The Bloodhawk raised an eyebrow. “He’s lying, of course.”
“Of course,” said Skye, “But then, both of you would say anything to save your skins, wouldn’t you?”
“I’ve got money,” said Vertue. “Lots of it. I’ll give you half, if you’ll let me go.”
“You gave my sister to the knives,” said Madelaine Skye. “And there isn’t enough gold in the Empire to make up for what you did to my Jamie.”
Vertue looked into her cold green eyes and saw his death staring back. He whimpered faintly, and then snatched up the disrupter lying on the reclamation unit. Skye’s sword flashed up and down in a silvery arc, and severed Vertue’s hand from his wrist. He just had time to scream, and then he fell back as Donald’s throwing knife sprouted from his throat. Blood flew on the freezing air, and Vertue fell dying to the floor. Donald and Skye turned quickly to face the Bloodhawk, only to stop suddenly as they saw the disrupter in his hand.
“You didn’t think he was the only one with a gun, surely?” said the Bloodhawk. “Please put away the sword, Madelaine. I assure you, you’re not going to get a chance to use it.”
Skye sheathed her sword, being careful to make no sudden movements.
“Very good, Madelaine. Now, both of you unbuckle your sword belts and let them drop to the floor.”
Donald and Skye did so. The scabbarded swords made a heavy, hopeless sound as they hit the floor. The Bloodhawk gestured for Skye and Donald to move back from the reclamation unit, and they did so. The Bloodhawk glanced at Vertue’s disrupter lying on the floor, and kicked it out of reach.
“That was a nice throw, Donald,” he said appreciatively. “A direct hit on the carotid artery, from a very tricky angle.”
“It wasn’t that good,” said Donald. “I was aiming for his eye.”
“Dear Donald, modest as ever. You realise I can’t let either of you live. You know far too much. As far as everyone else is concerned, I am missing, presumed dead, and I fully intend to stay that way until I’m safely off this stinking planet. Don’t make this any more complicated than it has to be. Just take it quietly, and I’ll kill you quickly and cleanly.”
“Like you killed Darkstrom?” said Donald suddenly.
“Exactly.”
“Bastard.”
“Really, Donald… “
“She loved you!”
“She was useful.”
Donald Royal stared grimly at the Bloodhawk. “There’s two of us, and only one of you. Shoot me, and Skye’ll get you before your gun can recharge.”
“Quite possibly,” said the Bloodhawk. “But she won’t risk your life, any more than you’ll risk hers. And neither of you is desperate enough to throw away your own life on the chance the other will get me. No, you’ll just go on doing as I tell you, hoping that I’ll make a mistake and you’ll be able to turn the tables on me. You’ll find some rope over there in the corner, Donald. Go and fetch it. Don’t even think of trying something heroic, or I’ll kill Madelaine.”
“Rope,” said Donald, not moving.
“You’re going to tie her up, and then I’m going to tie you up. Then I can shoot you both quite safely. Now, don’t say any more, Donald. I don’t really have the time to kill you as slowly as I’d like, but give me even the slightest excuse, and I swear I’ll find the time. I hate you, old man. I’ve always hated you. If it hadn’t been for you and your example, Mistport would have fallen apart years ago, and I would have been free to leave this squalid little planet. Time and time again I set up schemes and you wrecked them. You kept the Council honest, and fought corruption in the Watch. You’re the reason I’ve been trapped here all these years!”
He started towards Donald, his face twisted with rage. His gun hand shook in the intensity of his emotion. And in that moment, while his attention was fixed solely on Donald, Madelaine Skye drew from her pocket the disrupter she’d taken from the dead secretary in the reception office. The Bloodhawk caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, and started to turn. Donald stepped quickly forward and hit the Bloodhawk with a left uppercut to the chin. He put everything he had into the blow, and the Bloodhawk staggered backwards, his gun hand swinging wildly back and forth. Skye chose her moment carefully, and shot him through the heart. The searing energy beam threw the Bloodhawk back against the reclamation tank. He stood spread-eagled against it for a moment, and then slid lifeless to the floor.
Skye looked at him for a moment, and then put away the gun. “That was for you, Jamie,” she said softly. She turned to Donald Royal, who was nursing his left hand gingerly. “Are you all right, Donald?”
“I think I’ve broken every bone in my hand.”
Skye laughed. “My hero. Come on, it can’t be that bad if you can still flex your fingers like that.”
Donald sniffed, but had to smile. “We didn’t do too badly in the end, did we?”
“Not bad at all. We made quite a team.” She stopped and looked at Donald thoughtfully. “Donald, how would you like to make it permanent? I could use a partner like you.”
Donald looked at her. “Are you serious? At my age?”
“I said partner, not husband. We work well together. My skill, and your experience; it’s a natural.”
Donald thought about it, and then grinned suddenly. “What the hell. I was getting bored with being a Councillor.”
They grinned at each other. Donald put out his hand, and Skye shook it firmly.
“Now what?” said Madelaine Skye.
“Well, first I suppose we’d better get back to the command centre and see if that bastard was telling the truth about the Imperial Fleet. I have a strong feeling we don’t know the half of what’s really been going on.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
* * *
Songs in the Night
WITH so many Watchmen roaming the streets most thieves decided that discretion was after all the better part of valour, and retired from their normal lives for a while. The patrols had been out in the bitter cold all morning with hardly a break, and were growing increasingly tired and touchy. They’d arrest anyone, on the slightest suspicion, just to get off the streets and out of the cold. Thieves stayed indoors, and waited for better days.
All save the roof runners.
Perched high up on a weather-beaten gable like some ghostly gargoyle, Cat rested his chin on his white-gloved hand and sighed quietly to himself. It was almost three days since the unfortunate affair at Gallowtree Gate, and Cyder was still furious at missing out on Starlight’s loot. Cat had been in such a hurry to get out of the cemetery that he’d even forgotten to take the Captain’s disrupter. Such guns were rare on Mistworld, and therefore valuable, and Cyder was still giving him hell for having left it behind. Today had been no better than the day before, and so Cat had decided to take to the roofs for a while, until Cyder calmed down a little and stopped throwing things. Fresh movement caught his eye, and he peered interestedly down into the mists below, where a patrol of the Watch were halfheartedly searching a garbage-filled back alley while their leader reported in.
Investigator Topaz shifted her weight from one numbed foot to the other and pulled her heavy cloak about her as she waited for the command centre to re-route her call to Steel’s apartment. Typical, she thought sourly. My men are out here risking pneumonia, and he’s sitting at home with his feet up in front of a nice warm fire. There’s no justice. Or at least none we can learn to live with. She glared about her into the thinning fog. A low wind had sprung up, dispersing the mists, but it only made the cold bite deeper. Even with her Investigator’s training, Topaz was beginning to feel the cold. I must be getting soft. I’ll be needing eight hours of sleep a night next. She shook her head sadly, and then looked down as static whispered from the comm unit in her hand.
“Yes, Investigator.”
“Sector Four clear, Director; no trace of the rogue. Any news your end?”
“A few sightings, but none confirmed. The twelve espers I set looking for Mary must have
found her. They’re all dead. I daren’t risk trying that again.”
Topaz swore under her breath, so as not to alarm her men. Right now, the last thing they needed was more bad news to discourage them. “What’s happening with the Fleet? Have they moved against the shield yet?”
“No. They’re still up there, waiting. We may have something on the rogue. One of her first victims after the Blackthorn was Captain Starlight. There’s some evidence to suggest she deliberately hunted him down.”
“Evidence?”
“I was… having him watched at the time. I suspected him of trying to smuggle valuables off the landing field. Most of my watchers lost their minds along with Starlight, but one of my men had left earlier on. It’s only now that what he had to say is starting to make sense.… Anyway, it’s possible the rogue thought Starlight had something she wanted, something smuggled off Tannim. Among Starlight’s effects we found a single blue sapphire, apparently acquired from one of the refugees. Such gems are increasingly rare throughout the Empire, and are especially prized on Tannim.”
“Who has this sapphire now?”
A fat chuckle answered her.
“Of course, Director. I should have known.”
“Quite. It seems to me there might be some connection between the rogue and the sapphire. I’ve sent for a courier to take it to the port laboratories. Maybe it’ll tell them something. Looks like just another gem to me. Anyway, we should have their report sometime this afternoon. Assuming we’re all still here this afternoon.”
“Very well. Let me know the results when you get them.”
“Of course. Topaz… “
“Yes?”
“Donald Royal finally turned up at the control tower. I was just talking to him when you called. It seems Leon Vertue is dead. He was shot, while trying to kill Donald.”
“I see.”
“No doubt we’ll get all the details later. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Yes. Thank you, Steel. I’m moving on to Sector Five now. Topaz out.”
“Steel out.”
Topaz slipped the comm unit back into her pocket and called for her patrol to re-form. The Watchmen emerged from the back alley shaking their heads and brushing rotting garbage from their clothes. Topaz accepted their report, and then led them off into the mists.
Cat watched them go from the gable’s shadow, and scratched thoughtfully at his pockmarked cheek. What he’d been able to read off Topaz’s lips both intrigued and worried him. The Empire hadn’t moved directly against Mistworld in almost two hundred years; not since the Fleet first smashed itself against the psionic shield. But now it seemed they were back.… He worried his lower lip between his teeth, scowling. He’d better tell Cyder, and see what she made of it. If nothing else, it might take her mind off losing Starlight’s loot.
Cat padded softly away across the snow-covered roofs. As he disappeared into the rising mists, a tall blonde with faraway eyes emerged from the shadows of the alleyway below. She’d thought for a time that the Watch were going to find her, but they hadn’t looked very hard. To be exact, they hadn’t dug deep enough. The garbage had been very unpleasant, but Mary had hidden in worse places. Anything was better than being found and handed back to the Empire. She’d found Topaz’s conversation very interesting. So, Port Director Steel had her sapphire, but he was going to give it to somebody else. She couldn’t have that. She’d have to find Steel first, and make him give her back her sapphire. This woman, Topaz; she’d know where Steel was. Mary moved off into the thickening mists, following the Investigator and her patrol.
Even the best programs can be diverted.
Cat hung upside down from the Blackthorn’s guttering and frowned worriedly as he saw that the attic room’s shutters stood slightly ajar. It wasn’t like Cyder to be so careless. He pulled the shutters open, grabbed the steel hoops set above the window, and swung down and into the attic room.
Only one of the lamps was lit, and there was a chill to the air. Cat pulled the shutters firmly together. Cyder was sitting in a chair before the fire, staring into the leaping flames. She looked tired and bitter and just a little lost. There was no loot for her to fence, and the Blackthorn was still closed. Cyder had worked hard at repairing what she could, but there was a limit to what she could do with her resources, and she’d pretty much reached it. To be poor in Mistport was a crime, often punished by death in the cold and unforgiving streets. Cat scowled fiercely. He was still a roof runner, and a good burglar could always make money. One way or another.
Cyder looked round as she heard him approaching and gave him a warm smile, but her eyes were vague and absent. She got up to greet him, and Cat put his arms around her. For a moment she leant against him, happy just to be held and comforted, and then she pushed him away, her face falling back into its usual hard, controlled lines. She smiled at Cat’s disappointed face, and kissed him warmly.
“It’s about time you got back. Where’ve you been?”
Cat laboriously spelt out in fingertalk what he’d learned from the leader of the Watch patrol. He was puzzled; Cyder seemed strangely calm as she watched his fingers, almost distracted. When he’d finished, she kissed him quickly and then moved away to inspect her face and hair in the mirror on the wall. Cat watched her lips in the reflection.
“Don’t worry about the Imperial Fleet, my darling. As long as the esper shield’s up, they can’t hurt us. As for the plague carrier, I know the price on her head is tempting, but we’re thieves, not bounty hunters. Leave such work for those with a taste for it. All right?”
Cat nodded reluctantly.
“Good. Now then, I’ve got a job for you. I’m going to see Port Director Steel.”
Cat raised an eyebrow, and Cyder laughed.
“Don’t worry, darling. Steel and I have been business associates from time to time in the past. He recently acquired a rather fine sapphire, and I have a buyer for such a gem. I had made arrangements with Steel to purchase the sapphire from him, but when I contacted him an hour ago, he broke our agreement and refused to sell me the jewel at any price. In fact, he was quite short with me. Now we can’t have that, can we? I was depending on that deal, Cat. The profit on reselling the sapphire would have gone a long way to helping us out of our present difficulties. Now we’ve got nothing, and it’s all his fault. So, I am going to invite myself to dinner with Steel. It shouldn’t be difficult; dear Gideon does so love showing off his culinary skills, and we usually enjoy each other’s company. And that’s where you come in, Cat. While I keep him occupied, you’re going to break into his apartment and steal the sapphire.”
Cat smiled politely. He’d have been better off staying on the roof.
“I knew you’d approve,” said Cyder.
The mists filled the narrow streets as Topaz waited impatiently for her patrol to catch up with her. The fog pressed close about her, leaving a sheen of moisture on her hair and cloak. Visibility was poor, the high stone walls around her little more than dim shadows. A single street lantern glowed bravely against the encroaching fog, a pool of amber light in a sea of endless grey. At least it had stopped snowing.
Vertue was dead. Topaz smiled slowly. With him gone, her vengeance was finally complete. She would have preferred to kill him herself, but it didn’t matter. It was enough that he was dead. She felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and yet…
What do I do now? I need… something in my life; something to give it shape and purpose.
For a long time that had been Michael. Then there had been revenge. Now… what? She frowned slightly. She was a Commander in the Watch. Michael would have found that amusing, but Topaz had already found a kind of comfort in the Watch. Right from the beginning they had accepted her, despite who and what she was, and what she’d done in the past. Perhaps, through the Watch, she could repay Mistworld something of the debt she owed it, for having taken her in and given her sanctuary from the Empire.
Slow footsteps broke the silenc
e, and Topaz looked quickly around. Her men were going to have to do much better than this if they were going to cover all the sectors in this Quarter before nightfall. And then Topaz frowned as she realised there was only one set of footsteps approaching. The harsh, crisp sound of boots on snow carried clearly on the still air. Topaz turned to face the sound, one hand moving automatically to the gun at her side.
Typhoid Mary came walking slowly out of the fog, wrapped in a filthy, tattered cloak. Her gaunt face and hands were bare to the cold, and already showed clear signs of frostbite. She was smiling, and her eyes were very bright. Topaz knew who she was. One Siren can always recognise another. Topaz saw the power that burned in the rogue like an all-consuming flame, and felt her mouth go dry. For as long as she could remember, she’d always known she was the most powerful Siren there’d ever been. Now she wasn’t sure that was true anymore. Even through her shields Mary’s mind blazed like a searchlight. Deep within Mary’s mind Topaz could see the Empire’s handiwork; a dark and savage conditioning that writhed among Mary’s thoughts like maggots in a fallen apple.
Topaz glanced back the way she’d come, and saw nothing but the mists. And even if her patrol did get to her in time, there would be nothing they could do. Cold steel was no defence against a Siren’s song. Topaz knew she stood or fell alone, just as she had once before, when she’d faced an entire company of the Guard and destroyed them with her song. She could still hear their screams. Typhoid Mary stood before her, still smiling. Topaz carefully moved her hand away from her gun. It couldn’t help her now.
“Mary…”
“That’s not my name.”
“I can help you.”
The tall blonde shook her head slowly, her dead-white face as empty as a mask. Her smile was a grimace, and the light in her eyes was cold and deadly. “I thought Mistworld at least would be free of bounty hunters. Save your breath, Investigator. I won’t let the Empire take me again.”
Mistworld (Deathstalker Prelude) Page 21
