Xenopath (39 page)

"Please,"
Vaughan murmured, and wondered what it might feel like to share his
head with an alien being.

He deactivated
his mind-shield.

"Goodbye,
Khar," Sukara said.

Seconds later he
felt a moment of dizziness, a quick heat in his head, and then a
voice,
There. I am one with you.

To Vaughan's
surprise, it was not dissimilar to reading a human mind. He was not
physically aware of the presence in his head, but could detect its
thoughts and emotions, alien and largely unreadable as they were.

Vaughan said,
"I'll contact Kapinsky, get her to bring her cam and chu over,
okay?"

You are one
step ahead of me, my friend,
said the voice in his head.

Vaughan entered
Kapinsky's code into his handset. She appeared on the screen,
scowling at having been pulled from sleep. "Vaughan? What now?"

"I have the
killer, Kapinsky," he said. "He's dead."

"What?"

"I'm at my
apartment. Get over here and bring your chu and the digiCam, okay?
I'll explain when you get here." He cut the connection.

Sukara and Pham
were holding each other and staring at him. "Jeff," Sukara
said, "will you please tell me what's happening?"

He took Sukara's
hand and led her into the sunken sofa. She sat down next to him, Pham
perched beyond her, staring at Vaughan with big eyes as he ordered
his thoughts and explained what had happened to him on Mallory.

SCHEERING

While Sukara and
Pham were in the kitchen, fixing coffee, Kapinsky knelt beside the
killer's corpse and peeled off his chu to reveal a balding European
in his forties. She photographed the man's true face and downloaded
the image into the memory of her own chu.

Vaughan went
through the killer's jacket, found his ID card, and slipped it into
his pocket.

Two minutes
later Kapinsky held up the mesh mask of the chu and conjured the dead
man's face.

"How's
that, Vaughan?" The killer's head hung from Kapinsky's right
hand, as if she'd beheaded the guy and was parading the trophy in
triumph.

"It looks
good enough to convince Scheering," he said.

"What does
the alien in your head think about it?" Kapinsky asked.

Khar said,
The likeness is perfect. Your build, Vaughan, is superficially
similar to the assassin's. If you wear the man's jacket, then
Scheering will have no intimation of our deception, until too late.

Vaughan said to
Kapinsky, "Khar's satisfied."

"And you
say the alien knows where Scheering'll be?"

He nodded. "When
Khar was in Kormier's head, he tried to access Scheering. Kormier
knew Scheering, his itinerary."

"So where's
Scheering now?" Kapinsky asked.

Khar said,
He
is in his villa until twelve every day, when he heads by air-car to
the Scheering-Lassiter headquarters. 1 will direct you to the villa.
Though security is tight, you will have no trouble entering his
residence with the killer's ID.

Vaughan reported
this to Kapinsky. She indicated the killer. "What about the
stiff?"

"We'll wait
til! we've got Scheering, then call in the cops." He looked at
his watch. It was ten. "We've plenty of time to get to
Scheering's place before midday."

They had coffee
in the kitchen while Vaughan explained to Sukara what they were
doing.

She looked
alarmed. "I don't want you to go, Jeff!"

"Su, I'll
be fine. There's nothing to worry about, okay?"

"I'll look
after him, kid," Kapinsky said.

Vaughan kissed
Sukara and pulled the chu over his head, the elastic nexus clamping
his face. She winced. "Jeff!" She shook her head. "You
don't know how much that looks like him."

"Stay here
until I get back." He chucked Pham under the chin. "See you
later, Pham."

Sukara followed
him to the door, her eyes avoiding the covered corpse, and embraced
him.

He pulled on the
killer's jacket, waved at Sukara, and stepped into the corridor. It
was midday, and the corridors were crowded with citizens going about
their business. Vaughan felt a tightness in his chest, an
apprehension. At the same time he was aware of Khar in his head,
soothing him.

Five minutes
later they took the upchute to Level One and boarded an air-taxi to
Scheering's villa on the north side of the Station.

As the flier
screamed over the sunlit Station, Khar said,
You experienced the
slaughter of my kind on Mallory. Your memories are painful.

It is painful,
he thought in reply, to witness what my fellow humans are capable of
in the name of exploration, colonisation—in the name of making
money.

I have
experienced much goodness in your race,
Khar said.
Kormier,
Pham, Sukara, and yourself.

Vaughan smiled.
Bit-part players, he thought back at the alien.

A human, many
years ago, said that power corrupts.

That's a
frightening thought, Khar—the idea that we are all potential
evildoers given the attainment of power.

Khar smiled in
his head.
There is a flaw in your argument, Vaughan. In my
experience, truly good humans do not crave power.

Is it not power
I crave now to end Scheering's genocide of your race? Vaughan
thought.

Not so much
power,
the alien told him,
as the temporary ability to right a
wrong.

I just hope it
works, Vaughan thought.

It will, my
friend. Thanks to you, my people will survive.

Vaughan thought
about that. The fact was overwhelming, so much so that he could not
take it in. Through the simple actions he was taking now, he would
ensure the continued existence of an alien race on a planet light
years from Earth.

He glanced
through the side window. They were banking over the edge of the
'port, coming down in a wide area of designer grassland dotted with
expensive villas. Scheering's residence overlooked the ocean, a
sprawling split-level mansion surrounded by a high fence and accessed
through a wrought iron gate.

The taxi settled
on an adjacent landing pad and Kapinsky instructed the driver to
wait. "I'll stay here," she said to Vaughan. She passed him
a small automatic, along with the anaesthetic spray, synthi-flesh,
and a scalpel. He concealed them in his jacket.

Kapinsky punched
his shoulder. "Good luck, Vaughan."

"Back in
ten minutes," he said confidently and slipped from the flier.

He took a
breath, aware of Khar in his head, steadying his nerves, and walked
across the landing pad to the gate in the high perimeter fence. He
activated his implant and scanned the mansion. As he suspected, there
was not the slightest sign of mental activity from the building:
Scheering and his employees were shielded.

He thumbed the
intercom and hung the killer's ID card before a staring camera lens.
"I've come to see Scheering. Priority."

A voice spoke
from the grille. "Where you been, Keilor? The Old Man's been
waiting. Okay, get yourself in here."

The gate swung
slowly open and Vaughan slipped through and approached the mansion
through a garden arrayed with miniature palms and bougainvillaea, the
sunlight bringing him out in an uncomfortable sweat. Guards strolled
along the crazy-paved pathways, armed with laser carbines. Around the
perimeter fence, more guards patrolled with snarling dogs.

Vaughan paused
before the front door, wondering whether protocol dictated he should
enter or ring the bell. No sooner had he had the thought, than he
felt a stirring in his head. Khar, dictating his actions...

He rang the
bell, and a second later a silver-suited heavy pulled open the door
and ushered him in. "The Old Man's in his study, Keilor. Go on
through." The bodyguard indicated a door at the end of a long,
timber-floored corridor. Vaughan nodded and made his way towards it,
Khar subliminally easing his nerves.

The first hurdle
over, he thought. The chu fooled the heavy, at least.

Be calm,
Khar said.
You wilt succeed.

He paused before
the door, took a deep breath and knocked. Of course, if Scheering
were not alone...

"Come in,
Keilor."

He opened the
door and stepped inside. The first thing that struck him was the size
of the room. He had expected a medium-sized study, not this great
open space of timber flooring and white walls, backed by a vast
window that looked out over the dazzling azure sea.

The second thing
Vaughan noted, with relief, was that Scheering was alone.

The head of the
Scheering-Lassiter organisation, the biggest multicolonial concern in
the galaxy, one of the wealthiest men on this or any other planet,
sat behind a big wooden desk at the far end of the room, leaning
forward and staring at his visitor. He was silver-haired and
heavy-jowled. Even seated, there was something imposing, almost
regal, in his bearing. He was like an enthroned monarch, imperiously
aware of his power.

"The girl?
You said you'd bring her in by midday."

Vaughan knew he
should approach the desk and spray Scheering in the face with the
anaesthetic, take no risks and get the job done as quickly and
efficiently as possible.

Instead,
something made him deviate from the script. He walked across the room
until he was a couple of metres from the desk, staring down at
Scheering.

Then he slipped
the pistol from his jacket and levelled it. "Raise your hands.
Stand up and back away from the desk."

Scheering's big
face formed a faltering smile. "Keilor, this is some kind of
stunt, right? A joke?"

"Stand up!"
Vaughan snapped, stepping forward and aiming the pistol at
Scheering's forehead.

Scheering stood
quickly, toppling his chair and backing towards the picture window.

"Hands up!"

Obediently,
Scheering raised his fat paws. "Keilor?" he peered at
Vaughan, doubtfully.

Be careful
,
Khar warned.

Vaughan reached
up and removed the chu.

The colour
drained from Scheering's face. He shook his head and said in a croak,
"What do you want? If it's money, that can be arranged."

Vaughan could
not help but smile. "Is that how you get out of every problem,
Scheering? Throw money at it? Or are some problems too difficult to
buy your way out of? What do you do then?"

"I don't
know what you're talking about."

"If you
can't buy what you want, you employ violence, right? You either hire
assassins like Keilor, or send your armies in to kill innocents."

"What do
you want?" Scheering tried to imbue the question with authority,
but his voice wavered.

"I want to
bring an end to the slaughter of aliens on Mallory," Vaughan
said, and delighted at the look of alarm that briefly filled
Scheering's eyes.

He walked around
the desk, keeping the pistol aimed at Scheering. "Sit down. On
the floor!"

The big man
looked at the polished timber flooring as if the indignity of sitting
upon it was beyond him. Vaughan stepped forward, brandishing the
weapon, and Scheering clumsily fell to his knees, then manoeuvred his
bulk into a sitting position against the glass.

Vaughan
swivelled the chair Scheering had just vacated and sat down, leaning
forward. "Tell me something, do you manage to sleep with the
thought that you're personally responsible for the deaths of
hundreds, thousands, of aliens?"

Scheering
managed a smile. He seemed to have overcome his initial shock, taken
stock of the situation. He rallied, perhaps buying time. "It was
a choice between the continued prosperity of six million colonists on
Mallory and the lives of a few thousand aliens." He shrugged.
"It was no choice, my friend. I look after my people."

"You look
after yourself," Vaughan said. "You look after your
investors, your shareholders. You do evil and call it good."

"As I am
fond of telling the man you impersonated," Scheering smiled,
"there is no such thing as good and evil, only—"

"Only those
who are strong, and those who are weak," Vaughan finished.

Scheering stared
at him. "And Keilor?" he said. "What did you do—?"

"He's
dead," Vaughan replied. "He wasn't strong enough, in the
end."

Fear showed in
Scheering's eyes. "What do you want?"

"Personally,"
Vaughan said, "I want to kill you. The animal in me wants
recompense for all the misery and suffering you and your company have
caused, to aliens and humans alike."

Scheering was
sweating, and it had nothing to do with the sunlight streaming in
through the window at his back. A trickle ran from his brow and
tracked down the side of his nose. For a second, Vaughan mistook it
for a tear.

Scheering said,
"You do realise, don't you, that this office is monitored? You
don't think I'd overlook such a security risk?"

Vaughan smiled.
"Monitored? Then your security team must be looking the other
way. I don't see anyone rushing to your aid."

Scheering moved,
then. For a man of his bulk, he leapt up with surprising agility. He
flung himself towards the wall, reaching out for a security alarm.

Vaughan stood
and kicked out, connecting with the man's padded gut. Scheering
grunted and slumped to the floor. Vaughan stood over him and kicked
out again, this time turning Scheering onto his back.

The millionaire
stared up at him, something quailing and defeated in his eyes.
Vaughan smiled. Revenge was sweet.

"How would
you like to die, Scheering? A quick laser pulse to the head, killing
you instantly? Or should I strangle you, slowly? Give you time to
think about all the people you ordered Keilor to murder, all the
Hortavans you massacred?"