by Timothy Zahn
Besides, Jack wasn't sure himself any more why he was doing this. "Because whatever's going on, Braxton is up to something underhanded," he said, settling for the easiest of the possible answers. "I don't think he should get away with it, that's all."
"An interesting story," the man said. Stirring, he stepped forward out of the shadow of the archway, and Jack got his first clear look at his face.
He was old, all right, maybe even fifty. His face had some lines and a few wrinkles, a lot of them set around his sparkling blue eyes. The white-streaked brown hair Jack had already noted was matched by a neatly trimmed white-speckled brown beard.
And like the voice, the face seemed oddly familiar. Jack frowned, trying to remember where he'd seen it before. The newssheets? Television? The VideoNets?
"There's only one small problem with it," the old man continued, still walking toward Jack.
Suddenly, like a crack of thunder in the back of Jack's head, it clicked.
And as it did, his whole theory of what was going on here shattered into a thousand pieces.
"Because, you see," the old man said, "I am Cornelius Braxton."
For a moment Jack couldn't speak, his mouth hanging open in stunned bewilderment. "Mr. Braxton," he managed at last. "But..."
"I see you do recognize me," Braxton said. "Now, do you wish to continue your story? Or shall I have Vance throw you out?"
Jack shook his head, trying to get his brain to stop spinning. What in the name of vacuum sealant was going on? "I'm sorry, Mr. Braxton," he said. "But I'm very confused here. That phony theft, the one I told you they first tried to frame me for? That was with a Braxton Universis cargo on Vagran."
"My cargoes travel all over the Orion Arm," Braxton reminded him. "You need more than that."
"And then they took me aboard a Braxton Universis ship," Jack said. "The Advocatus Diaboli. The guy aboard—"
He stopped as something flickered on the man's face. "The Advocatus Diaboli'?" Braxton repeated. "Are you sure?"
"Positive," Jack said. "My companion saw it and took down the name—"
"Blast it!" Boyle bit out. "Vance—cover them!"
Jack jumped, twisting to his right as he caught the sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. The guard was on his feet, his newssheet crumpled on the floor.
His gun pointed straight at Jack.
"Wait a second," Jack protested, his mouth suddenly dry. What had he said? "Look, Mr. Braxton—"
"Shut up!" Boyle snapped. "Lieutenant! Get in here! Quick!"
"You stupid fool," another familiar voice snarled from the side archway. "Do I have to do everything myself?"
Jack turned to look... and felt his breath catch in his throat.
It was Lieutenant Raven.
Chapter 23
Jack stared at Raven, his head spinning. No—this couldn't be happening.
"The Advocatus Diaboli, you say?" Braxton commented quietly.
With an effort, Jack tore his eyes away from Raven and looked back at Braxton. First Raven, and now Braxton, too. It was like one of those awful times back with Uncle Virgil and his friends when someone pulled a joke and everyone was in on it. Everyone, that is, except Jack. He would think something was happening, something important or dangerous or scary.
Then someone would laugh, and then everyone would laugh, and he'd realize they were all laughing at him.
He took a good look at Braxton's face. If this was a joke, Braxton wasn't in on it, either.
And no one in the room was laughing.
"Put your hands up, Mr. Braxton," Raven ordered, drawing his gun as he strode toward them across the room. "Blast it all, Boyle. Of all the flat-headed, idiotic—"
"But he knows," Boyle protested, jabbing a finger at Jack.
"He knows everything. The ship, Mr. Neverlin—"
"So he knows," Raven snapped, glaring at the secretary. "So you sit here and pick his story apart and pretend he's blowing smoke."
"But—"
"You blew it, Boyle," Raven cut him off. "You panicked and you blew it. Now we've got a real mess to clean up."
He stepped behind Braxton and stuck his gun into the older man's back. With his free hand he patted Braxton's clothes, searching for weapons. Jack watched him, feeling like he was going to be sick. He'd tried to do what was right; and instead he'd landed smack in the middle of an even bigger pit than he'd been in before.
Because there was no doubt that he, Jack Morgan, was the mess Raven was talking about cleaning up. Him, and maybe Braxton. Two of them, by themselves, against Raven and his men. It was just like the old days, with him and Uncle Virgil going up against the cops or the system or even other criminals.
Only this time it was him and Cornelius Braxton. At least Uncle Virgil had known what he was doing in a con or a fight or a slink. You could count on him to have a trick or two up his sleeve.
But Braxton wasn't Uncle Virgil. He was old, and he was way out of his element here. He probably hadn't had a fight outside a corporate boardroom in thirty years. Jack's skin began to crawl with the thought.
He frowned in sudden realization. No; that wasn't his skin crawling.
It was Draycos.
In the flick of an eye his mood and his fear and all the old memories vanished away. Yes, it was like the old days, all right. Only this time it was Jack who had the trick up his sleeve.
Whatever Raven had in mind, Jack would bet heavy odds that it didn't include the possibility of a K'da poet-warrior joining the game.
He reached up and squeezed his shoulder, hoping Draycos would take the hint and stay put for now. Part of the reason Uncle Virgil had never been thrown in prison, he knew, was that the cops had never been able to gather enough evidence against him.
Before he turned his pet K'da loose on this gang, maybe he could get Raven to brag a little.
He looked back at Braxton. "So who's Mr. Neverlin?" he asked casually.
Raven threw a frown at Jack over Braxton's shoulder. "You're pretty calm," he said suspiciously. "You counting on your uncle to pull you out of this?"
"One of the benefits of a clear conscience," Jack assured him. "And, of course, the fact that I still have the cylinder."
Raven snorted. "Dream on, kid. Now that the plan has gone down in flames, I don't need it anymore."
"Oh," Jack said. "Well... in that case, would you mind telling me what the plan was?"
"Watch them," Raven ordered Boyle and Vance, stepping away from Braxton and heading back to the archway. "I'll be back in a minute."
"I think I can fill in the blanks, Mr. Morgan," Braxton said calmly. He might be old, Jack realized, but he was a long way from being out of his element. His face was clear and thoughtful, his eyes taking everything in. "The Advocatus Diaboli is assigned to the chairman of my board, Arthur Neverlin. I would say that he's decided he wants to run the whole company by himself."
"He already seems to be running some of your people," Jack said, inclining his head toward Boyle. "Where does the cylinder fit in?"
"It contains DNA samples taken from my wife and me when we were twenty," Braxton explained. "Every few years we take a month-long cruise like this, go to a clinic on Parsonia, and take rejuvenation treatments. The DNA is part of it."
He smiled. "I'm actually considerably older than I look."
"Ah," Jack said, nodding. The man must be ancient, then. "Must be something in the duplicate that'll kill you."
"No doubt," Braxton agreed. "But subtly, of course. Always very subtle, our Mr. Neverlin."
Jack looked around. "So where is your wife?"
"She's out walking on the promenade level." Braxton looked thoughtfully at Boyle. "I wonder if her guards are in on this, too."
Jack looked at Boyle, too. The man was standing silently, but his throat was working up and down. "Offhand, I'd say they aren't," he told Braxton.
"You shut up," Boyle snapped, clenching his teeth in Jack's direction. "You we don't have to find a clever way of getting rid of."
>
"Cork it, Boyle," Raven growled from across the room as he strode back in under the archway. With him was another guard. "Okay, Myers and I have a plan."
"Hope this one works better than the last one did," Jack murmured.
"I could just let Boyle take you off somewhere, you know," Raven said pointedly. "It wouldn't be nearly as painless a way to go."
"Never mind him," Boyle said. "What are we going to do about Mrs. Braxton? She could be back any minute."
"Forget her," Raven said. "She'll keep. What we have to do now is make Braxton disappear."
"What, here on the ship?" Boyle demanded. "Are you nuts?"
"Relax," Raven told him. "We're docking with Shotti Station in five hours for cargo pickup. If we can keep up the pretense that he's aboard until then, we can make it look like he got off there."
"And what exactly would I be doing at Shotti Station?" Braxton asked mildly.
Raven smiled tightly. "Meeting a special courier from Mr. Neverlin, of course."
"Ah," Braxton said. "And you already have this set up with him?"
"No," Raven said. "But we'll have plenty of time afterward to work out those details."
"After what?" Jack asked.
"After you two take a swim out the airlock," Raven said bluntly.
"An airlock?" Braxton said, lifting his eyebrows politely. "Really. That should be interesting."
"Don't get your hopes up," Raven warned, jerking his head toward the new guard. "Myers found a cargo lock that isn't guarded or watched. Bay AA-3. Should be nice and quiet."
"And you expect us to meekly walk in there?" Braxton asked. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," Raven nodded. "Because if you try to warn or alert anyone along the way, we'll kill them too. You don't want to go to your death with someone else's life on your conscience, do you?"
Braxton didn't answer. But his face seemed to sag, just a little. "I didn't think so," Raven said, shifting his gaze to Jack. "How about you?"
"Oh, I'll cooperate," Jack said. "But I think there's something else you've forgotten."
"Who, your uncle?" Raven said with a sniff. "Don't flatter yourself. I met Virgil Morgan once. He's not going to stick his neck into trouble for you. Either of you."
He pointed a finger at Jack. "But don't take it personally. After we're finished with you, we'll track him down."
Jack pursed his lips. "I wish you luck," he said. "He won't be easy to find."
"We'll find him," Raven promised. "Trust me."
He drew his gun from its holster and slipped it and his hand into the side pocket of his coat. "Boyle, you stay here and deal with the wife when she comes back. Nothing fancy—tell her he's gone for a stroll. Vance, Myers, you're coming with us."
He gestured toward the door. "Mr. Braxton? After you."
Chapter 24
With Vance in the lead, Braxton, Jack, and Raven behind him, and Myers bringing up the rear, they headed out.
The two guards Jack had run into earlier were still on the job, and they stepped out of their rooms as the parade came by. Jack held his breath; but Braxton merely waved them back to their posts. Jack looked at their faces as he passed, but there was no suspicion there that he could see.
They might be suspicious later, of course. But by then it would be too late. Or so Raven probably hoped, anyway.
He might be right, too. True, Jack still had Draycos hidden away. But even under ideal conditions it would still be three armed men against a single unarmed K'da.
And the conditions here were anything but ideal. Raven walked close behind Braxton and Jack as they made their way along, his gun pressing through his coat into Braxton's back whenever someone came close. Draycos could easily take him out, probably before the man even knew what had hit him.
But Vance and Myers were keeping their distance. No matter how fast he was, the dragon could never get to both of them before the shooting started.
The group was soon out of the high-class living section and into the Star of Wonders main eating and entertainment area. More and more people were milling around here, and Jack waited expectantly for Vance and Myers to close the gap between them. Surely they would want to prevent any chance of Braxton or Jack darting off and losing themselves in the crowds.
But they still kept their distance. It was almost as if they were expecting an attack... and it wasn't until the group had passed the central elevator bank that Jack suddenly realized that that was exactly what they were expecting. Not from a hidden K'da warrior, of course, but from Uncle Virgil.
Back in Braxton's suite, dropping all those vague hints and threats had seemed like a clever thing to do. Now, Jack wasn't so sure about that.
"We'll be passing the casino soon," Braxton murmured from beside him. "That may be your best hope."
For a couple of steps Jack was strongly tempted. Raven's gun was stuck in Braxton's back, after all, not his. If he could make it into the casino, there were all those game tables and chance machines for him to duck and dodge among. There were bound to be security people on duty there, too.
But there were still Vance and Myers to think about. Braxton didn't seem the type to hire bodyguards who couldn't shoot straight. "Thanks for the offer," he murmured back. "But I think I'll stick it out."
"They're going to kill me, Jack," Braxton reminded him. "As Raven said, I really don't want to die with other lives on my conscience."
Jack frowned sideways at him. Braxton's face was set in hard lines; but at the same time Jack could tell that the man meant it.
It seemed a far cry from the hard, cold, merciless industrial giant that everyone thought of when Cornelius Braxton's name was mentioned. Maybe Braxton was rearranging his way of thinking now that he could see his own death approaching.
Or maybe the public image wasn't what the man was really like at all.
"It's okay," he told Braxton. "And don't give up hope. Not yet."
Braxton glanced around. "All right," he said. "If you say so."
"Over here," Raven said, taking Braxton's shoulder and guiding him into a right-hand turn. They went through a door with the now familiar—at least to Jack—Authorized Personnel Only sign on it. A short corridor away, they reached a large elevator door.
"Say good-bye to civilization," Raven advised as the elevator doors slid open. "Next stop'll be the cargo section."
Jack had held out some hope that in the confined space of an elevator car Draycos would finally have a chance to act. But accidentally or otherwise, Raven had neatly squashed that one. The car he ushered them into wasn't one of the regular passenger elevators, but instead a cargo lift. It was nearly the size of Jack's stateroom, and Vance and Myers went immediately to opposite corners.
Raven stepped well back, too. Now that secrecy wasn't important anymore, all three men drew their guns out of hiding. Myers touched the button, and the car started down.
"Jack?" a voice murmured in Jack's right ear.
Jack measured the distances with his eyes. Too far. Besides, there was no cover anywhere for him and Braxton to duck behind when the shooting started. "Not here," he murmured back, keeping his lips motionless.
"We are running out of time," Draycos pointed out.
"Don't you think I know that?" Jack retorted quietly. "It just won't work in here."
"Hey," Myers said, jabbing his gun toward Jack. "Did anyone think to check this clown for a comm clip?"
"Harper ran him," Raven told him. "He was clean."
"Then who's he talking to?" Myers demanded. "Maybe I ought to do a little more thorough search, if you know what I mean."
"He was talking to me," Braxton spoke up. "Is that a problem?"
"What about?" Myers asked.
"None of your business," Braxton said calmly. "Most condemned men are allowed a last meal. You should at least be gracious enough to allow us a last conversation."
"Yeah?" Myers growled, starting forward. "Maybe we're not feeling gracious today, huh?"
"It's all ri
ght, Myers," Raven said, waving the other back. "Let them talk."
Myers glared some more, but he returned to his corner without argument. "Thanks," Jack murmured to Braxton.
Braxton nodded, his eyes on Raven. "You know, Mr. Raven, there's no reason you have to kill our young friend here," he commented. "There are several techniques that can be used to block his memories of this entire trip."
"Sorry," Raven said, shaking his head. "I know all about those techniques. I don't trust any of them."
"I could make it worth your while," Braxton offered.
Raven grinned evilly. "Thanks, but I think Mr. Neverlin already has enough of the pie to outbid you. He sure will after today."
"This is an account Neverlin doesn't know about," Braxton persisted. "One he'll never find on his own. A little extra money never hurt anyone."
"A little extra loose end can hurt plenty," Raven retorted. "Now shut up."
Braxton looked at the other two. "Myers? Vance? Either of you interested?"
"I said shut up!" Raven snarled, gesturing with his gun. "Or I'll drop you right here."
Braxton gave up. The rest of the elevator ride was made in silence.
The doors opened onto a corridor that was clearly one of the ship's working areas. No fancy carvings or carpeting or even textured wall coverings here. Everything was plain synth-wall and scuffless flooring, with wires and conduits running in plain sight along the ceilings.
It was better than a lot of places Jack had been in. Still, coming from the fancier parts of the liner, it seemed shockingly bleak and shabby. A very depressing place to have to die in.
Raven was obviously thinking the same thing. "Sorry about the decor," he said as Vance led them around a corner into a cross-corridor. "I would have ordered flowers, only you weren't supposed to go down for another couple of weeks."
"You didn't get any flowers for those Wistawki, either," Jack murmured. If he was going to get Raven to confess to the murders, this was the time for it. "The ones you shot on Vagran. You didn't seem to care at all about them, in fact."
Raven snorted. "What, get misty-eyed over a bunch of dumb animals? Who cares if a couple of them get shot?"
