“I had to take the stone out first so I could get rid of the tracker,” he explained. “The capsule containin’ the venom was trickier. Bastard was spring-loaded, and I wasn’t sure how to get it off without releasin’ the trap. Took me most of the night, but I finally stuck a thin strip of metal behind the setting and just cut the fucker off.”
“Miri’s all right?”
“She’s fine. Scared the shit out of her though.”
No kidding. Scared the shit out of me just hearing about it.
“So,” asked Jak. “How’s Sendren?”
“On his way to hell as we speak.” I took out the money and tossed it on the table. “This is for Miri. Sendren left it to her in his will.”
Kyr closed her eyes. “Thank you, Gage.”
“My pleasure,” I said with a small smile.
“I’ve spoken to my contact,” she said. “He believes he has something that will be of interest to you. He’s gone to considerable trouble to obtain it and there were substantial risks involved. If he’s caught, his employment will be terminated. He could face arrest and imprisonment.”
“How much does he want?”
“He demands fifty thousand credits.”
I almost choked. For that much, he’d better include the key to Delaren’s front door.
“Fine, whatever. Can you make arrangements to meet with him again tonight?”
Kyr nodded. “I believe so.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your help.”
Kyr smiled. “A favor for a favor. That was our deal, yes?”
A favor for a favor.
Maybe now I’d find out where Delaren was hiding his wife, and bring myself one step closer to Corin Raas.
◆◆◆
Kyr and I sat at a small table at an outdoor restaurant in the Government District. Her contact turned out to be a minor level bureaucrat in the Finance Ministry. A small, fidgety man with pale orange eyes and a balding head, he had an annoying habit of tapping his fingers on the table.
“I have made a number of discreet inquiries regarding the president’s marital status,” he muttered. “Because of Master Delaren’s position, the records in question are highly classified. I have been able to discover no evidence of a Rigian marriage certificate having been issued to Vance Delaren at any time during the past seven or eight years. Of course, that does not mean one does not exist; only that evidence of it has been deleted. I did discover record of a young Androsian woman naming him her sponsor when she applied for her permanent resident visa.”
A surge of excitement swept through me. “Her name?”
“The name on the file is Brendwyn Jalassaa.”
Brendwyn. Wynn could be short for that.
He hesitated. “During the course of my inquiries, I also discovered something else that may be of interest to you.”
“What’s that?”
“I ran a routine check of President Delaren’s financial records. It seems that over the past six years a rather substantial sum has passed from one of his personal accounts to a numbered account at a financial institution in the Rhysian system. The actual transaction amounts have been relatively minor, but the accumulated total is in excess of two hundred and thirty thousand credits.”
Now, that was interesting.
“Can you find out who the Rhysian account belongs to?”
The man shifted in his chair. “Possibly. It will take time and involve considerable risk on my part....”
“How much?”
He coughed. “An additional fifty thousand credits.”
The price bordered on extortionate, as valuable as the information could turn out to be. The prissy little bastard was lucky I didn’t kill him where he sat. I swallowed my irritation. I’d just have to make another trip to the money tree. “All right.”
“I will contact Kyr when I have the information.”
“This Brendwyn Jalassaa,” I said. “I don’t suppose you know where she is now?”
“There is a current address for her on file with the Ministry of Immigration.”
“If you’re talking about the Iron District, she’s no longer there.”
The man shook his head. “The address I have is less than three months old.”
“Do you have it with you?”
He took a folded scrap of paper from his breast pocket, turning it over in his fingers. “And my money?”
I slid the envelope across the table. He scooped it up, peering inside before passing me the paper. I read the address then passed the paper to Kyr.
“This is in the university district,” she said.
Delaren had taught at the university before running for president. “Can you take me there?”
Kyr grinned. “And deny Jak the pleasure of taking you there himself?”
The man tucked the envelope into his breast pocket and stood up. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you.”
I watched him disappear into the busy street.
You’re costing me a lot of money, little man. You’d better not fuck me up.
Chapter 20
I sat on a ratty couch in the upper level of the warehouse, staring at the address I’d purchased from Kyr’s contact. Trying to work out what would happen next. I’d gone over my memories of that night in the Androsian jungle a hundred times and managed to form a vague picture of what I believe happened, but there were still huge question marks.
I turned the memory fragments over in my head, putting the puzzle together one piece at a time.
An informant had been at work within Delta Six for almost a year before I arrived at Lachra. They’d fed information on troop movements to the rebels, allowing them to stay one step ahead of us.
Somehow, Corin Raas ends up at the Ansaala refugee camp. The Androsians find out she’s there and ask the GSF to send us in to apprehend her. The informant tells her we’re coming, and she runs. Kenny and his militia stay at the camp while I take Delta Six into the bush looking for her, we get bogged down in the jungle and return to find the camp on fire and everyone dead.
Lachra gives us the order to withdraw. When we reach the evac site, we’re fired on, and Delta Six is eliminated in a running gun battle through the jungle. Kenny and I are the only survivors.
It had taken us almost a month to reach Lachra, and Corin Raas had still been a fugitive then. According to Antonio Briani, the GSF had sealed all the ports trying to prevent her escape. The informant had given her a pretty good head start, but even so, the port at Lachra had been closed, and she’d run with only the clothes on her back. She would have been without money or papers.
How had she gotten off the planet?
And who had given the order to fire on us?
I’d spent years believing it was Lansing, but the more I thought about it now, the less likely it seemed. He admitted himself he hadn’t had that kind of authority, but if not him—then who?
I’d promised the men and women in my patrol I’d find out why they died, and Corin Raas could give me those reasons. Would I be satisfied with her explanation, assuming she gave me one? And what would I do when all the promises had been kept and my ghosts were all sleeping peacefully? Go back to killing people for a living?
I couldn’t think about after. Those thoughts took me dangerously close to my feelings for Joanna, and I wasn’t ready to go there yet.
Besides, if things went south there would be no ‘after’.
I looked at the address again.
The University District.
◆◆◆
“So what did she do, this Corin Raas?” asked Jak as he led me toward the university just before dusk.
“It’s a long story.”
“Are you gonna kill her?”
“Maybe. Eventually. But not tonight.”
Stately granite buildings sat along the quiet boulevards that made up Dasrajhi’s University District, signs and plaques declaring which faculty they housed. Jak stopped across from a two-story building constructed of white sandst
one. Lights burned in the windows and women hovered on the front step or moved in and out of the glazed front door. It didn’t look like a faculty building, the atmosphere was too relaxed. It looked more like a dorm or sorority house.
Was Corin Raas still calling herself Wynn Delaren, or had she changed her name to something else? The address didn’t include a room number—which of those twenty or thirty rooms was hers? I watched the house from the alley for a while, silently praying a hover-cab or limo would pull up with her in it.
Right. I could be so lucky.
After an hour or so the women on the porch headed inside and the light above the door went out, plunging the steps and front yard into darkness. One by one the lights in the upstairs windows winked out.
I nudged Jak with my foot, he crouched next to me in the darkness. “Let’s go. I need to make some plans.”
◆◆◆
Kyr and I met with the same fidgety little man at the same outdoor restaurant. He was as nervous as ever, his eyes flitting along the busy street before coming to rest on me again. He made me jumpy just watching him, I couldn’t decide if he was naturally anxious, or if I had something to seriously worry about.
“I have the additional information you requested,” he said. “The financial trail was difficult to follow, but I believe I have uncovered the primary account holder.”
“And that is?”
“The Rhysian account is registered to an organization called The Androsian Freedom Coalition. Unfortunately, I do not have the required authorization to request information regarding the purpose of their organization, and to inquire further would raise unwelcome questions.”
It didn’t matter, I was pretty sure I knew.
I passed him the envelope containing his money. “Thanks. I appreciate your help.”
He scooped up the envelope, slipping it into his pocket. “There is nothing else you require?”
I fucking hope not, you extortionate little puke—I can’t afford anything else.
I shook my head, and he left the table, melting into the crowded street.
The Androsian Freedom Coalition. A respectable name for what was essentially a terrorist organization. Did Vance know his wife continued to support her rebel friends with his money?
If I hadn’t known the whole story, I wouldn’t give a second thought to Wynn Delaren sending them money. After all, she was Androsian, and the Coalition sounded like a respectable enough group. Their name was sufficiently ambiguous that no one would suspect they were a front for the Chakar resistance. Corin may have escaped to start a new life, but she still paid for the old one back on Andros Prime.
It was time for a little reconnaissance. All I knew for sure was that Wynn/Corin lived at that dorm in the university district. I had no idea if or how often Vance saw her, and if he saw her there or took her someplace else. Did he pick her up himself or send one of his peons? I’d have to stake the place out to know for sure. I needed a vehicle; camping out in front of the dorm would be much easier if I was mobile—besides, I couldn’t very well pitch a tent across the street and hope to go unnoticed.
My rental was back at the hotel, but with the Guilds still looking for me, I couldn’t go back and get it. The only other option was for Jak to steal me a vehicle, something he apparently had no problem with when asked. The car he boosted turned out to be older than him, but at least it ran. He didn’t say it, but I knew he wanted to come with me on my little mission. He seemed to think we were some kind of team, but as much as I liked the little shit and appreciated his resourcefulness, I had no idea how this would end. For all I knew, I’d be dead by morning. He crouched sullenly on the warehouse loading dock as I pulled away just after dusk. He didn’t wave, just watched me drive off.
I had no idea how long it would be before Delaren summoned his wife. I waited on the opposite side of the street, settling in for the duration. The hours passed slowly as I kept my eye on the house and street. The way my luck ran lately Delaren probably only saw his wife once a month.
It was almost sunset on day nine when the hover-car approached from up the street. The driver entered the house, emerging a few minutes later with Corin Raas. He helped her into the back seat then returned to the driver’s side and the car pulled away. I waited for it to drive past then followed it, keeping at least two or three vehicles between us.
Once out of the university district the car moved through the congested Dasrajhi streets, weaving in and out of traffic. It turned onto the off-ramp leading to the government district, finally arriving at the gates of the People’s Palace. The car paused, the driver flashing a badge at the security camera mounted above the gate. I continued past as it swung open, and the car pulled into the drive. I’d have to find my own way in.
I turned the headlights off, following the street as it wound in a roughly circular orbit around the president’s official residence. Constructed of decorative stone, the outer wall was topped with wrought iron spikes that were more ornamental than secure. I pulled over and got out of the car, sweeping the scanner left and right along the wall. There were no sentries nearby, they were probably all congregated at the front of the residence, closer to the main gate. Idiots. Delaren seriously needed to overhaul his security measures. The wall was too long to effectively secure with a force-field. If I was going over, now would be the time.
I slipped the scanner into my pocket and jumped up, grabbing the spikes, hauling myself up and over the wall, dropping to the other side.
The presidential palace stood about a hundred yards to my left. Lights burned in several of the lower windows: the offices of bureaucrats working late. I stayed to the shadows nearest the wall, skirting the patches of light. Security tightened the closer I got to the house and I had to dodge one pair of armed sentries and outwait another as I made my way around the back to where the grounds sloped gently, ending at the edge of a small creek. Stunted trees and flowering shrubs grew almost to the water’s edge.
I crouched in the shrubbery as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. A flagstone terrace reached part way into the back garden. My eyes scanned the house. A few lights burned in the upper windows, but the lower windows were dark. Insects buzzed and chirped, and a warm breeze carried the scent of cooling sand and the perfume of the desert flowers filling the stone planters at the edge of the terrace. The room beyond the glazed terrace doors were dark.
According to my scanner, it was empty.
I crept cautiously forward, keeping my eyes peeled for more sentries—I couldn’t afford to kill them, at least not on my way in, the disturbance it would cause wasn’t worth it. I’d have to avoid them if possible and only kill them if they made it necessary.
The terrace doors were locked and an amber warning light blinked on my scanner screen. An alarm.
I ran the scanner over the door, following the circuit to its source, embedded in the frame. I put the scanner away and drew out Jak’s force field neutralizer, praying it worked on alarm circuits too. Holding it over the circuit, I turned the knob. There came a brief spark, and the warning light blinked out.
I made a mental note to thank Jak again for his mechanical aptitude and broke one of the glass panels in the door, unlatching it and slipping inside.
Heavy, ornate furniture sat on a carpeted floor, and the air smelled of furniture polish and dusty velvet. My nose tickled and I suppressed the urge to sneeze—Christ, how long had it been since they’d used this room anyway? I opened the white double doors a crack and peered into an empty foyer.
Voices carried to me from the small anteroom to the right of the sweeping marble staircase. What the fuck?
I shook the scanner, smacking it a few times. Two green dots flickered to life in what had previously been a dark spot on the screen.
I cursed inwardly. Note to self: Remember to kick the shit out of one asshole Rigian junk dealer, right before you cram this piece of crap scanner up his fucking ass.
I slipped silently past the anteroom and up the stairs to the secon
d floor. Voices and footsteps approached from the bottom of the stairs and I dived into the nearest room, praying it was empty as a liveried servant appeared carrying a covered tray. The guy with him was one of Delaren’s. I’d recognize Rolan’s scarred face anywhere.
They passed by and the servant knocked on a door at the end of the hall. Delaren opened it, taking the tray.
There we go.
He and Rolan spoke briefly, then Rolan shrugged, and he and the servant made their way back to the staircase. Apparently Delaren had given his head goon the rest of the night off. He obviously planned on having his wife stay the night and didn’t want the help snickering about the moans of passion filtering through the door at three in the morning.
My current hiding place wasn’t much bigger than a closet, but I was safe enough where I was for now, and Corin Raas waited for me at the end of the hall. I could be patient a little while longer. After all the drama and bullshit, it felt strange to think that soon it would all be over.
An hour passed. Then another. The atmosphere in the house changed as evening settled into night and a silent calm descended. I waited one more hour, then stepped into the empty hallway.
The overhead lights had been dimmed, and the sliver of foyer at the bottom of the stairs was dark. I glanced toward the door at the end of the corridor. The scanner told me there were only two people inside, but that didn’t mean much considering it was a piece of techno-shit. I shook it hard five or six times. No additional blips or dots appeared. I hoped, prayed, there really were only two in that room, otherwise things were going to get very messy very fast. I reached for the door handle, turning it slowly.
It was unlocked and I sighed inwardly. Seriously people. Repeat after me: Security! How the hell had Delaren survived this long? What had happened to the paranoid president elect whose wife was never left unguarded? I slipped into the room, locking the door behind me.
He and Wynn stood on the balcony. He had his arm around her and they spoke quietly. A com-link sat on a long, decorative sideboard next to the tray containing the remains of their dinner—I shot it out in a shower of sparks. The noise caused them to turn. The president paled when he saw me, moving to stand in front of his wife, shielding her with his body.
Hunter Page 24
