Night's Pawn (30 page)

Chase let her words hang in the air for a few seconds, then said, "You're right."

She looked up at him slowly,

"Cara's here in Seattle. Now. She's in trouble and needs to talk to you, privately, away from your corporate army without them even knowing. Now."

Samantha Villiers stared at him. He thought she might be shaking just a little bit.

She looked down, then back up at him. He could see in her eyes the emotion she was trying to fight back.

"Whatever she wants," Samantha said. "I want to see her. I want to see my daughter."

26

"So?" asked Chase.

He was standing in an office of the Raynox Building next to the desk on which Dancing Fire was sitting Indian-style. Dancing was still watching the arcology and the party Chase had just come from. It was winding down.

Dancing shrugged. "I saw what I expected to see. Her aura was clean, nothing unnatural, maybe a little cyberware, but nothing serious."

"Her reactions?"

"Text book. She was a hard one to read, though. Kept up a front as long as she could, till you knocked it down."

"Tell me," said Chase.

"She came in nervous, a little confused. Then she relaxed, but there was still an edge, and some other interesting stuff lurking at the edges. When you dropped your bomb, she was all over the place—scared, angry, confused, worried. Lotsa worried."

Chase nodded. "But it seemed natural, nothing staged?"

Dancing turned toward Chase, was looking straight at him, but his eyes were unfocused. He was still seeing in astral space. Chase shuddered. "One of the reasons Janey lets me stick around is my ability to read auras," Dancing told him. "She was clean."

"So, then, apparently she doesn't know."

Dancing looked back toward the arcology and shrugged. "Would seem that way."

Chase nodded and patted the Indian shaman on the back. "Thanks. Stay till the party's over. Let Janey know if anything happens."

"Done."

As Chase turned to leave, the Indian's voice stopped him. "Ya know, it ain't my biz, but you do know she digs you, right?"

"We were always friendly…"

The Indian stared at him.

Chase started away again. "You were right," he said. "It ain't your biz."

Returning to the loft, Chase passed quietly through the protection he'd arranged, some of it obvious and some of it so well-hidden that even he could barely spot it. If anyone was going, to come gunning for Cara, they'd have to get through a small army.

He went upstairs into the silent apartment. There were two guards there, an Indian husband-and-wife team that Dancing had recommended. The perimeter guardians had alerted them to Chase's arrival, and they nodded as he entered.

"Anything?" he asked.

The woman shook her head. Her name was Leanna. "No, nothing. The girl is awake. She wanted to see you when you got back."

Chase nodded and gestured. "In her room?"

"Yes."

As Chase started across the loft toward Cara's room, the man, Jacob, called out to him quietly. "Janey Zane called. She said she'd begun the preparations, as you asked. Tomorrow night can be arranged."

"Good," said Chase. "Call her and tell her that's fine."

The Indian nodded, and returned to his corner of the loft, pulling out a cellular telecom.

At Cara's door Chase knocked softly.

Her voice was quiet and far away. "Yes?"

"It's me."

"It's open," she said.

When Chase stepped into the room, it was dark and smelled faintly of sweat. Cara Villiers was sitting on the far side in a small chair lit from above by the glow of the moon coming through the skylight. She looked very young, very tired. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I saw your mother."

She shifted toward him slightly, and Chase could see the thin sheen of perspiration that still covered her, pasting the cloth of her shirt against her body. Her hair was disheveled, knotted, hanging like dirty string. Her lips were chapped, and her left arm showed a near-constant tremor. Her eyes, though, were clear, sharp, and focused. He almost flinched when she looked at him.

"Did she remember me?" Cara asked.

"Of course she did, Cara. She wants to see you. Right away. Our arrangements. Our conditions. No questions asked."

Cara stared at him for almost a minute, making Chase decidedly uncomfortable. "Really," she said flatly, and looked away.

"Tomorrow night. She'll meet with you tomorrow night."

"Did you ask about my father?"

"No. I didn't have enough time. Besides, I figured I'd leave that to you."

He saw her take a long, deep breath and then let it out. She closed her eyes wearily, then looked at him again, brushing strands of damp hair aside with her shaking left hand. She looked back at him.

"Yeah," she said. "Leave that to me."

27

The place they chose for the meeting was an "out of business" restaurant in Auburn that Liam Bough knew about. The Caretaker had long since stopped serving food, but the place still catered to an exclusive clientele. Its owner made his money conducting another kind of business, the kind that would be going on tonight.

Chase and Janey had rearranged the tables in the main area so that Cara and her mother could have a private talk out of earshot, but within view, of the others. Inside were Chase, Janey Zane, Dancing, and Cara, the Indian couple lurking in the background as extra guards. Bough was up on the roof coordinating the small army they'd moved here from the loft. At this point, Chase was assuming that if anything was going to happen, it was going to happen here. He was almost expecting it.

His earphone crackled. It was Bough. "Watcher One to Base. We've got a Jaguar XTC approaching, deep blue, tag reads FSG 101. Over."

"That's it," he said, and turned toward Dancing, who was sitting in one of the booths, looking almost asleep. "Juju time," Chase told him.

The shaman grinned. "Back in a second." The Indian leaned back in the booth and relaxed.

Chase keyed his microphone. "Watcher One, this is Base. Confirm vehicle. What else do you have? Over."

"Base, I have nothing. It's dead out here," Bough replied instantly. "I hate the fraggin' suburbs. ETA three minutes. Over."

"Roger Watcher One, keep us advised."

Chase took one last look at the meeting area and then walked to where Cara was sitting quietly next to Janey. Janey didn't seem able to talk to Cara the way Freid had.

Krista Freid
. He shoved the thought of her from his mind. Before this was all over, someone would pay for what they'd done to Krista.

Cara looked better. She was wearing a pair of jeans, a T-shirt with the new Seahawks logo, and a lightweight jacket. With her hair pulled back, she looked more her age. She was tense, though, and distracted. Dancing had examined her aura earlier and surmised that her personal fight was almost over.

"Your mother'll be here in a few minutes," Ghase told her.

Staring off into space, Cara didn't seem to hear. Janey did, however, and looked up. "She's been like this ever since we got here."

Chase squatted down in front of Cara. "Hey," he said, taking her hand, which she immediately yanked away. It was her left hand, and that got her attention. She looked at him and blinked a few times. In her eyes he read fear, but something else, too. The same something he'd first seen days ago. "You all right?" he asked.

Her brow furrowed, and she looked toward where she'd be meeting her mother. "I… I'm…"

"Scared?" said Chase. "I'll bet. Your mother probably is, too. She was last night. I think she misses you very much."

Cara spoke very softly. "No, not scared. Confused." She glanced back and forth between Chase and the meeting table. "I'm not sure—I don't remember what I'm supposed to say…"

Dancing Fire spoke in Chase's ear. "I'm back. Checked mom out astrally—nothing. She's clean, just like last night. Nervous as hell, though. Pretty much what I'd expected."

Chase turned slightly so that he could see the shaman, and nodded. The Indian was staring at him and Cara. Chase returned his attention to Cara. "Tell her what you told me," he said. "Tell her what you have to, Cara. It's why we're here."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "I… I know."

Dancing's voice came again in Chase's ear. "She's twisted up, chummer. Bet her pulse is way over the speed limit." Chase ignored him.

"Cara," he said. "It'll all work out."

She didn't answer.

"Watcher One to Base, Jag in the lot," said Bough.

Chase backed away from Cara, leaving her once more lost in thought. Shit, he cursed inwardly, walking toward the door. Off in a far corner he could just barely make out the Indian Leanna. They nodded to each another.

At the doorway Chase waited.

"Here she comes," Bough said over the radio.

The doors opened, and Samantha Villiers walked in. Chase was surprised to see that she was dressed so similarly to Cara. Jeans, a stylish blouse in the green of her eyes, and a lightweight jacket that matched the whiteness of her boots. Dancing was right, she was nervous.

Chase stepped up and took her arm. She was looking past him, into the restaurant, but from the door, she could see nothing more than tables. Cara and the others were out of her view.

"She's here," Chase told her. "Do you think you might have been followed?"

Samantha shook her head, still looking beyond him. "No. I take off in my car a lot. They've given up following me."

Chase smiled slightly, and shook his head. "Not likely. Your car's probably got a tracer on it. I know it used to."

That made her look at him. "You're kidding?"

"No, I'm not. Security used to keep an eye on the whole family all the time. We wouldn't have been doing our job otherwise."

She managed a smile. "Never any secrets, huh?"

"None."

She took that and thought about it while scanning the restaurant again. "So am I going to get to see her?"

Chase nodded. "Yes, but I have to warn you about something."

She looked back at him and stiffened. "What is it?"

"Cara's been through some hard times. She's done lots of things you wouldn't like—"

"What's wrong?"

"She's got a chip problem."

Chase saw Samantha's gaze harden. "Yes, I heard something about that a year or so back."

"There may be some long-term effects. She's very confused right now. She's got some things to tell you, but I'm not sure she can. If not, I will."

Samantha put her hand on his arm. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you for bringing her to me."

"She asked me to. I'm just doing what I'm told."

Her gaze softened. "Yeah, that's you all right."

"If you can," he told her, "persuade her to go with you. She needs help—therapy, psychoconditioning, I don't know. We've used a little magic on her—"

She stiffened. "Jesus…"

"It's all right," he reassured her. "It seemed to help some, but she's still fighting whatever the chips did to her."

"Okay. Let me see her."

Chase motioned Samantha to stay where she was while he returned to the main area. Cara and Janey were off to one side, waiting. Janey was looking in his direction, but Cara was scanning the room, rubbing her arm and looking everywhere but at him.

Chase nodded to Janey, then back toward Samantha, the signal for her to step forward. As she came into view, Chase saw Cara's still-darting gaze light on her mother, then stop. She glanced away and then back again. Her expression was one of confusion, but a look of slowly growing determination was gradually replacing it.

Samantha was standing there, utterly still, looking at her daughter. She wasn't hiding her emotions now, maybe because a mother's fear and concern were too great even for her usual control. She stuffed her hands into her pants pockets, and Chase wondered if it was to hide their shaking. But she gave her daughter a smile.

Chase stepped between them to stand next to the seated shaman. He motioned Samantha toward the main area. She started to walk that way, slowly, watching her daughter. Cara was taking long, deep breaths with her eyes closed. Janey had leaned in close and was talking to her quietly.

When Cara opened her eyes, Chase was surprised and heartened to see a calmness there. She turned away from Janey and moved toward her mother, leaving Janey in mid-sentence. Janey glanced at Chase, confused.

Samantha looked as though she wanted to reach out and take her daughter in an embrace, but was afraid to. Then she started to say something, but Cara seemed to cut her off.

Chase could see them, but not hear what they were saying. Cara's back was to him, while Samantha was clearly visible. He imagined that she'd just asked her daughter how she was.

Then Cara was talking, seeming to be explaining something, and Chase wished he could hear. Samantha looked alternately concerned, puzzled, and then slightly angry. She glanced quickly at Chase while the confusion was on her.