Dream Thief (44 page)

“I'm afraid I am. Come with me, please.” The command was cold and left no room for argument.

The security head led the malefactor into an octagonal room with transparent doors set in each of the seven facing walls. These were the doors to the cells. All were empty; crime was not a problem on Gotham.

Ramm took his prisoner to the cell directly opposite the entrance to the room. “In here,” he said, punching in the access code. The door slid open and Ramm stepped aside so Packer could enter. “I think you'll be comfortable here. Try not to worry. I'll notify your wife.”

“Don't bother,” Packer responded dully. “My wife's visiting her sister Earthside. Just tell my assistant what's happened.” He looked around at his cell: a small square room with padded walls and a low cav couch built on a ledge. That was it. He turned back and was surprised to see Ramm had joined him in the cell.

Ramm indicated the couch and said, “Sit down. I want to talk to you.”

Packer did as he was told.

“This is the only quiet room in the detention center—all the rest are bugged,” Ramm explained. Packer kept quiet and waited for what would follow.

“Something squirrelly is going on here. I mean to find out what it is. You'd better give me the whole story, Packer. From the beginning.”

Packer stared back blankly. The chief's frown had deepened to a formidable scowl. He guessed the tall policeman could eat his weight in wildcats, and decided not to play any games.

“You talked to Williams?”

“I talked to him. It was like talking to a clam. He's scared of something and he won't open up and let it out. I thought I might see if you could enlighten me.”

“I'll try,” said Packer and began telling him about what he knew of Spence and Adjani's disappearance—which was not much because he had only heard the same rumors as everyone else.

“Yes,” said Ramm. “I've got a couple of men working on that one. Nothing much has turned up so far.”

“That's why I went to Kalnikov. Reston and Rajwandhi are friends of mine; Adjani's on my staff. I couldn't believe the rumors about them, and I wanted to find out what happened. I figured Kalnikov was the one person who might know.”

“Would it surprise you if I told you that it was my order that Kalnikov receive no visitors?”

“It was?”

“It was. He was an eyewitness and I didn't want anyone talking to him before I could. When you turned up in bed next to him, I figured you were mixed up in it. Either you knew a lot more than you were telling, or you had stumbled into something innocently. I didn't know which, but it gave me a chance to go back and talk to Williams again.”

“Well?”

"You tell me. I can't make heads or tails of this. All I know is that it doesn't take fifteen hours for a man to recover from a taser jolt. Usually only a few minutes. Williams claims the taser dart

Struck Kalnikov in the spine and pierced the spinal column, grazing the spinal cord. He says Kalnikov may be paralyzed."

“He's not paralyzed—he's sedated.”

“Are you sure?”

"Positive. Kalnikov told me himself. Rather, I got him to tell me—he can't talk, so we used an answer code. I found out that Kalnikov was trying to help Reston and Rajwandhi escape—from what, I don't know.

“He wasn't injured by the taser. You're right there. He thinks he was pumped full of sedative and muscle relaxant to keep him quiet. That's all I could get from him before I was interrupted.”

“Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.”

“That's all I know, honestly.”

“What about this Reston and the other guy. What's with them? Who were they escaping from?”

“I don't know. Kalnikov might. He saw them.”

Chief Ramm stood. “I'm inclined to believe you. Packer. I'm going to check this out. I could release you on your own recognizance, but I think you'd better stay here for a while.”

Packer moaned. “Oh, no. I was hoping you wouldn't say that.”

“Look, it's more for your own protection than anything else. Until we find out what's going on here I don't want to lose any witnesses. You know as much as Kalnikov now. I don't want you to turn up missing.”

“They wouldn't do anything to me—” bluffed Packer.

“Don't be too sure. I've got one man sedated and two others flying around in a stolen landing pod and I don't know why. I'm not so sure whoever's behind this would balk at killing off their witnesses if this gets any messier.” To Packer's disbelieving look he said, “It happens. So, just sit tight and I'll get you out of here as soon as possible. In the meantime, relax. I'll have some stat-mags brought in for you to read, and we'll be having dinner in an hour or so. It's on me.”

Chief Ramm smiled good-naturedly and went out, leaving Packer to fume in frustration.

“Just one thing, chief,” the prisoner called through the faceplate in the door.

“Yeah?”

“Don't
you
go getting into trouble.”

The chief laughed. “Don't worry. It's all in a day's work.”

“Maybe so, but I have a feeling these guys work mostly at night.”

T
HE HOVERJET DROPPED ONCE
more below the scattered cloud cover and Ari saw the ground for the first time in several hours. She viewed a lush green terrain that looked like emerald velvet rolled out in puckered wrinkles. She could see the shining silver threads of rivers winding along the deep gorges. White birds soared over the verdant landscape in vee-formed squadrons. Seeing them from above with the noonday sun gleaming on their wings they looked like strands of diamonds suspended between the blue sky and the green earth, flashing white fire as their wings sliced the misty air.

Ahead and a little to the left of the plane she could see the sharp hills rise to a promontory surrounded on three sides by jungled slopes and by a lake on the fourth. Further ahead, and blue in the hazy distance, the white peaks of mountains rose, creating a jagged line on the horizon as far as she could see.

The hoverjet made a long descent, passing over the promontory with its cluster of villages crowded at the summit and descending in tiers like stairsteps.

Ari felt she recognized the place, though she had never seen it before.

“Daddy, where are we?” she whispered. Her father was not asleep, though he had his eyes closed and his head rested on his chest.

“Hmmm?” He had sunk into black depression and would make only grunting answers to her attempts at conversation.

“Could that be India down there? I think it must be.”

This brought her father upright in his seat as his eyes snapped open.

“India, did you say?” He leaned across her and peered out the window. “It's hard to tell. It might be anywhere.”

“No, that's Darjeeling down there, I know it.”

“Could be,” he admitted, regarding his daughter carefully. “What makes you so sure?”

“I just know, that's all. Mother told me about it, described growing up there.” Just then, as her mind leaped ahead, it came to her exactly who it was that awaited them at their destination. “Oh, Daddy,” she said, gripping his hand. “If we
are
in India it can only mean one thing. We're going to see the Dream Thief.”

A SHORT WHILE LATER
the jet's forward progress slowed and then halted as it dropped to a landing below. The vegetation was so dense and the trees so close—she might have reached out and pulled leaves from their branches—she could not see the ground directly below the plane. They seemed to be landing in the forest some distance east of Darjeeling. How far east she could not tell, but the terrain glimpsed through the tall trees as the jet came down gave the impression of rising into mountains all around.

Then the plane bumped gently down and the engines ceased their droning whine. At the same instant warm, humid air flooded the cabin as the hatch popped open. Ari heard voices from outside speaking in the rapid birdsong of Hindi; this confirmed her suspicion that they were indeed in the land of the Dream Thief.

She blinked as she emerged from the cabin. The sunlight fell hot and bright from directly overhead. The moist air seemed to shimmer in waves before her eyes and the green walls of the broad-leafed forest screeched with the calls of alarmed birds and angry monkeys.

She lifted her eyes to take in her surroundings and saw a scene out of the pages of an archaeological text. Before her rose walls of massive, crumbling stone, black with age and mildew. Further along the wall a large gate stood open and beyond it a narrow tower struck out into the azure, clouded sky. They seemed to have landed in a courtyard of sorts, inside the walls of a castle.

Ari remembered her mother's description of the Dream Thief s palace and knew that she was there. She looked around with eyes filled with wonder. What had been only a dream was real; the buried memory of an unhappy little girl was fact. It had been true all along—not the imaginings of a disturbed and frightened child.

Three men approached wearing military tunics and trousers of linen. Their dark, almost black skins glistened in the sun and their black almond eyes watched the newcomers warily. One of the men wore a holster on his hip. Hocking and the others stood in consultation with the men for a moment and then Tickler came and said, “These men will take you to your quarters.”

He made it sound as if they were checking into a hotel. The men, without a word, led the captives off toward the gate and into a further courtyard beyond. This inner yard was smaller; its walls were draped in heavy vines growing out from between the stones of the yard, cracking them and prying them apart, heaving them up at angles to each other. The vines had covered everything—stunted trees, standing statues, stone benches, an ancient dry fountain—smothering all beneath a thick green blanket of glossy leaves, like the sheets thrown over the furniture of a house closed for the summer. Ari got the impression that if she stood very long in the courtyard she, too, would soon be covered over to become one of the standing objects she saw around her.

The men marched them across the decaying stones of the yard to a low-roofed portico, then under this to a tier of steps leading up into a darkened entrance. Ari reached her hand out to her father as she tripped going up the stairs. One of the guards caught her in a steely grasp and righted her. His hand lingered on her cool flesh. She jerked her arm away quickly.

They entered a room, dim and cool and quiet as a tomb. Light entered from small clover-shaped windows around a shallow domed ceiling. Dust lay thick and undisturbed on the tile floor of the hall—except for the meandering trails of insects; their footprints in the dust gave testimony to the fact that no one had visited the place in a very long time. They might have been the first visitors in a thousand years.

They were whisked across the hall and into a dark corridor which ended in a long, spiraling flight of stairs. Other, lighter passageways joined the main one at the foot of the stairs, but they went up the spiral which wound round and round and narrowed as it ascended.

At the top of these dark steps they entered a small landing with a circular hole in the vaulted roof overhead. At one end of the landing stood a large wooden door which appeared much newer than its surrounding posts and lintel, with black iron bands forming a large X across its surface.

Her first look at the interior of their cell did not dismay Ari. It was a spacious room, round with lofty, pointed windows and a wide balcony closed only by a curtain of woven wooden beads. There were oriental couches and rattan chairs and several beds piled high with cushions of red, blue, and yellow silk. A toilet stall was concealed behind a silk curtain for the privacy of its occupants. There was a marble table with carved ivory chessmen arranged neatly on its polished surface. Nearby, a great glass bowl with a crystal dipper held fresh water; next to it a smaller bowl offered fruit: small wild grapes, bananas, oranges, and several large, greenish-yellow pulpy things she could not identify.

It appeared as if the room had been newly scoured and furnished for their arrival with all the amenities one might find in a charming old hotel. But when the great wooden door slammed shut behind them she knew that they were prisoners and not guests.

“Well, here we are,” she said, trying to sound optimistic.

Director Zanderson stirred himself out of his staring reverie to gaze about the room with tired eyes. “Yes, here we are. A gilded cage for the captive birds.”

“Look, there's a balcony,” said Ari, running to it at once. “Daddy, come out here; you can see the mountains.”

“The Himalayas,” he said, joining her. “Yes, we are northeast of Darjeeling in the foothills of the Himalayas, somewhere near the old Bhutan border in Sikkim.”

“I didn't know you knew so much geography.” Ari turned a fresh, enthusiastic face to her father. The sun lit her hair with golden fire. She was trying very hard to draw her father out and cheer him up in the hope that he would abandon his moody despondency. To see him sunk so deep in his depression hurt her more than anything their abductors could have done to her. “Tell me more.”

“I don't know much more. I was only here briefly—with your mother before you were born.”

“I never knew that. You said—”