Liege-Killer

by Christopher Hinz

  “This investigation is proceeding well. Several promising leads are being explored. With luck, we should be able to capture the Paratwa before it carries out any more sadistic acts.”

  Rome gazed at the blocky face. He’s lying. He has no leads.

  Nu-Lin hunched forward. “Are you a-ware that no Pa-ra-twa has e-ver been cap-tured?”

  Artwhiler’s smile expanded. “I am guilty of a figure of speech. Naturally, should this creature resist arrest, my Guardians will use deadly force.”

  “Was dead-ly force used by your Guard-i-ans at the Nor-thern Cal-i-for-ni-a Pre-serve?”

  Artwhiler reddened slightly. “Those three brave men died because they were mentally unprepared to encounter such a beast. Their deaths have not been in vain. Their sacrifice has provided a rallying cry for the rest of my Guardians—we will not be caught unprepared again!”

  Nu-Lin placed a hand on her neck and gently squeezed the flesh, as if trying to force some emotion from the implanted wafer speakers. “This Pre-serve was un-der Guard-i-an ju-ris-dic-tion. Could you ex-plain to the Coun-cil how a sin-gle crea-ture was a-ble to de-stroy most of the a-ni-mals?”

  Rome stared at Nu-Lin, wondered about her anger. The blue eyes held fire.

  Artwhiler looked around the table for support, saw none. He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that even I could have gone into that zoo and killed those animals without much effort. They were, after all, helpless beasts, confined to a limited area.”

  “The Com-merce League feels that you are not ap-proach-ing this threat ser-i-ous-ly. Do you have an-y con-cep-tion of the trade dis-rup-tion cre-at-ed in Nor-thern Cal-i-for-ni-a be-cause of this at-tack? That Pre-serve formed the lo-cal ec-o-nom-ic base—with-out tour-ism, the co-lo-ny will suf-fer grave-ly. Have you tak-en the time to stu-dy the his-to-ry of these crea-tures? This at-tack was mild com-pared to what they are ca-pa-ble of.”

  “I assure you that the Guardians will bring this creature under control.”

  “Let us hope,” said Nu-Lin.

  Lady Bonneville turned to Artwhiler. “Given the time and resources, I am certain that the Guardians will triumph.”

  Rome glanced at Nu-Lin. She avoided his gaze. Nu-Lin’s feelings echoed his own, but attacking Artwhiler was not the way to gain Council’s support.

  Drake offered the next surprise. “I wish to announce a special ICN subsidy for the renovation of Sirak-Brath. That colony is the heart of the black market, and an infusion of well-managed capital should decimate some of this illegal trading.”

  This time Nu-Lin looked at Rome, sharing his astonishment.

  What’s going on here? That was our proposal. Three days ago we made a deal not to introduce such a measure. And now Drake has completely reversed his position!

  Artwhiler sat down. “An excellent idea, Councilor. Next to taking a legion of my Guardians into that sewer and cleaning it out, I can’t think of a better way to civilize Sirak-Brath.”

  Rome addressed Drake. “It was my understanding that the ICN was opposed to such renovation.”

  “We have changed our position,” Drake snapped.

  He’s furious, Rome thought.

  “The pol-i-cy of this Coun-cil has al-ways been to share the ra-tion-ale be-hind our pro-pos-als. You your-self have pro-mo-ted that pol-i-cy.”

  Drake stared coldly at Nu-Lin. “I thought the rationale was clear. Sirak-Brath is in need of renovation. And I am not proposing that the Council spend anything. I am merely stating that the ICN plans to invest a considerable amount in this project—up to point-seven billion in the current fiscal year. We would like the Council to serve as administrators, nothing more.”

  Point-seven billion! With that kind of money, you could almost build a new colony! Everyone shared Rome’s bewilderment.

  “Surely,” Lady Bonneville began, “such a massive investment will bring cries of unfairness from the Senate. After all, the ICN budget has been established for some time now. The Council and the Senate have funded projects in relation to where ICN monies were being directed. To change budgetary strategy at this late date...”

  Drake interrupted. “Inform the Senate that the ICN has recently completed a special audit alignment. We have restructured our investment program and are now accepting new proposals. That should take some of the sting out of their grievances.”

  “Perhaps a lesser amount?” Lady Bonneville suggested hopefully.

  “As always, the ICN is open to negotiation. But we intend that the majority of this point-seven billion go toward Sirak-Brath restoration.”

  Nu-Lin frowned. “But whe-re is this mon-ey com-ing from? If you are de-priv-ing point-sev-en bil-lion from ICN pro-jects, the Coun-cil may be asked to make up some of these los-ses.”

  Lady Bonneville wagged her head in agreement.

  Drake stared straight ahead. He looked like he had been turned to stone.

  “This money comes from our corporate lending program. There has been a major shift in short-term investment strategies. The availability of this money should have no repercussion on this Council.”

  Nu-Lin shook her head. “Per-haps not. But if you cut off cer-tain cor-por-ate aid, the Sen-ate may be asked to make up the dif-fer-ence.”

  “That will not happen.” Drake spoke with such finality that no one responded.

  The black face turned to Rome. “E-Tech has done preliminary work on the details of Sirak-Brath restoration. I suggest that they oversee the project.”

  Three days ago, Rome would have gladly accepted such a proposition. Now he was suspicious. Drake had ulterior motives that Rome could not begin to fathom.

  He needed time. “I vote to table any discussion of a Sirak-Brath restoration for two weeks.”

  “One week,” countered Drake.

  Lady Bonneville and Nu-Lin both seconded Drake’s motion. Artwhiler gave a slow thoughtful nod.

  Drake closed the discussion. “The Sirak-Brath restoration will be on the agenda in one week. The next item for today’s session concerns the possible disciplinary action against E-Tech for its failure to inform this Council about the Paratwa. Specifically, E-Tech violated the Irryan Charter, chapter one, paragraph seven.”

  Drake paused and Lady Bonneville jumped in. Their action smacked of a rehearsed piece. Drake and the Lady had come to an understanding.

  “I propose,” the Lady began, “that E-Tech be given a Council censure and that the matter be relegated to chambers.”

  Drake nodded. “I second that.”

  A private Council censure was the mildest of disciplinary actions. Rome was not surprised. Both Drake and Lady Bonneville generally saw the wisdom of avoiding severe intra-Council disciplinary disputes.

  Artwhiler stood up. “I would vote for a more severe penalty against E-Tech, but I see that the Council has made up its mind on this matter.” He glared at Lady Bonneville, who kept her eyes focused on the Van Gogh cornfield on the opposite wall.

  “I do, however, have something to say on the matter of this huge Sirak-Brath investment. At the last meeting, I proposed that this Council fund a major expansion of our perimeter warning system. That issue was tabled until next month—fair enough, since I promised to supply more substantial data at that time. Now, however, there is suddenly a huge amount of capital available from the ICN for...”

  “That matter also has been tabled,” Drake reminded him.

  “I’m aware of the status of both these issues. I merely wish to point out that if the ICN has money available, the priority should be defense, not renovation.”

  Lady Bonneville spoke quietly. “This sounds like a matter that should be settled directly between the Guardians and the ICN.”

  “No! Our mutual defense is a common priority!”

  Drake killed the issue. “Then have your Guardians send a detailed proposal to the ICN. We will take it under consideration.”

  Lady Bonneville smiled soothingly. “Now, Arty, the Council has agreed to give your project a fair hearing next month. We are all as
concerned about security as you are.”

  Artwhiler sat down, fuming.

  Rome thought: Artwhiler I understand. A slight case of paranoia has always been his trademark. But Drake?

  Something of consequence had occurred within the ICN. The banking consortium had never before made such a drastic change in an established budget; they simply did not operate that way. And for Drake to propose Sirak-Brath’s restoration ...

  It made no sense.

  Later, after the meeting ended, Lady Bonneville caught Rome at the elevator.

  “Dear me!” she began. “These Council affairs are becoming such trying experiences lately.” She smiled gamely. “Artwhiler is always so angry. It’s good that the more level-headed individuals—primarily you and Nu-Lin—are there to maintain some dignity.”

  “It’s becoming more difficult,” Rome offered. He stepped into the elevator with her and gave the command for street level. The elevator thanked him and began its slow descent.

  Lady Bonneville shook her head. “And Drake? Goodness! That loan business came as quite a surprise. Perhaps organizational troubles are plaguing him? Could he and the other ICN directors be feuding?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Or do you think that this funding proposal has something to do with La Gloria de la Ciencia’s loan?”

  Rome stared straight at her, waiting.

  “Well, you do know that La Gloria de la Ciencia is receiving a huge loan from the ICN.”

  Rome had not known. He kept his voice casual. “I heard a rumor.”

  The Lady smiled. “Not a direct loan, of course. Most of the money is being funneled through the West Yemen Corporation.” She eased closer to Rome, whispered in his ear like a conspirator.

  “You know what they’re saying out on the street, don’t you? One of my doormen told me. Many of our citizens feel that La Gloria de la Ciencia must be somehow connected to the awakening of this Paratwa. It makes sense to people. There’s a hi-tech assassin on the loose and there’s a powerful organization that favors hi-tech. People connect the two. You know how people think.”

  Rome nodded, letting her know that he did indeed know how people think.

  “It’s possible,” the Lady went on, “that at this time, Drake and the ICN are worried about being too closely linked to La Gloria de la Ciencia.”

  The argument sounded spurious. He pushed for more information. “How do you know this ICN money is being funneled to La Gloria de la Ciencia?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “I have my sources. And the West Yemen Corporation loan is for point-sixty-three billion. A very close figure, wouldn’t you say, to the point-seven billion that Drake suddenly has available?”

  Rome nodded. “I never heard of the West Yemen Corporation.”

  “You should look them up, and find out whether they’re being denied their latest loan.”

  The elevator reached street level and the doors whisked open. A deserted corridor led to a private exit.

  Rome hesitated. “What was La Gloria de la Ciencia planning to do with such a huge loan?”

  The Lady smiled. “Financial realities beset us all.”

  Rome wanted more details but he realized that she had given him all she was going to. Beneath Lady Bonneville’s charming manner was a shrewd politician. She had provided Rome with an avenue for exploration. She would not waltz down the street with him.

  He said, “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  She beamed as she trailed him from the elevator. “By the way, you and Angela are coming to my party next week, aren’t you?”

  “We hope to.”

  “I’m very excited! The guest list, I do believe, is my best one ever. I am looking forward to an extraordinary evening.”

  Rome squeezed out a fascinated smile. “I can hardly wait.”

  * * *

  Rome found an angry Pasha Haddad waiting for him back at the office.

  “Gillian and Nick should be returned to stasis immediately. They possess a brutality that will hurt E-Tech, no matter what the outcome of this Paratwa hunt.”

  Rome sat down, listened patiently as Haddad related the events of the previous evening. “Where are they now?”

  “In one of the spare offices. Should I call them in?”

  Rome nodded, hoping this would not take long. A staff meeting with his top aides was needed as soon as possible. Today’s Council behavior had to be discussed; E-Tech’s ongoing strategy might need to be shifted, modified. It was vital that they learn the reason behind Drake’s sudden policy change.

  “Howdy do!” drawled Nick. He strolled into the office and hopped up on Rome’s desk. Gaudy jumpsuits with movable pockets were fashionable right now; Nick’s was crimson, and several sizes too large. For no apparent reason, he had attached all of the pockets to the small of his back. He looked like he had grown a tail.

  Gillian wore a gray jacket, dark pants, and a pale shirt. He could have passed for an industrial manager or an ICN banker.

  The Pasha closed the door and sternly folded his arms.

  Nick grinned. “Daddy says we’ve been naughty.”

  Gillian sat down. Haddad remained erect, a statue at the door.

  “I’m afraid this is serious,” Rome began. “The Pasha told me what happened at the gym last night.”

  Nick shrugged. “We were just doing our job.”

  Rome shook his head. “A man was hospitalized—two others were treated for minor injuries.”

  Nick hesitated. “I don’t want to sound callous, but this is the big leagues. Those volunteers couldn’t cut it.”

  “You attacked them and they fought back,” Rome argued. “What did you expect?”

  Gillian raised his arm and Nick fell silent. So soft, Gillian thought. They still don’t realize what they’re up against.

  He spoke calmly. “Our methods were harsh, but we learned in five minutes what would have taken an entire evening under more polite circumstances. Those volunteers were unsuitable because they thought about attacking me before they attacked me. An admirable characteristic for a civilized human, but not for anyone going up against a Paratwa. While they were thinking, I was knocking them down and hurting them. Such caution would be fatal against an assassin.”

  Haddad stepped forward angrily. “You did not give my people a chance.”

  “Neither would the Paratwa,” Nick said. “Remember, this ain’t no boy scout we’re going after.”

  “Boy scout?”

  “Never mind.”

  Gillian shook his head. “Your people could be taught to react faster, but it would take a long time. And the sheen of consciousness would always be present. They might even learn to attack a Paratwa on sight, but the first time an innocent pedestrian entered the picture, they would hesitate. The Paratwa would not.”

  Rome saw where the conversation was leading and did not like it. “You want criminals—sociopaths with no qualms about killing.”

  “Such people would be just as unsuitable, but for other reasons.” Gillian kept his tone calm, soothing. “A conscience is acceptable, so long as it does not interfere with basic instincts. I need people whose reaction to being shoved is to shove back. No intervening rationalizations, no guilt, no fear. I need instant anger. I push and they push back.”

  “For the sake of argument,” Rome said, “let us assume that no such people can be found. What would be your next option?”

  “There is no option. I would not attempt combat against a Paratwa without an effective team.”

  “Fortunately,” Nick added hastily, “there are such people. You’ve got to allow us to recruit outside of E-Tech.”

  “Impossible,” barked Haddad.

  Nick faced Rome. “Think about it. First of all, we would be further separating ourselves from E-Tech. If things went badly, the organization would not be caught in the middle.”

  “There are already too many connections between you and E-Tech,” the Pasha pointed out.

  “True enough,” said N
ick. “But it would still be an improvement over present circumstances.” He pleaded with Rome. “We must have a free hand. It’s the only way.”

  Rome was inclined to agree with Haddad. Despite possible repercussions, they had to maintain some sort of control over Nick and Gillian. “You realize that I still have grave doubts about allowing the two of you to be involved in this investigation in the first place.”

  Investigation? Gillian wanted to laugh.

  Rome continued. “And I certainly don’t like your methods, no matter how necessary you claim they are.” He shook his head. “You’ll have to work within the organization as we agreed.”

  Gillian leaned back and folded his arms. Cold rationality was the last hope for changing their minds. “No one has ever told you what a fully armed Paratwa is like.”

  Haddad spoke calmly. “We’ve studied the history texts.”

  “Archives are dead—my experience is alive. True?”

  Rome nodded. “Go on.”

  Gillian closed his eyes. “It comes at you from two places—movements are sharp, catlike. A crescent web surrounds each tway, protects it front and back. A window of vulnerability exists at the sides, but even a thruster must be precisely aimed. No hand weapon can penetrate the front or back of the web. Only a multiport range laser can cut through, and even that would take a few seconds. The operator of the range laser would die in those seconds.

  “The crescent web repels gases, so you cannot easily poison the Paratwa. Extremes of temperature and pressure are bearable for short periods of time—survival in a vacuum is even possible for a few seconds.

  “The Paratwa carries AV and sensor scramblers, which means that computer and auto-targeting techniques are useless. You cannot electronically lock onto scrambled signals. The creature forces its attackers to utilize direct methods.

  “Offensive armaments. While you’re trying to get through the creature’s defenses, you are undergoing assault from at least four weapons. Two hands hold Cohe wands and two hands bear thrusters. Many creatures also wear muscle-controlled thighpads that can launch a variety of deadly projectiles—fragmentation grenades, gas and concussion bombs, firedarts, bullets, and knives.