Hunt the Heavens: Book Two of the Shadow Warrior Trilogy (8 page)

“You didn’t see anything,” Oriz advised.

“Of course not,” Wolfe agreed.

• • •

“Mister Trang, what’s our destination?” Wolfe said.

“Offaly 18,” the ship’s officer said. “Not that it should matter to you. There’ll be no leave granted, which is Mister Kakara’s general policy, even his wife.

“Sorry, buster. You don’t get the Grand Tour on his credits.”

• • •

“Since you like white wine, Mrs. Kakara, here’s something you might not be aware of.”

“Oh?” Rita pretended interest.

“It’s a Château Felipe, from Rice XIX. Not that dry, very fruity, a bit of — ”

The man beside her grabbed a handful of mixed nuts from the bowl on the bar, picked up his drink, and left.

“We’re playing it by ear,” Wolfe said. “I’m going to try to take you off as soon as we land. Do what I tell you, when I tell it to you. Wear shoes you can run in, clothes that won’t stand out.
Don’t
bring any baggage or a big handbag. No more jewelry than you usually wear.”

“The only thing I want out of this nightmare is me,” Rita said. “And you don’t have to worry that I’m going to behave like some flip-headed porcelain doll. I’ll carry my own weight.”

Wolfe nodded once. “Sorry. I
was
selling you … and Cormac … short.”

• • •

“Open the mike to Taen.”
Wolfe spoke in Al’ar.

“I am listening,”
the Al’ar said.

“Here is what passes for a plan. It does not appear we shall be able to get the person we want away from the ship. Nor will I be permitted to leave. The best idea my brain provides is that we bring the
Grayle
in directly behind the
Laurel
as it’s on final approach. Find out what dock it’s going to be landed at, then put some covering fire down, while the woman and I — ”

“Don’t even breathe heavy,” a voice behind him said.

Wolfe spun.

The door to his compartment was open. Standing in it were Oriz and two other men. Oriz held a blaster leveled on Joshua’s chest.

Oriz stepped forward, ripped the bonemike off Wolfe’s chest, and smashed it with a bootheel.

“It appears you aren’t nearly as cute as you think you are, hey?”

Kakara hit Wolfe in the side of the head with the flat of a blaster, considered a moment, then hit him again.

Joshua’s knees buckled, and he sagged back against the bulkhead. The right side of his face was a mask of blood.

He forced himself erect.

There were five others in the lavish suite: Kakara, Oriz, two bodyguards, and the ship’s first officer, Trang.

“You aren’t the first who’s tried to pull something,” Kakara said. “And I’m real sure you aren’t going to be the last.

“What was the scheme? Who were you talking to?”

Wolfe didn’t answer. Kakara started to hit him again, then turned to the officer.

“Trang, are you
sure
there’s no other ships within range?”

“Yessir. We checked all frequencies, all wavelengths. Nothing.”

“Then who the hell was he talking to? Somebody on the ship?”

“Unlikely,” the sailor answered. “That’s a long-range transmitter he was using. Maybe, if it hadn’t gotten smashed, I could’ve figured out something from whatever frequency it was set on. But …” He didn’t finish.

The door slid open and Rita Kakara entered. She saw Wolfe’s swollen face, masked her reaction.

“Rita, get out of here,” Kakara said. “This isn’t for you.”

“Why not? Whatever this man wanted to do … wouldn’t it have involved me? I want to watch whatever happens to him.”

“You think you do now,” Oriz said. “But you won’t in a little bit.”

“Shut up, Jack. Rita can stay if she wants,” Kakara said. “But I don’t want to hear you sniveling to show him any mercy. The son of a bitch — and his friends — wouldn’t have shown us any.”

He hefted the gun and stepped toward Wolfe, then stopped. “Jack. Let me borrow your penknife.”

Oriz took a small, ivory-bolstered knife from his pocket, opened it, and handed it to Kakara.

The shipline owner grinned, showing all his teeth. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Taylor, you ever see what a knife — a little bitty knife like this one — can do?

“I grew up hard, in the yards. The macs liked blades. Kept their women in hand. I saw what can be done … when you work slowly enough. Anyone’ll tell … or do … anything.”

He licked his lips, set the pistol down on a table, and walked toward Joshua.

The Lumina warmed against Joshua’s skin.

Wolfe’s form wavered, vanished.

Trang shouted surprise.

The air blurred, and Wolfe was there, heel hand striking Kakara on the forehead. He stumbled back against the table, sending the pistol spinning to the deck.

Trang took three fast steps to the door; he was reaching for its control, when Wolfe knocked him down with a spin-kick and moved on, without finishing him.

A gun went off, and part of a bulkhead sizzled, charred.

Oriz had a hand inside his jacket, reaching for his gun. Joshua slammed into him, and he crashed into his two henchmen.

Joshua was turning, inside their guard. A backhand rapped one of the men between the eyes; the man squealed and fell, both hands trying to put his face back together, gun dropping, forgotten.

The second man jumped back, let Oriz go down, and was in a fighting stance. Joshua snap-kicked, took him in the elbow. The man yelped, grabbed himself, took a knuckle-strike to the temple, and fell.

Oriz was scrabbling for his gun when Rita kicked him in the side. He grunted, rolled away.

Rita had his gun in both hands.

Kakara had come back to his feet. Rita was between Wolfe and her husband. Oriz pulled himself up.

“Rita! Give me the gun,” Kakara snapped.

“I’ll get it. She won’t shoot,” Oriz said.

The heavyset man had taken two steps when Rita shot him in the throat, blowing most of his spine into white fragments against the bulkhead. His head flopped once, and he fell forward.

The gun turned, and its bell-mouth held steady on Jalon Kakara.

He lifted two hands, trying to push death away.

“No.”

Wolfe’s voice was soft.

Rita didn’t move. She looked at Joshua, then back at Kakara. Her finger was firm on the firing stud.

Kakara made an unpleasant sound in his throat.

The dark-haired woman turned, tossed the weapon to Wolfe.

He caught it in midair. “Now, let’s go have a talk with the bridge about meeting some friends.”

• • •

Wolfe knelt in the open lock, holding the blast rifle that had been waiting in the
Grayle
’s lock on Kakara, the
Laurel
’s captain, and another officer. The side of his face was swollen, the blood only half dried.

“All right, Rita,” he said, his voice a little mushy. “I have them. Go on into the ship.”

The woman put the safety on her blaster, started to obey, then walked over to Kakara.

The two stared at each other for a very long time.

Kakara was the first to look away.

Rita nodded, as if something had been settled between them, and went quickly into the
Grayle.

“My ship’s armed,” Wolfe said. “Cut your losses, Kakara. Don’t try to be cute.”

The big man stared at him.

“Whoever you are,” he said hoarsely. “You better learn to sleep with one eye open. And don’t make any long-range investments.”

“I never do,” Wolfe said. “And I sleep with both eyes open. Always.” He slid one hand free, touched the lock sensor, and the door closed.

A clang came as the
Grayle
disconnected from the
Laurel.

“Sir, shall we track them?”

Jalon Kakara didn’t answer. His eyes were still fixed on the blank alloy portal of the airlock.

“You have no crew?” Rita said.

“Don’t much need one. The ship’s automated.”

“So where was it hiding?”

“Dead astern of the
Laurel.
She doesn’t have much of a silhouette anyway, and nobody ever looks over his shoulder. Except in the romances to make sure the wolves are still there.”

Rita tried a smile, which graduated to a successful grin. Wolfe poured her another cup of coffee.

“Should I have shot him?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why not? The bastard gave me more than my share of bruises. Broken bones, twice. And if you were one of Cormac’s people, you surely aren’t a pacifist.”

“No,” Wolfe said, taking his cup to the washer. “I’m hardly that. But death’s a little final, sometimes.”

• • •

The planetoid of Malabar, and its attendant junkyard, was “below” them.

The woman eyed the screen.

“Eleven … almost twelve years,” she mused. “I hope I haven’t built up something to be more than what it was.”

“Not from Cormac’s lights. And if it is … you can always leave.”

“No,” Rita said flatly. “Maybe I don’t know what I should be wanting. I certainly didn’t when I went for Jalon.

“I’ll stay the course, if he’ll have me. Because I know nobody ever, not
ever
, gets a third chance.”

• • •

“I … we owe you big,” Cormac said.

“You surely do.”

“Is there anything you need?”

Wolfe thought, smiled quietly. “A time machine, maybe.”

Cormac looked at him. “How far back would you go and change things?”

Wolfe started to answer, stopped. “Maybe … all the way back to — ” He broke off and said no more.

• • •

The port slid closed, and Wolfe went up the circular staircase to the control room.
“You may emerge from your burrow.”

A panel slid open, and Taen came out.

“My apologies,” Wolfe said in Terran, then switched to Al’ar.
“I have no pride in having to hide you like this.”

“It matters not,” the Al’ar said. “I am relieved, in fact, because I do not have to injure my sensors with the sight of more humans. Now, have we adequately fulfilled the role of Noble Savior?”

“For the moment,” Wolfe said. “And thanks for your appreciation for humanity.”

“This was received,” Taen said, pointing to a screen. “I do not know how to decode it, but I suspect it is the response from the Federation Intelligence man.”

Wolfe went to the screen and studied the message for awhile.

“Cisco is depending one hell of a lot on my memory,” he muttered. “It’s an old hasty code we used during the war. I think. Let’s see … OX4YM, RYED3 … I can’t do it in my head anymore.”

He opened a drawer, took out a pad and pencil, began scrawling. Twice he got up to consult star charts on a screen.

“All right,” he said after some time. “I think I have it. Most of it, anyway, and I can guess the rest. It
was
from Cisco, and it was setting up a meeting. We’ve got about two E-weeks to make it, with five days slop on either side.

“I think it’s pretty safe. Cisco’s going to set his ship down on an armpit called Yerkey’s Planet. It’s a single-planet system, with not much of anywhere to hide. If we can make a slow approach, ready to streak like a scalded cat if anything flickers … maybe. Just maybe.

“Ship. Take us out of this junkyard. Make two blind jumps when we have room, and put us somewhere in empty space, and I’ll give you the ana/kata numbers at that time.”

“Understood.”

The
Grayle
lifted away from Malabar under medium drive.

Two minutes off, the emergency com frequency blared. “Unknown ship, unknown ship. Cut drive, stand by to be inspected.”

“Ship! All weapons systems on standby.”

“Understood.”

Wolfe swung down a mike. “This is the yacht
Otranto
, broadcasting on standard emergency frequency. Identify yourself, and give authority for your request.”

“
Otranto
, this is the
Ramee.
We made no request but demand you stand by for inspection. We are in pursuit of a dangerous Federation criminal.”

“Ship,” Wolfe said, “give me any specs on the
Ramee.
”

“No ship of that name found.”

“Do you have any entry, anywhere, on the name
Ramee
?”

“Otranto, Otranto
, this is the
Ramee.
Be advised we are armed, and will launch to disable unless you communicate instantly and cut your drive. Do not attempt to enter N-space. We will match orbit.”

“Ramee,”
the ship said calmly.
“More commonly known as Petrus Ramus. An eminent logician. A native of ancient Earth, of the country then known as France. Most noted — ”

“Stop,” Wolfe said. “With a name like that, a Chitet?”

Taen moved his grasping organs. “From what you have told me, it would make sense that they would name their spacecraft after thinkers,” Taen said. “Hardly a subtle maneuver, however.”

“Doubt if they care, this far from anything.” Wolfe keyed the mike. ”
Ramee
, this is the
Otranto.
I must protest this piracy in the strongest terms. There is no one on board this craft but the captain and four crew members. We are delivering this craft to its new owners on Rialto.”

“This inspection will take only a few moments. Stand by. We will be sending a team across as soon as we are in conjunction with you.”

“So much for an honest face,” Wolfe said. “Ship, do you have any ID on the
Ramee
from its dimensions?”

“The ship resembles three classes of vessels. However, two of them are rare prototypes, so it is most likely the ship is a somewhat modified
Requesans-
class destroyer built by the Federation. I display its possible weaponry, performance.”

Wolfe scanned the screen. “Fast little bastard. Fine. Ship, give me a screen with the
Ramee
on it and its probable orbit in relation to us.”

Another screen lit. The Chitet craft, four times the size of the
Grayle
, was closing on the
Grayle
from directly “ahead.”