by Timothy Zahn
The boy. Mentally, Bailey shook his head, his mind flashing back to that fever dream Poirot had spun for them back in the conference room about Aegis Mountain and weapons caches and secret military forces. Whatever this Phoenix was that Reger and Silcox had created, it wasn't even close to being an army, and all the weapons and blackcollars in the world wouldn't change that. This kid, in particular, was barely even out of college—
"Colonel!"
"Yes, I'm listening," Bailey growled, feeling his face warm with embarrassment as he angrily shook the random thoughts away. Fatigue always made his mind drift that way. "What is it?"
"I think you'll want to hear this for yourself, sir," the interrogator said, sitting upright and gesturing to the chair at the other side of the bed.
Frowning, Bailey sat down. The kid's eyes were closed, his breathing slow but steady. "Go ahead," he told the interrogator.
The other nodded. "Rob?" he called softly. "Rob? You need to tell our other friend here what you just told me."
For a moment the kid didn't move. Then, his head turned slightly, his eyes reluctantly opening to slits. "She knows," he murmured. "She knows the way inside."
Something with cold feet took a walk up Bailey's spine. "Who knows the way?" he asked, leaning close to the boy.
"Anne," Rob said. "Anne does."
"Anne Silcox?"
"Yes," the boy said. "They told her. You know. The blackcollars."
Bailey looked up at the interrogator. "Ask him the way into what," the other suggested quietly.
Bailey looked back at the injured prisoner. "What place does Anne know the way into?"
"You know," Rob said, his voice almost too soft to be heard. "Aegis Mountain."
Bailey's mouth was suddenly very dry. Could Poirot have been right after all? "Do you know the way in?" he asked.
"No," Rob said. "Just Anne. And the blackcollars."
Bailey locked eyes with the interrogator. "This had better be straight," he warned.
"It is," the interrogator assured him. "I never prompted him."
Bailey looked back down at the half-sleeping kid. So there was a way in after all, a way the blackcollars had apparently found.
And at this very moment, across town, General Poirot was working with the tactical group who were trying to come up with a plan to capture one or more of those same blackcollars. Coincidence?
Abruptly, Bailey got to his feet. "Keep at him," he told the interrogator as he snagged his coat from the hook. "Find out everything he knows, and I mean everything. I'll send over a couple more men to assist."
"You don't need to do that, sir," the other assured him. "I can handle it."
Bailey gazed at him, an unpleasant tingle whispering through him. Whiplash ... "I'll send a couple more men to assist," he repeated, his tone making it an order. "And you aren't to breathe a word of any of this to anyone but them and me. Clear?"
The interrogator's lips compressed. "Yes, sir."
Three minutes later Bailey was in his car, heading through the silent Athena streets toward the Security building. Yes, Poirot had been right about Phoenix and Aegis Mountain. The question now was, how had he managed to be so right?
More to the immediate point, did this wonderful revelation come with hidden strings attached?
He didn't know. But he was damn well going to find out.
CHAPTER 13
It was still dark when Jensen's mental alarm clock went off. Four o'clock in the morning, or near enough.
Time to go.
For a minute he lay still on the hard ground, listening to the night sounds around him playing counterpoint to Toby's slow, even breathing. The man was asleep, with the deep oblivion of a man who'd spent a couple of hours the evening before tromping through unbroken wilderness on a bad leg.
In a way, he hated to leave the old man out here alone. Unlike the Plinry blackcollars, it didn't look like Toby had been getting the periodic low-level Idunine doses that had kept their muscles and organs young while letting their outer appearances age normally. It had been a long, hard trek, and it would be an equally hard trek back to his cabin.
But where Jensen was going, he was going alone. Carefully, wincing as his ribs flared in protest, he rolled halfway over and started to get to his feet.
"Going somewhere?" Toby asked mildly.
Jensen frowned toward the dark lump a couple of meters away. He would have sworn the other was asleep. "Thought I'd see if I could find a place that was open for breakfast," he said.
"You've found it," Toby said, sitting up. "This bush right here's the best place in the Rockies. Here—special of the day."
He held something out; a ration bar, Jensen discovered as he took it. "You're a pretty light sleeper," he commented as he tore off the end of the wrapper.
"So are you," Toby said. "Luckily for me, you're also very predictable."
"In what way?"
"For starters, this little attempt to ditch me," Toby said. "That was what you were intending, wasn't it?"
Jensen grimaced. "I appreciate all your help, Toby," he said. "But where I'm going it isn't safe for you to go."
"Why not?" Toby countered. "Didn't you and the other blackcollars close down what was left of Aegis's defenses the last time you were in there?"
So there it was, out in the open at last. "Very good," he said. "Where did you hide your telescope? I never saw it in your cabin."
"I packed it away in a rotten log after I sent Adamson and Trapper out to look for you," Toby replied. "You're good, too. I didn't realize you'd spotted me."
"I caught a couple of glints from the lens," Jensen said. "So what do you want?"
"The same thing you do," Toby said. "I want into Aegis Mountain."
Jensen shook his head. "Sorry."
"If I don't go, neither do you," Toby warned.
"Is that a threat?" Jensen asked, wishing it was light enough for him to see whether or not the other was holding his pistol.
"It's a statement of fact," Toby said. "I'm guessing that whatever you want in there is going to involve at least a little bit of heavy lifting. There's no way you're going to do any of that, not with your ribs the way they are."
"And you're not going to make it with your leg the way it is," Jensen countered. "There's a lot of walking and climbing involved."
"I'll make it," Toby said firmly. "And not to push, but this is a limited-time deal. Eventually, Security's going to get around to analyzing the pylon team's IR data and come out here for another look. The only place we can go where they won't spot us is inside the base."
"Alternatively, that's exactly what they're hoping I'll think," Jensen countered. "Maybe the plan is for you to talk me into showing you the way in."
"And then what?" Toby scoffed. "I overpower you with my bare hands and call them in?"
"You have a gun," Jensen reminded him.
Toby snorted. "And I'm supposed to threaten a blackcollar with a gun? That's hardly the way I want to die."
"How do you want to die?"
"Not that way," Toby said, a sudden oddness to his voice. "So are we going? Or would you rather be sitting here arguing about it when Security flies in to pick us up?"
Jensen grimaced as he gazed at the other's silhouette in the starlight. Toby was right, he had to admit—with his ribs in the shape they were he wasn't going to accomplish much alone. But there were still an awful lot of question marks swirling around the old hermit.
On the other hand, Toby was also right about Security coming out for a second look ... and after personally sampling their torture methods on Argent, he knew he would eventually break down and show them the secret entrance.
And he was damned if he was going to lose by default. "All right," he said reluctantly. "But you're going to have to get me to the right area. I have no idea where we are."
"We're not too far," Toby assured him, using a tree branch to help himself to his feet. "I figured we might as well head that direction to start with."
&n
bsp; "Yeah, I sort of figured that," Jensen said, pushing himself off the ground.
"Here." Toby offered a hand.
Jensen gripped it, and together they got him upright. "Thanks," he said, pausing while the stabbing pain in his side settled back down to a dull ache. "Did you want to eat something before we go?"
"I can eat along the way." Toby hesitated. "And if it would make you feel better about me, I can give you my gun."
"No, that's okay," Jensen said, waving away the offer. "Ribs or no ribs, if I can't take care of a single old codger with a gun, I probably deserve to get shot."
"You have no idea how comforting a thought that is, too," Toby said dryly.
"I try," Jensen said. Besides, if Toby was a Security plant, he would certainly have a backup weapon tucked away somewhere. "Which way?"
"Through there," Toby said, pointing toward a gap between two stands of trees. "Give me a hand, will you, until my leg unstiffens a little?"
* * *
"Colonel?"
Bailey started awake, rolling over on the cot he'd had set up in his office. Ramirez was standing in the doorway, a sheaf of papers in his hand. "Yes, what is it?" he asked, wincing as he stretched aching muscles.
"I have something here you should see," Ramirez said, coming in as Bailey sat up. "One of the pylon teams picked this up late yesterday afternoon."
Frowning, Bailey took the papers. On top was a print of an infrared-sensor photo with a small shack in the center. The legend at the bottom of the print gave the coordinates, plus the fact that it had gone through a three-stage computer scrubbing. "What am I supposed to see?" he asked.
"There appear to be two human images present," Ramirez said, pointing to two blurs in the shack. "One sitting near the window, the other lying down further back. Problem is, the cabin's owned by a hermit who allegedly lives alone."
The hairs on the back of Bailey's neck began to tingle as he peeled off the top sheet and looked at the next page down, a topo map of the region with the cabin marked with a circle. It was just above a place called Shelter Valley, a few klicks northwest of Aegis Mountain. "Didn't anyone have the brains to wonder about this?"
"Actually, sir, two of the Security men accompanying the techs did go up to take a look," Ramirez said stiffly, and Bailey belatedly remembered that those tech teams had come from Ramirez's office. "When they got there, the hermit was alone."
"Did they get any other readings?" Bailey asked, shuffling through the papers. There didn't seem to be any more prints. "Anyone have any idea where the other one might have gone?"
"Unfortunately, no," Ramirez said sourly. "The sensor data wasn't nearly clear enough for them to take any action or even send up any red flags. You can see yourself that it took three scrubbings to get it even this clear."
Bailey looked back at the first page, frowning as he spotted the time stamp. "This came through at midnight?" he snarled, jabbing a finger at the number. "Why the hell are we talking about it now?"
"I tried to talk to Battle Architect Daasaa as soon as it came through," Ramirez said, his voice under tight control. "But he wouldn't authorize me to release any of the spotters or men assigned to Athena guard duty."
"Then why didn't you bring it to me?" Bailey snarled. "Maybe I could have done something."
"Yes, sir, I thought you might," Ramirez countered. "The trouble was, you'd left the building without telling anyone where you were going. And despite what you told the garage sergeant, we weren't able to reach you by comm."
Bailey squeezed the papers tightly between his fingers, silently cursing himself. Of course they hadn't been able to contact him—he'd turned off his comm so that the background chatter wouldn't distract him from his private interrogation at the hospital and had forgotten to turn it back on. "Get a team out there now," he ordered, glancing at the rim of the sun pushing its way above the eastern horizon. "I want the cabin searched—thoroughly—and everyone in town questioned. On second thought, make it two teams. And run me up everything we have on that hermit."
"I already did that, sir," Ramirez said, indicating the papers in Bailey's hand. "But I can't send any teams without Daasaa's authorization."
"Oh, can't you?" Bailey growled, getting to his feet. It was their missing blackcollar, all right—it had to be. If he slipped through their fingers because of miscommunication or flat-out bureaucratic bumbling, heads were going to roll. Very possibly literally. "Fine. Let's go find him."
* * *
The colors of the sky to the east were fading into blue, though the sun hadn't yet appeared over the mountains, when they reached the hidden air vent. "Here we are," Jensen said, pointing to the grating at the vent's mouth as they crossed the small clearing in front of it.
"Amazing," Foxleigh said, shaking his head in wonderment. Even knowing there was something out here to find, he hadn't spotted the grating until they were practically on top of it. "You know, I actually saw the kids who were working on this, though I couldn't tell what they were doing. It wasn't until your group showed up last year that I put the pieces together."
"I'm glad Security wasn't paying you visits then," Jensen said, starting to unfasten the twisted wires that held the grating in place. "Give me a hand here, will you?"
It took them several minutes to get the grating free. After that, it took four pulls by both of them to get it off. "You were right," Jensen admitted, puffing like a distance runner. "I couldn't have done that alone."
"We're going to want to close it up behind us, aren't we?" Foxleigh asked as he peered carefully inside. Beyond the grating, a metallic tunnel stretched back about twelve meters, then seemed to turn downward.
"Absolutely," Jensen said. "Let's turn it on edge and bring it inside, see if we can wedge it into position."
Five minutes later, they had it back in position and wired again in place. "Well, that was fun," Foxleigh commented. "Any trick to the rest of it?"
"All sorts of them," Jensen assured him, pointing down the tunnel. "We start with a hundred-meter climb down a ladder, with a sonic at the bottom that'll be trying to poke holes in your balance the whole way."
"Lovely," Foxleigh said, wincing. Like he didn't have enough trouble with balance even on his better days. "You didn't think to turn it off before you left?"
"We didn't want to turn it off," Jensen said. "Anyone authorized to be in here would know about it and be mentally prepared to fight against the effects. The only others who might come in here we didn't much care about."
Foxleigh shivered. Once upon a time, he reminded himself soberly, he'd considered coming out here on his own to check the place out. It was just as well he hadn't. "Okay, consider me mentally prepared," he said. "Let's get to it."
They were at the downward curve, and Jensen was fiddling with a rope ladder that had been left behind, when Foxleigh thought he heard the distant sound of approaching patrol boats. But it could have been his imagination.
* * *
"So they're gone," Bailey said flatly.
"Yes, sir," Ramirez said, his own voice stiff and formal. Clearly, he had no intention of taking the blame for this. "They found two ropes hanging down into a ravine from pulleys fastened beneath a trick box where Toby had mounted his toilet seat."
"Where he'd what?" Bailey lifted a hand before Ramirez could answer. "Never mind—I don't want to know. Did you track along this ravine to see where it goes?"
"It doesn't seem to actually go anywhere," Ramirez said. "The stream that Toby tapped into for his water supply joins it a little ways along, and then it just meanders its way southwest. There may be places where you can get out, though, which the team couldn't see from the air. If you'd like, I could send a couple of men to follow it on foot for a ways."
"Don't bother," Bailey growled. "Ten to one he and this Toby character left those ropes dangling as a red herring. If they're going anywhere, they'll be heading toward Aegis Mountain, not away from it."
"Toward Aegis Mountain?" Ramirez echoed, frowning.
"Certainly not away from it," Bailey said again, silently cursing his slip. Of course Ramirez didn't know the blackcollars had found a secret back door into the base. "Is there anywhere else they might have gone?"
"Yes, sir, they could have gone to Denver," Ramirez said. "One of Shelter Valley's residents and one of the town's two cars are missing."
Bailey sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Was this resident carrying any passengers?"
"No one saw any," Ramirez said, studying Bailey's face closely. Clearly, he'd picked up on the colonel's sudden change in mood. "But there are any number of places on the road he could have stopped to pick someone up."
