Alien Eyes (14 page)

David shrugged. “I'm not putting anything in writing. But the McCallum killing seals it. Arnold, for one, is a worthy target. But, it's the same old story. Go public too early, we could wind up looking stupid later on.”

“Or keep it quiet, and look like we're burying it.”

David nodded. He looked back out the window.

Halliday watched him for a long drawn-out moment. “Anything you want to discuss?”

David shook his head.

Halliday glanced around the room. “Anyone else?”

No one said anything.

“Meeting's over,” Halliday said. He crooked a finger at David, then Mel. “In my office, guys.”

David waited until everyone began filing out. He edged close to Ash. “What do you think? You think these killings are political?”

Ash slid backward, and dropped the string of paper clips he held. “Is too much coincidence, Detective. Victims involved with Guardians. All with Guardians. Only question—”

“Yes?”

“I might speculate that such as these would go for the Angel Eyes. More
prime
target.”

David frowned. “That could backfire. Make her a martyr.”

“Please to explain?”

“A martyr, a figure of sympathy, a … never mind. You see that Elaki out there?”

Ash rippled his bottom fringe and swerved downward and sideways to look out the window David had to crane his neck to see out of.

“You know that Elaki?” David asked. “Any idea why she stands there all the time?”

“No ssssir.”

David stretched and rubbed the back of his neck, moving back in front of the window. The old Elaki was swaying rhythmically. David frowned. This had gone on long enough.

TWENTY-THREE

David was reminded of a horse he'd tried to approach when he was a little boy. The horse had been pastured, and he'd climbed up on the bottom slat of the wood fence, and leaned over the top. He couldn't have been more than six years old. His father had given him a piece of carrot, showing him how to hold it out on the flat of his hand.

The horse had tossed his head and trotted steadily toward the fence, lips peeling back from strong yellow teeth. It had taken all David's courage to keep that hand out, waiting for the touch of wet, velvety lips.

David watched the Elaki with the same sense of nervous fascination.

People gave her a respectful berth without seeming to notice her. Her lime scent was strong in the heat, mingling with the odor of exhaust and hot oily pavement. String had told him at least once that to speak first to such an elder was a terrible breach of etiquette.

David stopped, close enough to touch. The Elaki wobbled back and forth on her bottom fringe, and he expected her to crumple to the sidewalk at any moment.

A woman in overalls and a ball cap, the back of her hair cut in a divot, glanced at David, frowned, and looked away. A hundred yards down the road, a boy glanced over his shoulder as he walked behind a man with a briefcase. The boy, David decided, was after the briefcase.

David stayed put.

The sun was high. He felt sweat break out on the back of his neck. Did Elaki sweat?

The Elaki turned slowly, sunlight glinting in her scales. Her inner belly coloring was splotchy and yellowish. She had raw patches where scales had dropped off and not grown back.

David took a breath. There were scars on her belly, near the breathing slits, a fine white web of scars that looked like lace. He had seen scars like that before. On Angel Eyes.

One of the Elaki's eye stalks was cloudy and unfocused. The other swiveled his way.

“Ah.” The Elaki emitted a long, whistling noise.

Elaki stress, David thought. He considered turning around and dashing back to his office.

“I beg your pardon,” David said.

“At last.” The Elaki spoke slowly, voice faint.

“Every day I see you stand here,” David said. “I was wondering if you need help.”

“You are police official?”

“Detective Silver. David Silver.”

“It has taken much time. I need to speak with a police official. A
human
police official. A detective is this thing?”

“Yes,” David said.

“I am missing someone who should be here is not to be found. Are you the finder?”

“Let's go up to my office,” David said. “Get you out of the sun. Let you sit down.”

The Elaki arched her back. “Elaki do not sit.”

“Come inside anyway,” David said.

They took the elevator. Stairs were awkward for Elaki. David wasn't sure the elder could handle stairs.

She moved like she had a palsy—shedding scales, quivering and skittering on her belly scales. The elevator was slow. The Elaki stayed to one side, and everyone else boarding kept their distance, crowding David to the back. He took slow, even breaths. Someone on the elevator was wearing perfume that smelled like grape soda. David realized he hadn't had lunch.

The door slid open, and the Elaki moved serenely through the precinct, canted to one side, stiff but graceful. David glanced into the captain's office as he walked by. He saw Mel through the glass partition, and remembered that he was supposed to be there, too.

The Elaki stopped moving and focused an eye stalk. She twitched. David saw that she was leaning toward Ash, Walker, and Thinker, who stood at their station, conferring in muted voices.

“Izicho,” she said. Coldly.

“No,” said David. “Police officers.”

“Elaki police officers are Izicho.”

“These are human-type police officers.”

The eye stalk swiveled his way. “
These
are humans? Detective?”

Walker hissed. “Not
Izicho
.”

The old Elaki moved with sudden, disturbing intensity. “Young one,” she said, voice stronger than David had heard it. “You are out of your manners.”

Walker skittered backward. David stopped and watched. As did everyone else in the bullpen.

“Young one,” the Elaki said again. “You are disgraced.”

Ash and Thinker moved away from Walker. Ash turned his back. As did Thinker.

“Beg pardon.” Walker swayed from side to side.

“Remove.”

Walker made an odd noise, and slid from the room.

“I had a math teacher like you once,” David muttered.

“Please to repeat.”

“I said please, um, stand here, where you'll be comfortable. Where I hope you'll be comfortable. Can I get you anything?”

“Sushi?”

“Um, no, sorry. We don't have that. Coffee?”

“Cinnamon coffee? Elaki coffee?”

“Just regular. But we've got cream and sugar.”

“Some cream please,” the Elaki said.

“No coffee?”

“Cream.”

Della was watching from her desk. “You want me to get it?” She was grinning.

“Please,” David said.

“It's nondairy cream,” Della said to the Elaki. Her voice was sweet and respectful. “That's all we got.”

“That will be most pleasant,” the Elaki said. David had the feeling she was humoring them.

He sat on the edge of his desk, noticing how dusty it was, the surface littered with computer printouts, file folders, and two cups half full of cold, old coffee. One of the cups had lipstick on the rim. David glanced at Della, but her back was to him.

David sat up straighter. He was not at eye level with the old Elaki, but she didn't hover over him quite as much as she would if he'd taken the chair. He pictured Angel Eyes, bending at the middle. Angel Eyes. Did she know where Dahmi was?

“What exactly are you missing?” David said.

“My pouchling.”

David felt his stomach tense. “You have pouchlings?”

“Only the one.”

“How long?”

“How long I have the pouchling?”

“How long has your young one been missing?”

“Hard to say. Is full grown and is …” The Elaki hesitated. “Is Izicho. But not here for work. Coming here to escape the chemaki.”

“Ma'am?” Della handed the Elaki a brown paper cup.

David scooted to the edge of the desk and leaned surreptitiously forward till he could see into the cup. It was half full of nondairy creamer. The Elaki took a delicate pinch of the powdery white cream, the lace work of scars flexing. She had much the same attitude, David thought, as he had when one of his daughters invited him to a pretend tea party.

More regal, David thought, but gracious.

“Please to understand my pouchling is grown. Male, name of Calii. Calii, you should be informed, is Izicho. To my shame.”

David cocked his head sideways, wondering what she meant.

“He did not come home to me when he was summoned. This not happen right. Something be very wrong. Cannot find Calii. Calii is gone missing.”

David wondered how he would word this in the computer file. If he did a file. He folded his arms.

“When was the last time you saw him? You did say him?”

“But yes.” The Elaki was silent for a long moment. “How you count this? Would be the years. Eight of the years.”

“But—” David frowned. Elaki had not been on Earth more than four years. “
Where
did you see him?”

“Home. Home planet.”

“What planet is he on now?”

“If I know, I not be here. He should be on home planet. But not answer my death summons. I dying. He not come. Last communication he come here. He not return. I do not understand, so I do
not
die. I come looking.”

It was good Elaki did not marry, David thought. What a Mother-One-in-law she would be. David cleared his throat.

“Let me make sure I have this right. Your son—your pouchling. You haven't seen him for eight years. You thought you were dying.”

“I
was
dying.”

“And you summoned him. Right so far?”

“But yes.”

“And he didn't come.”

“No.”

“So you were worried, and have been looking for him.”

“Yes.”

“Why here? Earth?”

“He was to come here. On point of departure. But word is did not arrive. Is some confusion. Regulations say he leave, but not come.”

“He left your home planet, but didn't arrive on Earth?”

“Good boy.”

David glanced over his shoulder at Della. She gave him a blank, innocent look.

“Why did you come to Earth looking for him?” David asked.

“Because him not home.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“That is … let me to think on you terms. Please a moment.” The Elaki quivered on her bottom fringe, incapable of stillness. “Tuesday-day of the month fourteen, last season.”

David swallowed. “Of … of this year?”

“But yes.” The Elaki sounded weary, impatient. “I have wait much time to tell you of this. How much wait until you find?”

“Your son, your pouchling, is Izicho?”

“Yes. This matters?”

“I don't know. You never know what details will come in handy.”

“Ah. The scatter-fact approach. Most appealing to human. Does this method yield?”

“Sometimes,” David said. “Ma'am … um, what is your name?”

“You may call me—”

“Patience?” David asked.

“That would be acceptable.”

David gritted his teeth. “I need your Elaki name. Please.”

“It is Yahray.”

“Yahray,” David repeated.

“
Yahray
.”

David nodded. “Yes. Tell me, ma'am. What kind of relationship did you have with Calii?”

The Elaki made a noise. She spoke slowly. “
He-was-my-pouchling
.”

“Yes,” David said. “But you haven't seen him for eight years—is that right?”

The Elaki's midsection sagged. “That is correct, Detective David.”

“That's a long time,” David said gently. “Did you have a falling out?”

“Falling out of what?”

David glanced around the precinct. Where was String? Ash still had his back turned. Thinker—ever savvy—was out of sight. David crooked his finger. Ash did not appear to understand the gesture.

He tried again. “Why haven't you seen Calii for so long? Are there bad feelings between you?”

“Ah. Yes, I fear the politics would intrude. My pouchling most brilliant, and raised just so. And will still become Izicho.”

“Are you a Guardian, Yahray?”

The Elaki spoke softly. “But yes. I was the most active political. My Calii was brought up in the middle of the exciting times. He is too young to have the bad memories.”

David glanced at the scars on her midsection.

“I most distressed when he become Izicho. The betrayal, you call it?”

David nodded.

“What does this mean, this movement of the head?”

“It means yes.”

“Say yes, then.”

“Is it possible, Yahray, that Calii does not want to be found?”

David caught a movement from the corner of his eye. String. Thank God. His Elaki partner, ragged-looking as ever, moved silently toward them.

The old Elaki stiffened beneath her scales. David expected her to hiss, but she did not. String stopped, but said nothing. There was a long, tense silence.

“Good of the day,” Yahray said, at last. “Forgive my impertinence. But you
are
Izicho.”

String swept sideways, and teetered on his fringe. “I am Izicho, most Mother-One. Forgive
my
impertinence. I believe I know of you. You are Yahray?”

“Do not tell me what I know, young one.”

Young one? David gave String a second look.

“I do not wish to extrude,” String said. “Is there assistance required?”

“This human does not understand. Calii—my only pouchling—summoned to final rites for Mother-One. Did not appear. The human does not understand the significance.”

String waved a fin. “It is to be unthinkable.”