Robert Charrette - Arthur 01 - A Prince Among Men

by Robert N. Charrette

  Within ten minutes of the asking, they were out and headed for the store that Kun's directions said was about half a mile away. The spring sun was warm, taking the chill out of the breeze. John was happy to be out in it, even though the coat Kun had given him to replace his leather jacket was a little heavy for the afternoon's temperature.

  Before they'd gone a block, Faye reported that Kun was following. John didn't care; he was just happy to be out of the house. He was even happier to be in a neighborhood where he didn't always have to look over his shoulder to make sure no one was sneaking up on him to mug him. Let Kun follow them. If there were any muggers, he could deal with them.

  Shopping the supermarket reminded him of hitting the grocer in the old rezcom.

  Which reminded him of his mom.

  The charm of the expedition evaporated and John's mood went dark. Trashcan Harry looked hurt when John snapped at him, but John wasn't about to explain or apologize. By the time they finished shopping, John had forced his mind back to the present and had begun to enjoy being outside again.

  He felt the sting on his neck about the same time he heard Faye's warning, but by then it was too late. He turned and saw Trashcan Harry slap at his neck. The bag Harry was carrying crashed to the ground.

  Run, John!

  John didn't feel like running. He felt like sleeping. Odd thing to do in the middle of the street. Still, he really felt like sleeping.

  No, John. You 've got to run!

  "Go away, Faye."

  He was amused by the rhyme. Sleepily amused. He was too detached to do more than smile. He was drifting off, oddly comfortable on the concrete. Too tired to even wonder why Trashcan Harry was standing over him and growling at somebody.

  As soon as the policeman left, Holger saw that the tracers were dead. He crumpled the citation for an allegedly inoperable turn signal and ran back the monitor record. The blips last showed at a location a couple of blocks away, so he checked it out on foot. The location was at the intersection of a street running behind the market and a service road that ran into an industrial park, a low-traffic area with few people about.

  There was nothing unusual to be seen.

  The wind was picking up, plucking at his jacket. Holger stepped into the lee of the industrial park's sign. No, nothing. They might have just disappeared into thin air. He shuddered.

  The wind was still tugging at him, which annoyed him; the sign should be protecting him. He put annoyance aside and scanned the area. His eyes fell on a scrap of grocery bag. While he watched, the flimsy plastic fluttered up and away, heading toward a line of trees with uncanny directness. The scrap hit one of the trees and hung there.

  Holger looked around. He was still the only one around. Nervously, he walked to the tree. The bag scrap was hanging from something that protruded from the tree. Lifting the plastic, he saw that a crystalline dart had embedded itself in the trunk. Gripping it in the scrap of plastic, he pulled it free, only to see it dissolve from the heat of his hand.

  This was a technology he knew, and it meant that Reddy and Black's disappearance was not magical. He felt better, despite the way in which his attention had been drawn to the dart. Careful to retain the tiny drop of liquid that was all that remained of the crystalline sliver, he folded the plastic up. With luck, he'd have a lead after it was analyzed.

  John heard voices talking softly as he came again to awareness.

  Faye?

  No, not Faye.

  He couldn't catch most of what was said, but one thing that came through was a male voice warning sternly about abreaction. He heard the name Pentatell™ and recalled that Pentatell was some kind of truth serum. There was a soft, distant argument and John heard a female voice. That was what had made him think of Faye.

  He opened his eyes. Like a slow-warming video tube, images brightened to something approaching clarity. His stomach didn't like the shift, and rebelled. Heaves racked his body and he felt strong hands on him, steadying him, while a voice spoke nonsense words in reassuring tones. The hands eased him back into the bed once he'd stopped retching. Exhausted, he shut his eyes and let the hands prod and scour him clean.

  "Feeling better?" a deep male voice asked.

  Than what? A dead rat? He opened his eyes and looked at his questioner. The voice belonged to a husky man in a white uniform. He smelled of antiseptic and spice.

  "The doctor says you should be up to talking, but that you shouldn't overdo it."

  The man retreated and a woman stepped into John's line of sight. She might have been a vid actress playing the role of a corporate bigwig, except she wasn't quite beautiful enough. Which was not to say she wasn't pretty, if you liked well-preserved, middle-aged Latin types. An affiliation button gleamed in the lapel of her impeccable business suit, but John's eyes wouldn't focus on it.

  She was accompanied by a bearded guy in a similar suit who was practically a dwarf; he barely topped the woman's shoulder. The man's sour expression contrasted sharply with the friendly smile the woman was offering.

  "John, do you know who I am?" she asked.

  "No," he croaked. "Should I?"

  "My name is Pamela Martinez. I am an executive in the Mitsutomo Keiretsu. This is Mr. Sorli. We've been worried about you, John."

  "Mitsutomo?" Hadn't they tried to kill him? He wished his brain hadn't been exchanged for oatmeal.

  "You've been keeping bad company, John." There was a tinge of admonition in her voice. "But we've brought you home now."

  "Home?" This antiseptic-smelling white room with its chrome and enamel trim didn't look like anybody's home. "Where am I?"

  "At one of our Boston facilities."

  "Boston? But I was in Rhode Island. I don't remember. I low did I get here?"

  Sorli started to answer him. "We tracked you down—"

  "Unfortunately, you were in the company of Harold Black. In an attempt to separate you from him, you were inadvertently hit with a drugged dart that was intended to immobilize him. I'm afraid you had a bad reaction to the drug."

  "Black? Trashcan Harry? What happened to him?"

  "Don't worry about him, kid," Sorii said. "We took care of him."

  "You killed him?"

  "No, he's not dead, John. But Mr. Sorli's right, you shouldn't be worried about him. He's not your friend. He is a subversive and a killer, who has been deliberately misleading you as to his intentions. You are lucky we were able to rescue you from him and his associates."

  "I didn't need rescuing."

  "I told you he was contaminated," Sorii said to Martinez.

  "He is confused, that's all," she replied. To John she said, "We know you've been misled. We are going to help you understand what is really happening, because we need the help of strong, honest men like you."

  John didn't feel very strong. In fact, with his limbs all doing an imitation of wet rags, he felt like shit. But he knew (lattery when he heard it, even if he didn't know why they thought him worth the effort.

  "What do you want with me?"

  "We are fighting against the chaos that is trying to destroy our world. It is a threat that no rational person can ignore. We want you to help us."

  "I don't understand. I don't know anything about any chaos."

  "You understand better than you think you do. We know that you were at the Woodman Museum on the night when agents of chaos achieved one of their breakthroughs. You have seen what they can do. You must know that they have to be stopped, before they rip society apart."

  Martinez sounded sincere. Almost too sincere. She might have been a preacher looking for converts. John had never liked pushy preachers much.

  "Mitsutomo protected you while you grew up, John. Is it too much to ask that you help protect Mitsutomo now?"

  It sounded so reasonable.

  "Your mother depends on us. You've spent some time on the streets. You've seen how people who don't have the benefit of corporate affiliation live. Can you see your mother living like that? She will have to, if the agents
of chaos have their way. You can do something to prevent such a catastrophe, John. Your mother would never survive on the street. She's depending on you, John."

  "She thinks I'm dead."

  "That can change. You can go back home to her. It will be difficult at first; she didn't take your 'death' well at all, but our psychologists helped her adjust. We'll be there to help again."

  "I want to see her."

  "You can't just now, John. It wouldn't be wise."

  "Why not?"

  "There are things that have to be done. The agents of chaos are unscrupulous; should they learn that you are helping us, they could threaten her. I believe that it is safer for her if you remain 'dead' for a while longer. Once you think about it, you'll agree. When things are settled, we will do everything in our power to see that you and your mother have a happy reunion."

  "What do you want from me?"

  "Artos," Sorli said.

  Martinez gave the man a stern glance. "We need your cooperation in our fight against the chaos. This Artos is one of the enemy's agents. He and those who help him are destabilizing our world. Like Black, he is not your friend, John. What has he done for you, after all?"

  What indeed?

  "He's taken your life away," she continued. "You don't owe him anything."

  Visions of thirty silver pieces swam before John's eyes. "You want me to betray him."

  "You can't betray someone to whom you owe no loyalty," Sftrli said. "You've seen him kill. People who get in his way die. How long before you get in his way?"

  "He's dangerous, John," Martinez reiterated. "You know that."

  Too well.

  The intensity of these two was frightening. Just like Bear sometimes. Everybody wanted John on their side; everybody told him how dangerous everyone else was. Whom was he supposed to believe?

  "We need your help, John. Your mother needs you."

  John's vision went blurry as tears welled up in his eyes.

  "When this is all over, you can come home, John. You and your mother will have the best Mitsutomo can offer."

  Could he believe her? He was so confused, and it was so hard to think.

  "I need some time to think about this."

  She patted his arm sympathetically. At her nod Sorli left; the male nurse, too. When they were alone, she said, "Don't think too long, John. The chaos grows continually. Time is against us."

  Then she left. John caught the sound of a snick when the door closed behind her. He didn't need to get out of bed to know that it was locked, but he checked it out anyway. It was locked. He tottered back to the bed, trying to force his muzzy head into thinking.

  CHAPTER 17

  It was four in the morning, and Advanced Concepts Engineering was quiet. Nothing Holger and Bear had done so far had disturbed that peace, but they were getting to the sticky part now. Bear moved almost silently as he crept toward the ACE guard. Clearly the man's hearing was not as sharp as Holger's, for he didn't react to the dark shadow approaching him. Watching over the sights of the Hammer-Schoenfeld tranq pistol, Holger waited until Bear was within three meters before squeezing off his shot.

  The dart penetrated the guard's neck just below and behind his right ear. The man slapped at his neck, the usual reaction. The drug was fast-acting, and he started to slump, staring stupidly at his clean hand. They usually thought an insect had stung them. Bear moved, grabbing the man before he fell forward onto his console. It was well done.

  Holger joined him at the desk. "You move well. Very quiet."

  "Ever raid a Welsh camp?"

  "No."

  "I have. You have to be quiet or you don't get to tell the tale."

  "Good sensor net?"

  Bear looked at him oddly. "Big ears."

  "Right."

  Holger scanned the console, noting the layout, and made a few changes to the program on his perscomp.

  Bear draped the guard on the desk, arranging him to look as though he had fallen asleep naturally. "Fitting touch, using their own alchemy against them."

  "It'll do."

  It was chemistry rather than alchemy, but the distinction seemed unimportant.

  Analysis on the crystal needle Holger had recovered from the kidnapping site had revealed that two of the three major components of the chemical cocktail were typical constituents in the sort of tranquilizer drugs used in veterinary medicine. Chemogenics product. The lab had been unable to identify the third component's function, although they had spotted a signature section of the molecular chain that was the mark of a Chemogenics designer drug. The first two components could have been bought, but the third wasn't a commercial product. Since Chemogenics was a Mitsutomo Keiretsu affiliate, the evidence almost cinched the certainty that the kidnapping operation had been one of Mitsutomo's. Using a commercial Chemogenics tranq drug for their own operation was appropriate in a way.

  Holger popped the prepared chip from his perscomp and slotted it into the console. He ran the trial routine and got a "go" signal. Now, whenever he flashed his laser transmitter at a vid camera, the chip would read the coded light and activate the penetration program. The ACE computer would duplicate the previous two minutes of video and record it again as current input with a time tag starting ten seconds before the coded signal. It could get them in and out without being recorded, as long as they were brisk. An expert could detect the modification when reviewing the tapes, but by then, if all went well, Mitsutomo would have better reason to know they'd been hit.

  Holger finished well before the lobby camera's panning swing brought it back around to the console desk. He and Bear retreated to the unmonitored hall from which he'd shot the guard. The camera panned past and recorded the sleeping guard. Holger waited until it finished the pan and went back across the desk. The camera had the footage now to portray an undisturbed sleeping guard each time it scanned the area. They returned to the desk. After showing Bear how to flash the camera, Holger set to work running the ACE computer, looking for something to confirm what Spae's mumbo-jumbo suggested.

  Association and Contagion were the authorities she had cited when she had emerged from her ritual circle and handed him a marked map of north Boston, saying that was where Reddy was. Bear had seemed satisfied with her pronouncement, but Holger had needed to run his own check on the map location. Magic was unreliable. After checking each address in the area, his sources revealed one of them as Advanced Concept Engineering, a member of the Mitsutomo Keiretsu. It might have been just a coincidence that Spae had circled a block containing the offices of a Mitsutomo affiliate; but it was the best bet they had.

  Holger learned that it was a good bet when his unauthorized prowling in their system turned up the admission logs. Coincidence could be stretched only so far. The log showed the unscheduled arrival of several persons employed by Medinet Corporation within an hour of Reddy's disappearance. There was no record of on-site injury, so they hadn't come in response to an accident. Could it be only more coincidence that Medinet, another member of the Keiretsu, was the primary consumer of ACE's tranquilizer drugs? Not as far as Holger could see; he felt confident enough to continue the penetration.

  Checking inventory records, Holger found that there had been a draw on medical supplies within minutes of the Medinet team's arrival. He felt sure that if he knew more about medicine the names of the drugs scrolling by would have told him something significant. The entry did tell him I hat the Medinet team had a patient, or patients.

  But where? Reddy might not even be here anymore. A further check of the admission records showed an irregular pattern of the members of the Medinet team logging in and out. Several were still on the premises, which suggested that their patient or patients were as well. The biological labs were the obvious place to hold a prisoner needing medical attention, and they had the tightest security in the facility. If Reddy was there, it wouldn't be easy getting him out. Much more trouble than Holger wanted to deal with.

  But what if Reddy wasn't there?

  Direct ac
cess to the medical files was beyond Holger; he didn't have the time or skill to hack past the security. He needed a more oblique method to confirm the target. He checked the building facility records. Yes, the labs showed increased power draw at about the right time. So did a number of other sections, including the executive suite, which wasn't surprising. If Mitsutomo's commitment was great enough to send a hit team, they'd have a honcho riding herd on the operation. What was surprising was the continuing power draw from one of the guest suites. Holger ran a cross-match, searching what files he could for something that related to the guest suite. He found a delivery receipt for medical equipment, signed by one of the Medinet team.

  He'd found the patient.

  Now, if only it was Reddy.

  Thinking it the best shot they had, he decided to take it. Getting to the room was relatively easy; ACE didn't have high-security protection on the living areas of the facility. Maybe they thought their perimeter measures were sufficient; maybe they expected the boss suits to bring their own security. Holger didn't know and just now he didn't care; he was content to take it the way it was.

  The corridor connecting the guest suites did have a camera on watch, so he flashed it with his laser transmitter and moved to the door they sought. Bear slipped along behind him, watching for anyone who might interfere.

  The door was locked and operable only from the outside. That was actually a good sign. Only certain kinds of "guests" would be locked in.

  Holger took out his magnetic pick and slipped the probe into the lock's slot. There wasn't a lot of time. He hated having to pick a lock under a time limit Fiddling with the tuner, he got the general pattern in thirty seconds. With a minute and twenty seconds left, he let the expert system take over.

  One minute left: the readout gave a 50% probability of match.

  Forty-five seconds. The probability had risen only eleven percent.