Night's Pawn (33 page)

"Yes," said Lanier, "we do. It'll take a moment, but… yes, my people are transmitting the image now. It'll show up on the wall over there." He was pointing to a bare spot on the wall. It was just beyond Chase's vision, but he peripherally saw the picture fade into view. He'd asked to see it, but now he didn't want to turn and look.

"There. That's him," said Villiers. "Never met the bastard, only saw his picture."

Chase turned slowly, rotating the chair instead of his body. There he was, larger than life. He was on the street, talking to someone, grinning broadly. His age showed.

Lanier and Villiers were staring at Chase. "You know him?" Lanier asked.

Chase stared at the face. "I know him." He turned the chair again, away from the face and toward Richard Villiers.

"Two birds with one stone. It didn't mean Cara and her mother," Chase told him. "It meant you and me."

"I don't follow," said Villiers.

"By using Cara to kill your ex-wife, he'd be getting back at you," said Chase. "And by having me unwittingly do everything I could to make that happen, he'd be getting back at me."

Villiers shook his head. "Getting back at you? What did you do to him?"

"Twenty years ago I killed him. I left him for dead in the Black Sea. I left a lot behind with him."

"Good God," said Lanier, somehow knowing and understanding.

"Who is he, Simon?" asked Villiers, now staring at the picture.

Chase closed his eyes and leaned back. He wished some dark oblivion would take him, but none came. "His name is Alexi Komroff. He's my brother."

30

Both Villiers and Lanier were staring at him, waiting for him to say something. Chase was quiet for some time. He was trying to remember his wife's face, her voice, her calm center, and take it for his own.

"I think you'd better tell us more, Simon," said Lanier.

Chase opened his eyes and sat up. He looked at Lanier. "I can't, not really." he said. "Prior obligations."

Villiers' eyes went hard. "God damn it, Simon. We're talking about my daughter—"

Chase cut him off. "There are some things I can't tell you, but I suspect you'll be able to figure most of it out anyway." He was looking at Lanier as he spoke. "What I
can
tell you is enough.

"My brother and I haven't been close since we were kids. He's a year older than I am. We were in the military together—I'll leave whose to your imagination—trying to prove which of us was the tougher son of a bitch."

"You had a falling-out, I take it?" asked Lanier.

"Yeah, you could say that," said Chase. "The circumstances are part of what I can't go into, but yeah, we had a falling out. Like I said, I thought he was dead, and I thought I'd killed him. But don't get me wrong, I lost no sleep over it. And that's all I know, until a day ago. Someone we both knew told me he was alive. That's the first I've heard in twenty years."

"That's it?" asked Villiers. "He'd do this for something that happened twenty years ago?"

Chase shook his head. "I wouldn't have thought so, but who knows? I guess I don't really know what the past did to him."

Lanier looked distracted. "My people have just pointed out something to me that I think bears some consideration."

"Oh?" said Villiers.

"It concerns Simon." Lanier looked over at Chase. "They tell me that we have only the most circumstantial, and I want to stress that, only the most unsubstantiated information that the man known as 'Alexander' has been active in Der Nachtmachen for a decade or so."

That long, Chase thought. "Really?" he said aloud.

Lanier was looking hard at him. "The plane crash, Simon."

Chase froze. He'd been avoiding that line of thought. Could Alexi have done that? Was it possible his brother had changed so much that he'd have killed her to hurt
him!"

"I know," he said very quietly.

Villiers had paled again. "That seals it," he said, placing his palms flat against the desk top. "Miles, get Peter Lindholm and Annie Dexter in here. Find out where the frag 'Alexander' is and work out a combat strike plan."

Villiers looked at Chase. "Nothing personal, Simon, but you had the right idea in Berlin. I'm just going to make damn sure nobody gets missed this time."

Chase nodded. "Whatever help I can give—"

"We can't do it," said Lanier, and both Chase and Villiers looked at him. He shrugged. "We can't."

"Don't give me that drek, Miles," Villiers told him. "I want you to figure it out."

"I have, and we can't do it. There are too many obstacles." His gaze was locked with Villiers'. "Should I go down the list?"

"Maybe you should," said Chase.

Lanier nodded. "All right. First off, this is more than a simple tac-ops job. We don't have a sufficient team in northern Germany, where Der Nachtmachen has its headquarters, if you will. You know the jurisdictional problems we have in Germany with regard to corporate operations. Arranging and staging a combat raid like this would be nearly impossible."

"Then don't tell them," said Villiers.

Lanier grimaced. "Oh, we could certainly do that, but then what? They'll figure out who it was, and we'll pay the price for the next ten years. Plus, Richard, you're forgetting it's not your territory. The Yamanas run Fuchi-Europe. Do you think they'd consent to this? You're only going to Frankfurt next month as a show of unity. They don't really want you there."

"I'll get them to agree."

"In exchange for what? Think of the politics, Richard. You, your nephew, your ex-wife? What about all that? Right now you're in a damn good position as far as the Japanese are concerned. You can exploit that and probably end this whole confrontation. Play combat cowboy and it could be all over."

Villiers was staring at Lanier. Chase could see him thinking and analyzing everything his head of strategic intelligence was telling him, and not liking it. There didn't, however, seem to be any flaw in the logic.

"I can't let him get away with this, Miles."

Lanier nodded. "He won't. We'll track him and deal with him personally. It may take some time, but he won't get away with this."

"No," said Chase.

Lanier turned to look at him. "I suppose if you want to go after him—"

"Shut up, Miles," Chase said. "Depending on standard operations is never going to end the problem. That's what I did in Berlin. They're like a colony of bugs. You stomp on one and the rest run and hide somewhere else. The only way is to take out the nest all at once."

Lanier shook his head. "That won't solve it either. When you hit them last time, they simply splintered. They'll do it again."

Chase nodded. "Probably. But what happened last time? Sure they splintered, but most of the splinters ended up benign. Der Nachtmachen is a registered legal policlub here in North America. They're radical bastards, but they're legal bastards. It took me along while to get that through my head.

"The problem is the head, the core, the Der Nachtmachen that's behind this. From what you've told me, them we can hurt. Besides, hitting them hard and bloody sends a message. It probably won't get all of them, but those who get away will know they made it by only
that
much and that we're not playing games."

Lanier had been nodding in agreement with everything Chase said. "You're right," he put in. "But as I said, there's nothing we can do that won't cost all concerned more in the long run."

"Then we'll get someone else to do it," Chase told him.

"We?" asked Lanier.

Villiers sat up. "Who? The Germans? They can't think much of Der Nachtmachen."

Lanier made a face. "And I don't think much of the Germans. Compared to us, they're amateurs. Not to mention the national bureaucracy they'd have to deal with. Richard, you can issue an order and it gets done. The amount of time it would require to convince them that a combat strike was the only option…" Lanier sighed. "I hate to think about it."

"Besides, who's to say where the Der Nachtmachen influence ends," Chase said. "It would take only one wrong person in the German structure to hear about the plan and they'd be gone."

Villiers raised an eyebrow. "Good point, but I thought this was your plan."

Chase shook his head. "Get somebody to do it, but not the Germans."

Lanier seemed perplexed. "Not the Germans? Another corporation? Mercenaries?"

"Mercs," said Villiers. "We could do that…"

Chase shook his head. "It would take too long to get them together. We need somebody who can move at a moment's notice."

Lanier was frustrated. "I take it you've got somebody in mind? Care to let us in on it?"

Chase shook his head and held up his hands. "Let me first see whether or not some bridges are burned. Miles, have your people compile a strike profile as if your forces were going to do it. Find out where they are, how they're protected, everything. Do it all through your own sources, don't use the Nexus in Denver. I wouldn't trust them with this."

Lanier looked annoyed and turned to Villiers. "I don't see how we can—"

Villiers held up his hand. "Work up the profile, Miles, and do it fast. Let's give Church here the benefit of the doubt." He stared at Chase. "His reasons for wanting this taken care of are as good as mine."

Chase nodded. "And I can think of at least one other group that may want Captain Alexi Komroff just as bad as we do."

31

Chase wasn't sure how tough it would be making the connections he needed. If he could have trusted Shiva and the Nexus, it would have been almost simple, but that was out. He had some personal contacts in the Middle East that might be able to point him in the right direction, but it wouldn't be easy.

Before that, though, he had something else to take care of. Something entirely personal.

The security guards at the door to the intensive care ward were eyeing him suspiciously as he approached, when suddenly another man stepped in front of them.

John Deaver didn't smile. Chase was surprised to see the mage here, but it made sense. Chase didn't reveal his surprise, however. His body was working at a level it hadn't achieved in years.

"John," said Chase. "Long time."

Deaver nodded. "You never did know how to handle her."

Chase leaned just a hair closer to him. "Don't start. Don't even think about starting."

Deaver returned the stare. "You can't go in. You're finished here. That's what you should be thinking about."

Chase glanced away for a second, and before his head swung back, his right hand shot out, knuckles extended, hitting Deaver in the solar plexus. The mage started to take an involuntary step back as his breath exploded from his chest. Chase pivoted slightly, his left foot coming up and glancing hard against Deaver's jaw line just forward of the ear. Deaver crumpled.

The two guards looked at Chase and then down at Deaver. Chase raised his hands and gestured at Deaver's body with his head. "He's a butthole. You, on the other hand, are going to call your bosses and find out whether I'm allowed inside or not."

The one guard almost smiled. "That won't be necessary. We knew you were allowed in. Mrs. Villiers ordered it, and I sure as hell don't want to be the one to get her bent now."

Chase paused outside the isolation ward. From the hallway, he could see inside to the observation room and Samantha Villiers. She was standing, listening to someone, probably a representative of the medical facility. Her arms were crossed, and she nodded slightly as she listened. Beyond her, Chase saw a single medical bed. Lying on it was the small, still form of Cara Villiers.

He pushed against the door. It yielded to his pressure and opened with a hiss as the air seal was broken. The representative turned and scowled slightly at him. Chase was expressionless.

"Leave us alone," he said.

Samantha Villiers glanced up at the sound of his voice, then nodded at the representative. Without a glance, the man left.

Chase stepped up and placed one hand on Samantha's shoulder. "What have they told you?" he asked.

She took a sharp breath before answering. "They don't think the hand graft will take. You did too much damage."

He winced. He couldn't have done anything else. No options, only reflexes.

She turned slightly and touched his arm with her hand. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean it that way."

He shook his head. "No, you're right. I should never have let it happen."

She let her hand fall away, but turned to him full face. There were tears in her eyes, but also a calm strength that said much about who she was. "You did what you had to do. If it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else, and Cara and I might both be dead."

Chase shook his head again. "No, it had to be me. That was half the point."

She was confused, but he waved off the question. "Later," he said. "Ask Richard."

She nodded. "I will."

"I just wanted to see that everything was all right before I try to arrange some things." He looked through the inner window at Cara. "Some things that need taking care of."