Elite: A Hunter novel (43 page)

They all eyed the Shinje-and-Ace bundle with varying degrees of startlement and bewilderment. “That’s—a Hound?” the sergeant finally asked.

“Anything that looks like rainbow rope is, yes,” I confirmed. “The rest is the prisoner.”

They looked the situation, and Ace, up and down for a while, trying to decide how to proceed, because the mud and the rain were certainly going to complicate getting him back to a secure pod on the other side of the Barrier. Ace’s eyes were dilated. I couldn’t tell if it was from fear, insanity, or rage. Maybe all three. Shinje seemed highly amused. Myrrdhin and Gwalchmai were on the alert for the faintest hint of trouble from their former master. I got the distinct feeling they’d have been perfectly pleased to murder him themselves. Or at least, sink their teeth into him and shake until I ordered them to let him go.

Oh, that was tempting….

“Well, I have an idea. Can you get your Hound to give me a way to his neck?” the medic asked finally. Shinje obligingly moved tentacles and bared Ace’s neck on the left side; the medic murmured his thanks and went in with a hypospray. In a couple of minutes, Ace’s eyes lost focus, and his legs started to buckle until Shinje reconfigured himself to add some support. “That’s a powerful hypnotic; it’s safe to let him go at this point,” the medic said. “He couldn’t spellcast his way out of a wet paper bag now, but we’ll still be able to get him to the other side under his own power.”

Shinje gingerly unwrapped Ace, who appeared to be utterly unaware of his surroundings now. He swayed where he stood, as two APD supported him on either side. He let the APD put him into a straitjacket and strap his arms down, demonstrating nothing but complete docility.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to get him back all right?” I asked worriedly. After all, he’d escaped once—

“There’s a secure pod waiting for us on the other side of the Barrier,” the sergeant assured me. “And once we get him there, the medic has enough tranqs and hypnotics to sedate a Drakken. But you’re right: we should take every possible precaution with him. Give us an escort to the pylon door, keep your eyes peeled for Othersiders making a last-minute try for him, and once we have him on the other side of the Barrier, we’ll get him out of your hair.”

Well, that was just fine with us; we did exactly that, keeping our Shield up, most of the Hounds outside it, running scout. Dusana stayed in the Shield with all four of Knight’s Hounds keeping eyes on Ace at all times, until we reached the base of the pylon and the door in it. There, the APD squad stuffed Ace through and loaded him straight into the secure pod. Their sergeant came back and took his leave of us, and we went back to mopping up whatever small fry came our way.

There was no definitive “end” to this fight; eventually the field commanders decided that there were no more open Portals, that every Othersider of any note was either dead or disappeared, and whatever creatures were left could be dealt with when the storm was over if they were stupid enough to stick around. There was no way choppers were going to be able to fly, and the storm didn’t look as if it was going to end for another eight to twelve hours, so we all trudged back across the Barrier using the doors in the pylons. By “we,” I mean the Hunters. The Psimons were still on the “safe” side of the Barrier, just as they had been the last time—although they looked pretty unhappy about it. They might not have been knee-deep in mud, but there wasn’t anything keeping the rain off them. The army had brought in troop carriers from the combat side of the Barrier to bring their people here, and they would use the same means to take them back to the base.

As for us, we lucked out; by virtue of the fact that we were closest to our pylon, we got to exit first. “My god,” said Souxie while we filed out of the door onto grass instead of mud and saw the transport pods lined up on the road, waiting to take us home. “It’s over. We lived!”

“We did,” Hammer agreed as Glyphs hit the grass and the Hounds leapt gratefully through the Way to get back to whatever it was
they
called home. I hoped there was something like hot baths and soft beds waiting for them over there. “And I don’t think the Othersiders are going to try that again.”

“So may it be,” I murmured, and followed the others at a tired trot for the pods.

ACE SAT IN A chair in an otherwise bare gray interrogation room, behind one-way mirror. There were a couple of medics in the room with him. They were very good at their jobs. Even better was the Psimon that was behind the one-way mirror, standing next to Uncle.

That Psimon was, of course, Abigail Drift, the Psimon in charge of all of PsiCorps.

I stood on the other side of
another
pane of one-way mirror, watching and listening to both of them. Their voices came through a speaker in the wall, tinny but clear enough. I was wearing the strongest Psi-shield ever made, turned on to a level so high that I actually felt it, as if someone had wrapped my brain inside a dozen layers of wool batting. If Abigail Drift knew I was here, she had to be superhuman. If she was sensitive enough and paying attention to what was behind her, she might realize there was
someone
here, just by the interference pattern the Psi-shield was making, but she would never be able to tell it was me. I was here at Uncle’s invitation and without anyone else’s knowledge. So far as anyone else was concerned, I was waiting for Uncle in his inner office, scheduled to have lunch with him in the Sky Lounge.

One of the medics kept Ace pumped full of hypnotics; the other read him questions off a touch pad. Abigail Drift had a matching touch pad; I assume she was the one supplying the questions. Ace’s voice came through a speaker in the wall too, but it didn’t matter what he said. The hypnotics guaranteed he could not keep
his
thoughts blocked, and Abigail Drift was here to read them for herself.

They’d been spending the last half hour establishing the correct level of drugs in his system and asking a lot of questions we already knew the answers to, in order to give Drift a sort of baseline to work from. I tensed because now we were going to get to the questions that I was most interested in. The medic cleared his throat and began. “Were you responsible for the presence of the vampire within the storm sewer tunnels that ambushed and killed Hunter Karly?”

Ace just laughed at him. Drift frowned.

“Well?” Uncle demanded. “Did he—”

“It’s complicated,” Drift interrupted irritably. “Give me a moment.”

I frowned too. “It’s complicated” was not an answer I had expected. How could it be “complicated”? Either he had gotten that fang-face into the tunnel, intending it to attack
me,
or he hadn’t.

The medic tried again. “Did you arrange for the vampire to be in that section of tunnels?”

Ace mumbled something that didn’t quite make it through two sets of speakers, but Drift gave an abrupt nod. “As I said, it’s complicated,” she repeated. “Ace did not personally plant the monster in the tunnels, nor did he smuggle it past the Prime Barrier. He
did
know that
something
unpleasant would be planted there because he transmitted Hunter Joyeaux’s scheduling information to someone.”

“Transmitted
how
?” Uncle asked sharply. “Every frequency transmitting into and out of Hunter HQ is closely monitored! And outside of the HQ, every moment of a Hunter’s activities is recorded!”

“Who were you working with when you attempted to murder Hunter Joyeaux at her Trials?” the medic continued.

“Yes, well…if you find a way to monitor psychic transmissions, I would very much like to hear about it,” Drift replied dryly. “Because, according to what is in his memory, he ‘transmitted’ it by thinking about it, while he was patrolling.”

Uncle’s face was unreadable. Drift’s was more than unreadable; she looked like a wax sculpture.

“Now, if you would be so kind,
shut up,
Charmand,” Drift continued. “I’m following memory traces and I don’t need any distraction.”

I held as still as ever I had while stalking my prey on the Mountain. If Drift could be trusted to tell us the truth—if Ace’s partner had been a Psimon, she probably would never tell us—

But there’s the problem. It might have been a Psimon, but it might not have been,
I could not help thinking. Because Folk had psionic powers too. And we didn’t know how strong they were. Could they read thoughts from outside the Barriers? Maybe. Hadn’t I been perfectly prepared to believe they could pick up mere thoughts about them from the playgoers watching
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
?

“It seems,” Drift said, her voice curiously uninflected, “that his first contact with this…unknown…occurred while he was taking a little excursion to a private party outside the Prime Barrier, shortly after your niece arrived and began making such a splash. The excursion was authorized, a ‘fan service’ visit to one of his admirers who possessed a highly protected and fortified villa and vineyard out there. Ostensibly, this was a simple meet and greet, but there was psionic contact with an unknown person that Ace obviously did not bother to report. There was a suggestion that if Ace’s position as number one in the rankings was seriously challenged, the contactor was prepared to help him reestablish himself. Ace assumed the contact was either from one of the guests who had hidden Psi-talents, or from a Psimon in the employ of one of the guests. Knowing what we know now, however…”

Uncle nodded. “It could have been a human with Psi-talents. Or it could have been one of the Folk.”

Drift made some notes on the pad. The medics continued to question Ace. Drift concentrated on following Ace’s thoughts, which were surely wandering at this point. “Ace was subject to several more attempts at contact, all of them when he was away from your HQ, and all of them when he was Hunting solo or visiting wealthy or otherwise important fans. He ignored them, although he did not report them; my sense is that he was waiting for a…” She paused. “A ‘better offer.’ I am not sure what a ‘better offer’ would be, and I’m not sure he had anything concrete in mind. However, once his brother died, he answered the next attempt that was made at contact. That was when he transmitted Hunter Joyeaux’s schedule.”

Uncle nodded. “I think we can deduce the rest, although I would like you to confirm the deduction, Drift.”

“That when the initial attempt failed, and Joyeaux elected to attempt the Elite Trials, Ace transmitted this as well, and instructions were given him as to how to proceed at the Trials themselves.” Drift’s mouth thinned into a hard, angry line. “I do see him acquiring the laser himself, however, though he was told where it would be and how to conceal it on his person. So there was never a point of physical contact between himself and his associate.”

“Convenient,” Uncle said dryly.

Convenient for Ace? Or convenient for Drift?
Would one of the Folk even know what a laser was? We tended not to use them against Othersiders, since they healed up too fast from any injury that wasn’t caused by iron or steel.

“Then, once he was imprisoned, the contacts continued,” Drift went on, ignoring, at least outwardly, any implications in Uncle’s comment. “And before you ask, he was unable to tell if this was the same person over and over, or two or more people. The memory he has is of a mental voice with no suggestion of gender, and no images at all. That was how his escape was arranged. And at that point, the Folk he was with spoke to him directly. So he was never able to tell which one of them—if any—was his patron.”

It didn’t have to be a Psimon
or
a Folk Mage,
I thought to myself.
There’s no reason why it couldn’t have been both. Working together.
But I had no proof, other than the fact that I really disliked Abigail Drift in particular and Psimons in general.

Uncle gave me a little hand signal that told me I should go back to his office and wait for him there. Although I was really curious to hear what else was forthcoming, I obeyed, using the private elevator, a couple of barely used corridors, and a secret back door to get from the interrogation rooms to the office without encountering anyone. So when he returned—without Drift, I was happy to see—I was where I was “supposed” to be.

He was rubbing the back of his neck as he entered. “I sometimes think I wear a Psi-shield around Drift as much to irritate her as to keep her out of my head.” He chuckled, motioning for me to remain seated. “She really, truly hates being around people she can’t read. Here.” He handed me a memory stick. “The recording of the session with Ace and the recording of Drift and myself are both on there. If you catch anything I didn’t, let me know through Kent. Otherwise, erase it when you’re sure you have everything you want to know.”

“Then I’d never erase it,” I pointed out. “Because what I want to know is probably not on there. I’ll erase it when I’ve memorized it.”

Uncle sat down at his desk and took care of a few things while I fast-forwarded to where he’d sent me away, but I didn’t learn anything. Drift was angry and evasive and gave away nothing. Ace rambled like someone talking in his sleep. I sighed and pulled the stick out of my Perscom and tucked it into a pocket sewn—by me, and by hand—into the inside of my tunic.