Crossways (35 page)

He'd given Danniri Benjamin's kill code. Carlinni's had come from Akiko Yamada. She'd been eager to get it for him as soon as he let slip that Cara had accessed van Blaiden's handpad.

No one knew what information might have been on there. Handpads were generally coded with permanent and living files. The permanent files remained after death or detachment. The living files automatically erased in the event the handpad was forcibly removed or if the power source, the body's own electrical energy, died. There was a very short window of opportunity between death and dissipation of the body's natural power supply.

The thought of what might be on that handpad ate at him. Until Benjamin, Carlinni, and all the psi-techs from the Olyanda mission were taken care of, he couldn't relax. He fingered the small device in his right-hand pocket. The only way he'd been able to get Benjamin's kill code onto a handheld device was to have it uniquely embedded into a one-time-use implant-killer. The one in his left-hand pocket was Carlinni's. If either of them evaded Danniri and got too close to him, he had the ultimate weapon. All he had to do was to get line of sight.

Ricky had a flotilla of butterflies in his tummy. He'd tried to cultivate Minnow's sympathy and to a large extent he thought he'd managed it. The big man was noticeably more friendly and relaxed than any of the other guards. He'd
even brought him another tube of skin gel when Ricky had showed him the blister on his foot wasn't healing as well as it should, largely due to Ricky picking off the scab and rubbing it raw again.

The skin gel had done its job. Nan had been conscious for three days, and by the third day her psi ability had returned. Ricky had hoped for a miracle, but when nothing happened he was forced to admit that if anyone had tried to contact Nan they had probably given up by now.

Nan was a marvelous actress, but there was no point in wasting the second tube of skin gel until they had a better chance of getting out. They discussed the possibilities and Nan had admitted that Ricky's plan was probably the best chance they had.

“You're going to have to do it all by yourself,” she'd said.

“I know. I'm not scared.”

“Aren't you?”

“Maybe. Just a bit.”

“It's all right to be scared,” Nan had said. “It means you won't take stupid risks. But when it comes time to act, don't let the fear freeze you.”

“How do I stop it?”

“You give yourself a moment to let it have its way, then you count to three and tell it to get lost. It doesn't control you.”

“And does that work?”

“Always.”

Now Ricky was going to try something a lot more dangerous than picking off a scab. He had the used blast pack hidden under the edge of Nan's mattress. If he could swap the used one for the fresh one in Minnow's right pocket he'd have a single dose of anesthetic. Surely if he could catch one of the guards unawares he could use it to knock him out. Maybe not Minnow, he was too big and the drug would take longer to work. Maybe the scrawny man who'd never let his name slip and who rarely answered questions. He was probably half Minnow's weight so the drug would work faster—he hoped.

He scrubbed at his eyes to make them red, as if he'd been crying, took the blast pack from the bed and palmed it. His heart was beating like thunder. What had Nan said? Count to three and shove the fear away. One, two, three.

He was ready when the door lock bleeped. By the time
Minnow came in with the tray of mush for Nan's evening meal he was sitting on the floor, head in hands, looking about as low as he could.

“What's up, Ricky-boy?” Minnow kicked the door shut and put the tray down on the table. “I got you a bar of choc. Figured every kid loves choc.”

That was Ricky's opening. He jumped up and hugged Minnow around the waist, lurching into him so that he spun him with his right side away from the eye on the wall. “Minnow, you're my only friend. No one else even talks to me.” He let his voice break and managed what he hoped were pretty convincing sobs into Minnow's jacket front.

“Aww, Ricky. This ain't going to last forever. You'll soon be out of here.” Minnow hugged him back.

Yes, that was just what Ricky had been waiting for. He dipped his fingers into Minnow's right pocket and substituted the used blast pack for the fully charged one, then pulled away from Minnow's embrace.

“Sorry. Just feeling a bit helpless, you know. With Nan so . . .” He nodded toward the bed. “It's like she's dead.”

“Oh, no, boy, she ain't dead.”

“What's going to happen to us?”

“Truth, boy, I don't know. Danniri don't tell us much, but her regular squad is hanging around all the time.”

“Are they watching us all the time, on that?” Ricky pointed to the camera eye.

Minnow dropped his voice. “Well, we do that, but truth to tell you two are pretty boring, 'specially at night.”

“So if I want to take a dump in private I should wait until night and you might not be watching?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Thanks. It doesn't get any easier, having the san-unit on camera, you know.”

“I guess not. Good thing your granny's not aware of it, right?”

“Yeah, good thing.”

Minnow raised the head of the bed to sit Nan up, then watched Ricky spoon the nutri-paste into her mouth. Between them they put her on the potty. She was completely compliant.

Sorry, Nan, Ricky thought, but the alternative was even worse.

Then Minnow slapped the empty blast pack to the side of Nan's neck and dropped it into his left pocket.

After Minnow left, Ricky hid the fully charged blast pack under the mattress and sat on the bed so he shielded Nan's face from the camera eye. She looked up at him and winked. They had plans to make.

Cara fought down her nerves as the liner landed at Arkhad Spaceport and spat them all out into the immigration lineup. The only way to get through this was to relax into the part of the new identity. Believe it. Otherwise the Empaths employed to do random checks might pick out a sense of unease and start asking too many questions.

Cara looked at them all. It was amazing what a difference a few simple formine injections and a new haircut made. Bronsen's cap of tight curls had given way to a severe tonsure that made him look bald except for a fringe of close-cropped hair around the back and sides. Archie had exchanged his normal mouse-brown for ginger everything, and Ronan's skin had been darkened to copper, his luxuriant mop bleached blond and his lips thickened.

“Have we all got the details straight?” Cara asked.

Archie said he could handle it, but Bronsen had been nervous until Ronan had given him something to calm him down.

They got through without a hitch, thanks to Mother Ramona's careful work and their thorough immersion in their new characters. Once out of the spaceport they headed straight for the nearest dockside bar, still quiet at this time in a morning, and ordered beer all around, though Ronan wouldn't let Bronsen have more than a sip of his until the sedative wore off.

Cara contacted Hilde. All of the mercs had receiving implants, but only a handful were true psi-techs. Hilde was a Psi-3 Telepath.

*I'm good to go whenever you are,*
Hilde said.
*I put Lorin on a shuttle to New Rio. Where she goes from there is her own business, but I advised her to make it somewhere she can get lost and settle down with her bank account for company.*

But when Cara contacted Tengue it was a different story.
*We're being watched,*
he said.
*We got through immigration with a few awkward questions. Fowler's in the burn unit. She had her surgery and she's doing well. We can give 'em the slip as soon as we need to, but not until we need to, otherwise they'll get suspicious.*

“So we'll have to do the recce ourselves,” Ronan said.

“The sooner the better.” Cara drained her beer. “Drink up, let's go.”

They checked into a cheap hotel, once quite plush, but now showing signs of age and neglect. Maybe it had once had a name but it didn't now. All it said on the sign outside was “Rooms.”

“I've been here before,” Archie said. “Not
here
here, but places like it.”

“Even smells familiar,” Bronsen said.

Cara wrinkled her nose. “Well, it's got a functioning link, plumbing, and beds without fleas. That's a plus in a place like this.”

They hit the link.

“There's a grapple match tomorrow evening,” Ronan said. “The semifinal. It means there will be more people around than usual and tickets for tourists. It's probably the best opportunity we'll get.”

“For a recce or the job?” Archie asked.

“Maybe both,” Cara said. “We might not get a second chance.”

“I'm going to try Nan one more time.” Cara closed her eyes and put the image of Nan upfront, then let her thoughts roam.

*Cara! Is that you?*

*Nan! You're all right?*

*If you can call going stir-crazy all right. We're in the grapple arena—underneath it, anyway.*

*We're coming to get you.*

*Ben?*

*Driving the getaway bus. He's all right.*

*I never considered he wouldn't be. What's happened?*

*It's a long story. How are you?*

*Broken leg and I've been completely immobile. I'm not going to be fast on my feet.*

*Understood. Ricky?*

*Very resourceful. Managed to drug-proof my neck with
a tube of skin gel.*
Nan got right down to business.
*We're underground, not right down at the bottom level. Ricky managed to get a look outside. We're close to an antigrav shaft, but we don't know whether it's active or not. There's a long corridor with solid double doors to one side of us and on the other a corner with steps, an antigrav shaft, and a comm station on the wall. We get two visits a day from our keepers, but we have a camera eye in the room. Ricky got some information, though. The guards are all on an upper level and though they're supposed to watch us all the time from the control room, they think we're boring and they have a running card game to pass the time.*

*Good one. Stand by. There's a grapple game tomorrow evening. That's when we'll come.*

*Hello.*

*Hello, yourself.*
Ben sat back in the booth of the Blue Mountain coffee shop and smiled. Though he was drinking tea, the smell reminded him strongly of Cara's preferences.
*Where are you?*
he asked.

*A poxy little flophouse on the edge of the port. 95 Cityside,*
Cara said.

*Cityside, huh? Watch your back.*

*Don't worry.*

*News?*

*I've made contact with your Nan.*

Ben discovered it was possible to feel elation and sick apprehension at the same time.

*How is she? Ricky?*

*Both fine, though your Nan's got a broken leg that's only half-healed and she's been drugged. Ricky managed to figure a way around that.*