The Entean Saga - The Complete Saga

by C B Williams

  His hands were clammy and his face ashen. “You came to tell me in person of Max’s demise. That was kind, but now you have put yourself in grave danger. Please, sit, I have something terrible to tell you.” He pulled her down to the sofa without loosening his grasp. “Mouse, I did it. I murdered Max. I had him assassinated, and it was all a terrible, terrible mistake.”

  The words spewed from him, making it impossible for her to say anything.

  “I was deceived, Mouse. Fed incorrect information.” he shook his head and finally released her hands to rummage through his jacket pockets until he found a damp handkerchief. He commenced to blot his eyes. “And I’m trapped here. They’re holding me until I can decipher Max’s codes. They don’t believe me when I tell them I know nothing of his coding system. I’m so afraid they might kill me as well.”

  While he was babbling, Mouse walked around scanning the office. It didn’t take her long to find the bugs and the vids. How many minutes did they have? She speculated no more than five, probably less.

  She pulled Ingot to his feet and into her embrace. “There, there, Ingot,” she said soothingly, and then whispered close to his ear, “I’m getting you out of here. Do exactly as I say.” Then more loudly she said, “Why don’t we get you cleaned up? Let’s go to the kitchen, get you a cup of tea, and then I’ll help you with Max’s codes.”

  He blinked. “You will?”

  She nodded. “Come,” she said, and led him out of the room and down the hall where Max stood waiting, the guard not far off.

  She could tell by the set of Max’s jaw he knew something was up. She just hoped he followed her lead. And she prayed she wouldn’t have to kill anybody. She didn’t need to add any more corpses to the ones already feeding her nightmares

  With her arm around Ingot’s waist, she approached Max. “We’re leaving,” she told him quietly. “Quickly.”

  So far their luck was holding, but Mouse wasn’t hopeful. She pulled a knife and turned to Ingot. “You’re safe from me,” she whispered, “but act afraid when the time comes. You go first,” she told Max.

  “Wh—?”

  “Hsst. No time.”

  To her great relief, he didn’t argue, but walked calmly and rapidly back the way they had come.

  “Ingot, sir,” the guard said. “Is everything all right? I thought you said you wouldn’t be leaving the premises until Max returns.”

  Ingot glanced at Mouse, who held him tightly about the waist, “I need to go on a quick errand. Nothing to worry about. I shall return soon.”

  They all glanced up when a handful of armed guards came running from within the building. “Stop them!” the man who had taken Mouse to see Ingot shouted.

  A guard fastened his grip on Max, who struggled to shrug it off. “Mouse!” he shouted.

  Mouse wheeled, Ingot in front of her, and started walking backwards, her knife at Ingot’s throat. “You heard him,” she shouted, “It’s a quick errand, and he will return soon,” she paused. “Unless you try to detain us. Then Ingot will die.” Mouse was stronger than she looked, and Ingot wasn’t any bigger than she was. She dragged him through the gauntlet of guards, their faces wearing identical expressions of concern and confusion.

  Max, following Mouse, looked at their faces. “I don’t recognize these guards!” he muttered to Mouse. “Any of them.”

  She heard his fear. “Keep going,” she said. “You’re a messenger. They wouldn’t dare touch you.”

  “Stop them!” the man shouted again. He pulled his weapon. “They’re kidnapping Ingot! Stop them!”

  “Run!” Mouse released Ingot. “Run, you two! Max, you know where to go. I’ll be there soon.” Taking a chance, she bolted from the house.

  Ingot’s head whipped around. “Max?”

  “Is dead,” Max replied. “Follow me. I’ll take you to safety.” He grabbed Ingot by the shirtfront. Together they careened down the street, the guards hot on their heels.

  Mouse ran in the opposite direction, jumping to the rooftops as soon as she was certain she hadn’t been detected. Vaulting across the spaces between buildings, she circled around and waited while the guards chasing Ingot and Max passed beneath her. Swallowing bile, she killed every last person sent to retrieve them, then searched their pockets and kept whatever seemed relevant.

  Chapter 7

  Max led Ingot back to Manabu’s home. His hands shook so badly, it took him three tries to tap in the lock’s code Mouse had insisted he memorize.

  He glanced at Ingot, who leaned against the side of the building, pale and panting. “Let’s get inside.” As Mouse had instructed, he reset the lock and re-armed the alarm. “Come.”

  “Where are we?” Ingot wheezed from behind him while they mounted the stairs.

  “Somewhere safe.”

  Without removing his uniform helmet, Max went directly to where Manabu stored his spirits, poured a shot, downed it, and then poured himself another one, plus one for Ingot. “Better sit down,” he said as he handed his right-hand man his drink.

  Ingot carefully sat and squinted at him, head cocked.

  Max sat across from him, set his drink on the table between them and removed his helmet. “Max is dead, eh?”

  Ingot stared, his throat working. Then he tilted his head back and drained his drink.

  “I’ll have some of that,” Mouse said.

  Max jumped. He couldn’t help himself. Mouse had come in so silently, like a shadow. He turned, hand on his chest and was about to say something until he saw her face. What he was going to say died on his lips. “Mouse, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  “A drink would be great, please,” she said.

  “Sure, sure,” he said, jumping to his feet and bringing her a drink. She wore a dark coat. Where she’d found it, he had no idea. It hung on her, making her look more like a child than a small woman.

  “Thanks,” she said, and drained the contents, coughing as the liquid settled into her stomach.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded and started emptying the pockets of the coat, spilling idents and bits of paper onto the coffee table.

  Max reached for one and looked at her.

  “Thought they might be useful,” she said woodenly.

  “Mouse, are you okay?” he asked her again.

  She nodded and sucked in a breath. “I will be. Let me get cleaned up.” She shrugged off the coat and let it lie where it fell.

  Ingot gasped.

  The clothes underneath were saturated with blood and gore.

  “Oh, Mouse,” Max said.

  She nodded, letting him know she understood what he meant. “It was either us or them, Max. I’ll be back.” She refilled her glass before slipping into her room.

  Max stared at the door for a few moments, undecided.

  Ingot’s voice stopped him. “I think it best if you leave her to herself, sir.”

  Max raked his fingers through his hair. “Yes, yes, I think you’re right. Thank you Ingot.” He came back and sat across from Ingot.

  They gazed at each other in silence.

  Ingot looked away, down at his hands holding the empty glass. He sniffed loudly.

  “Shall we have another?” Max asked half-rising.

  Ingot cleared his throat. “Please, allow me, sir.” He rose and rummaged around in the small kitchen area. Finding a tray, he set the bottle on the tray and brought it over to the table, where he set it gently between them. He gathered the idents and papers into a neat stack and set them aside.

  “Thank you, Ingot,” Max said. “Just like I’m at home. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “Sir, I—”

  “Why don’t we enjoy our drinks and wait for Mouse?”

  Ingot’s throat worked again, as if he wanted to speak but could not.

  Max sighed. “Work your magic in the kitchen, would you, Ingot? I’m suddenly feeling a bit peckish. Some snacks would be delightful.”

  “Y-yes, sir. At once.” Ingot rose, reached in his pocket, and pulled out
his crumpled handkerchief.

  Max heard him softly blowing his nose while he hurried into the kitchen, where he proceeded to wash his hands and work his magic.

  Mouse, he thought. The memory of her standing in her bloodied clothes rose before him. Her hollow expression swam before his inner eye. Haunted by all those deaths brought about by her hand. No wonder she smiled so seldom.

  “They were trackers. Good trackers,” Mouse said.

  Max turned to look at her where she leaned against her doorframe with her glass half full. Her hair was loose. Damp tendrils curled softly about her face, which still looked haunted, he noted, although there was more color in her cheeks. And she wasn’t wearing her dull greys, but a light powder blue tunic she must have found in Manabu’s closets. “That color is very becoming, Mouse. You should wear it more often.”

  She refilled her glass from the bottle on the coffee table.

  “Sit, Mouse.”

  With a sigh, she plopped down beside him. “If I didn’t kill them, they would have found us. I had to keep us safe.”

  “I know,” he said quietly, “And I am truly sorry.” He put an arm around her and pulled her close, sloshing her drink. “Sorry about that as well, but never mind. Most of it splashed on me. Just rest for a moment.” He let her lean against him, felt the tension leave her body. It pleased him she would take comfort from him, smiled when she sighed.

  Ingot returned with a platter arrayed with odds and ends of things he found to eat in the kitchen, which he set down next to the bottle’s tray. Silently he arranged plates, napkins and knives.

  Mouse sat up when Max removed his arm.

  He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Looks marvelous, Ingot. You transformed our meager larder into a lovely little feast. Shall we all fill our bellies before we discuss recent events?”

  They ate in silence, Max making a show of smacking his lips and licking his fingers.

  Mouse wondered how he could appear so jovial, even as she appreciated his attempts to lighten the mood. The alcohol was working. She could feel it begin to dull her senses. She reached for her glass, choosing the drink over food. Maybe she would be able to sleep.

  Max tossed his napkin onto his plate. With his hands clasped behind his neck he leaned back into the sofa. “Thank you again, Ingot, for the lovely repast. Now I have a full stomach, I feel it’s time we tell one another what we know. I’ll begin.”

  Mouse turned to look at him.

  His tone had changed abruptly.

  Max leaned forward. “I do not appreciate knowing someone I trust with my life hired someone to end said life. If it weren’t for Mouse, here, I’d be dead. I knew it could only be you, Ingot, and my immediate reaction was rage. I almost arranged to return the favor, right then and there.

  “But after I calmed down, I decided to curb my baser instincts, because I wanted to know why. As I told Mouse, I know you. You are nothing if not loyal. Therefore, you were played, maneuvered into position like a puppet. And therefore, there must be a puppet master, if you will, who seeded your loyalty to me with lies. There must be a pretty big reason for you to arrange my death. What was it? And who was it? Surely not anyone on Spur…

  “And for heaven’s sake, cease your weeping and put that sodden thing away. Nobody has died. Nobody will be dying except those who deserve to do so.”

  Ingot sniffed and hiccupped and tucked his handkerchief under the cuff of his sleeve. “Sir, I feel terrible about this.” His voice broke and he sniffed again before continuing in a wobbly voice. “Just terrible. I shall never forgive myself.”

  Max held up a hand. “I know. Now, have a sip of your drink and let’s get to the bottom of this, shall we?”

  Ingot took a long swallow, cleared his throat and began again. “About three months ago, I began to receive messages.”

  “From whom?” Max asked.

  “From the Champion.”

  “Flick?” Mouse asked. “That’s strange. Why would Flick contact you?”

  Ingot shook his head. “No, not Spur’s Champion. The other one. Eloch.”

  “Impossible!” Mouse exclaimed.

  “Doubtful and far-fetched,” Max agreed.

  “That is what I thought,” Ingot said, “In fact, when the first message came across my info console, I laughed and deleted it.”

  “What did it say?” Max asked.

  “That you were undermining Spur’s wishes by rebuilding and strengthening your empire, and if you weren’t careful, there would be another reckoning, worse than the first.”

  Mouse shook her head. “If there was going to be any reckoning, Flick would deliver it, not Eloch.”

  “That is why I ignored the message. And I ignored several others as well,” Ingot said.

  “Why didn’t you bring this to my attention?” Max wanted to know.

  “Because it was preposterous,” Ingot replied.

  “Then why did you start believing it?” Max asked.

  “Because he seemed to know your every decision, and then went on to explain what the result of that decision was, how it affected Spur, how it undermined Spur. He said you weren’t even focused on rebuilding your planet. That all the trade routes you reestablished were for nothing but your personal gain. He started giving facts and,” Ingot paused, “I began to believe them.”

  “I reestablished trade routes because our planet’s people needed them to regain their footing,” Max said. “When Eloch destroyed the Ring, he not only destroyed the Colonizing wing, he destroyed the trade. All rules and regulations of commerce—gone. He destroyed livelihoods. I had to get them back up and running as quickly as possible so people wouldn’t panic. Those who survived were in shock. They needed something to do.”

  “And your network of spies?”

  “Good lord, man, I needed my Eyes! Don’t you understand? Without my Eyes, I was blind to the honest reactions to my new rules and regulations. Lip service and real reports are very different things. I can’t know if I have instituted an unfair rule if I can’t get honest information. I had to make sure the information I was receiving via normal channels wasn’t lip service. If a rule was unfair, it needed to be modified so all parties could benefit.”

  Max’s anger flared. “What kind of man do you take me for? Sure, I’m a businessman, and a greedy one, I admit. Sure, I like building empires and accumulating profit. But Eloch and Wren assigned me an enormous task, one I was taking very seriously.”

  He pointed a finger at Ingot, “And you knew! You knew I was having trouble with saboteurs and mixed messages. We discussed it, and why it was a good idea for me to step away for a while and go help Mouse in Rubble. We thought if I was out of the picture, our enemy would get careless, slip up.” He huffed and folded his arms across his chest. “And when did you decide to take me permanently out of the picture, hmmm?”

  Ingot hung his head. “When Eloch said Spur was going to purge everything connected with you from Her surface.”

  Mouse looked up to the ceiling and groaned. “Gods, you think Spur would actually do that? To someone She personally approved?”

  “It could happen,” Ingot replied in a small voice.

  Mouse leaned closer to Ingot. “Why didn’t you come to me if you felt you couldn’t tell Max about it? Or find Flick?”

  “I-I—”

  “He just didn’t,” Max interrupted. “Let’s move on before he pulls out that soggy bit of cloth again. When did you realize you’d been duped, Ingot?”

  “Shortly after I heard of your death from both Mouse and the assassin, and Frasier came to the house,” Ingot answered.

  “Frasier?” Max asked.

  “The gentleman who brought Mouse to me.”

  “Ah, the stranger has a name. Now we’re getting somewhere. What did this Frasier tell you?”

  “Everything. How he’d been watching me, feeding me bits of information. How he played me,” Ingot dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief, then hastily stuffed it away. “He wanted your code
s, sir, so they could access all your information. Your home became my jail. He made me hire himself and his men, and tell the rest of the staff you had told me to remain inside until you returned.”

  “Set up shop. Planned a takeover,” Max added.

  “Exactly. All they needed were your codes. I kept telling Frasier I didn’t know your codes, but he told me to keep looking. And,” he raised his eyes to Max, “if you and Mouse hadn’t come when you did, I would have uncovered the codes. I felt I was getting close.”

  “They would never have gotten the codes. My office system only works for me. If someone begins to tamper with it, the data corrupts itself. Those codes you were so close to finding, Ingot, would have been incorrect. Anyone using them would be tagged as an intruder. There’s no way a takeover could happen.”

  “Besides, Spur wouldn’t have allowed such a takeover, Ingot,” Mouse said. “We already decided nobody on Spur would go against Max. She would sense someone off-planet.”

  “Not if they were originally from Her, Mouse. Colonizers’ descendants,” Max said.

  “But the cross-breeding. Wouldn’t Spur sense they weren’t purebloods?”

  “A very keen observation, My Mouse. And we’ve narrowed down the puppet master’s—the mastermind’s—planet. Talamh. All I need is to capture this Frasier and confirm it.”

  “Why Talamh?” Mouse asked.

  “Because,” supplied Ingot, “the first people of Talamh refuse to breed with the colonizers. They keep to themselves. No one even sees them.”

  Mouse frowned. “I thought the Ring captured, culled, or tamed all the first peoples of the planets they colonized.”

  “Propaganda, Mouse,” Max said. “Talamh’s first people wanted nothing to do with the colonizers. They vanished like ghosts, and the colonizers woke one morning surrounded by a rather large barrier, reminiscent of Spur, no? We still know the first peoples live on the planet, suspect they live underground. Since they don’t bother the colonies, they’re left alone. Too much of an expense to hunt for them. Expense. It’s always the bottom line, isn’t it?”