don't get to liking the opposition. Este's already been implicated, Deep mentioned blanks, and Kail said she was limiting her dishonesty? You know Heil will be in it too. You will put Heil in prison. You will get over it.
Especially if they killed Inre.
And Kail’s been to Gate City? Why?
