Oracle (18 page)

"He's going to see her right now,” said the Injun, as the city came to a surprisingly abrupt end and they suddenly found themselves the vast expanse of red desert that had given the planet its name.

"He could be going almost anywhere,” responded Broussard, concentrating on the narrow road that seemed so out of place on the red sand.

The Injun shook his head. “He's going to see her,” he repeated.

"How do you know?"

"We know she doesn't live in the city, and we know that he's transporting food to her.” The Injun paused. “I hope you've got more fuel than he does. I'd hate to think of losing him out here—and even more, I hate to think of roasting to death in this goddamned landcar. It must be 60 degrees Celsius outside."

"It's not a problem, sir,” answered Broussard. “This vehicle has an auxiliary power plant that utilizes solar batteries. The one place we won't get stranded is the desert."

"He's not going to stay in the desert for long."

"Oh?” said Broussard dubiously.

"If he was headed to the next city, it would have been more practical to ship the food via public transportation. His destination is somewhere up ahead, not too far away—and it won't be in the desert, because any structure that was built here would stand out like a sore thumb.” He pointed to some large rock outcroppings about sixteen kilometers to the southeast. “My guess is that he's heading there."

"It makes sense when you say it that way, sir,” admitted Broussard. “But..."

"But you think it's too pat?"

"Well, frankly, yes."

The Injun smiled. “The simpler something is, the less can go wrong with it. That applies equally to machines and hideouts."

Broussard shrugged. “You're the expert."

The Injun leaned forward again, checked the blinking light on the grid, then laid a hand gently on Broussard's shoulder. “Come to a stop."

"But we'll lose him. He's already eight or nine miles ahead of us."

"Believe me, he's going to stop at those rocks up ahead,” said the Injun. “But we're starting to raise a cloud of dust from all the sand that's blown onto the road, and I don't want him to see it."

"All right,” said Broussard, reluctantly slowing the vehicle to a dead stop.

"Pull off the road."

Broussard shook his head. “I don't dare, sir. We'll sink into the sand."

"It's that soft?"

"And that deep,"

"I wonder how they ever managed to keep the road itself from sinking?” asked the Injun, curious.

"Beats the hell out of me, sir.” Broussard pulled out a pair of small Antarrean cigars and offered one to the Injun. “Care for a smoke, sir?"

"Filthy habit."

"Would you rather I didn't smoke?” asked Broussard.

The Injun shrugged. “Suit yourself. I figure everyone's allowed at least one weakness."

Broussard stared at the cigars for a long moment, then sighed and replaced them in his tunic.

"How long do you intend to remain here, sir?"

"How far ahead of us is he now?"

Broussard checked the grid. “About twelve kilometers."

"I suppose we might as well get going again,” said the Injun as the last of the dust cloud dissipated. “If we start raising too much dust, stop. Even if we lose him on the screen, we'll catch up with him at the rocks up ahead."

The vehicle began moving forward, and when they were within six kilometers of the rocky outcroppings, Broussard announced that Vrief Domo's vehicle had stopped.

"It's somewhere in that field of rocks, as you said, sir."

"There's gotta be some buildings hidden in there,” said the Injun. “Is that grid of yours good enough to tell us which one he enters?"

"No problem,” answered Broussard. “I can pinpoint his location whenever you want."

The Indian considered this, then shook his head. “Not good enough. If this is her headquarters, there could be half a dozen structures, and Domo could have business in three or four of them. I need to know where he drops off the food.” He paused. “Does the road run through the rocks, or around them?"

"Around them."

"Can you tell if there's more than one building in the rocks?"

"To be honest, sir, I didn't know there were any buildings there."

The Injun sighed. “Too bad. I guess we do it the hard way."

"The hard way?"

"Get me as close to the rocks as you can and let me off. I've got to find out if there's more than one building, and if there is, I have to figure out which one the Oracle is in."

"That won't be as hard as you think, sir,” said Broussard. “The grid detaches from the control panel. You can take it with you."

"I'm going to carry that thing over uneven terrain in this unholy heat without being spotted by the best-protected person on the planet, and you don't think it'll be hard?” said the Injun wryly.

"I merely meant that—"

"Never mind, never mind,” said the Injun. “Just get me to the edge of the rocks."

"It's about three kilometers from one end to the other,” said Broussard as they approached the outcroppings. “Then the desert starts again. Shall I wait for you here or on the far side?"

"Right here. I don't think we've been spotted yet. Why take any chances?"

"Actually, sir,” said Broussard thoughtfully, “I suppose it doesn't really matter where I wait for you. If the Oracle's got the gift of precognition, as most members of the embassy seem to believe, then she knows you're here to terminate her."

"No she doesn't,” said the Injun confidently.

Broussard frowned. “But—"

"She can't foresee what was never going to happen, and I have no intention of confronting her today. I just want to know where to find her.” He stared at Broussard. “You look unconvinced."

"Whether you confront her today or tomorrow or next week, the end result is the same: you mean to do her harm at some point in the future. So why wouldn't she dispose of you right now, before you can threaten her?"

"There has to be a limit to her powers,” answered the Injun. “The fact that I'm still alive means we're still beyond it."

"She might simply be waiting for you to approach on foot,” suggested Broussard.

"She might be,” agreed the Injun. “But I don't think so. If planning to kill her was enough to elicit a response from her, she could have killed me, or had me killed, half a dozen times since I landed. I have a feeling that she either can't foresee anything but an immediate physical threat to her, or else she's so secure in her powers that she's not concerned until she's threatened. Either way,” he concluded with a wry smile, “I've got to find out exactly where she is before I can threaten her."

"How do you even approach someone who can see the future?"

The Injun smiled. “When the time comes, you'll be the first to know."

"You seem awfully sure of yourself, sir,” said Broussard.

"This is my business, and I'm damned good at it.” The Injun glanced out the window. “Start slowing down, then stop behind that big rock that's coming up on the right."

Broussard did as he was instructed.

"Good,” said the Injun, detaching the grid, opening the door, and wincing as he stepped out into the oppressive heat. He took a few tentative steps along the side of the road, then turned back to Broussard. “The ground's a lot harder here. Pull off the road and move alongside the rock. If anyone else comes along, they'll pass right by and never know you were here."

Broussard nodded and edged the vehicle off the road, and the Injun began climbing to the top of a rocky outcropping. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but he checked the grid and found that Domo's position had not changed appreciably in the past few minutes, which implied there had to be something hidden back there among the rocks and boulders.

He had gone almost half a mile, keeping well off the road and hiding among the myriad outcroppings, when he finally saw the first building. It resembled nothing more than a purple glass pyramid some twenty feet on a side, and he was more annoyed than surprised to note that it possessed neither windows nor a discernable door. He looked at the grid again, and found that he was still half a mile away from Vrief Domo.

He continued his slow, cautious approach, and finally he came to it. He didn't have to check the grid or search for Domo's vehicle to know he had reached his goal. Nestled in a small depression beneath a huge outcropping was a building—palace would have described it better, as would fortress, except that both words seemed somehow inadequate—that covered the equivalent of a Quichancha city block.

The structure was irregular and many-sided. Walls rose to enormous heights and then angled back down for no apparent reason. The roof was a hodgepodge of colored quartz and a shining metal that seemed to shimmer with all the colors of the spectrum. A private road, covered by some incredibly hard plastic that showed no sign of melting in the heat, led up to a huge triangular door that he assumed was a garage for numerous vehicles. Here and there were artifacts that looked like fountains, but none of them seemed to have any water, and he had no idea what function they fulfilled.

The building was beautifully camouflaged: between the rocks and the depression, there was no way to spot it from overhead, and a huge row of boulders had been positioned in such a way as to shield it from the view of passing vehicles. Only in one location could a driver turn off the road and slip his landcar between two of the boulders and then onto the plastic surface.

Half a dozen Blue Devils were walking in intricate individual patterns around the grounds. They didn't seem to be carrying any weapons, and the Injun couldn't tell if they were guards, residents of the huge building, or were simply carrying out some duty so alien that he couldn't begin to comprehend it.

The grid was going wild, and, afraid that it might start beeping as well as blinking, he quickly deactivated it. He was still wearing his eyepatch; he wanted very badly to remove it, to get a more thorough view of the building and its surroundings, but he was afraid that 32 would record the image and bring in some expert to identify the rock formations at this particular point, and he hadn't gone to all the trouble of finding the Oracle's hideout just to broadcast it to 32 and his whole department.

He squatted down in the shadow of a large overhang and spent the next ten minutes studying the layout, and taking holographs with the tiny camera he had brought along for the purpose. When he finally felt himself beginning to dehydrate from the heat, he carefully retreated, still staying well clear of the road, until he came to the spot where Broussard had hidden the vehicle.

"God, it's hot out there!” he panted, leaning back and luxuriating in the conditioned air of the vehicle.

"People weren't built to live in this kind of heat,” agreed Broussard. “Sometimes I think even the Blue Devils look uncomfortable in this weather.” He paused. “Did you find her?"

"I think so."

"You think so?” repeated Broussard.

"I didn't see her,” answered the Injun, “but I'll be awfully surprised if she's not there."

"Did you find a way in?"

"I'm working on it."

"What now?"

The Injun leaned back comfortably, clasped his hands behind his head, and shut his eyes.

"Now we go back to Quichancha and wait."

"Wait for what?” asked Broussard.

"For any number of things,” said the Injun serenely. “For certain funds to be transferred. For the Whistler to show up. For the Oracle to make another mistake."

"Another mistake?"

The Injun nodded. “She should have killed me this afternoon. I was unarmed and on foot, and I couldn't have run fifty yards in that heat.” He paused. “She has her limitations. She can't see far enough ahead to know that the next time I come back I'm going to kill her."

"I still don't see how you plan to do it, sir,” said Broussard, putting the vehicle in motion and starting to head back toward Quichancha.

The Injun smiled tranquilly. “Neither does she."

"But you do have a plan?"

"Absolutely."

"Would you care to share it with me?"

"You'll know it when the time comes,” answered the Injun.

"If I know it, won't the Oracle know it too?"

"Very likely."

"Then she'll be able to prevent it."

The Injun shook his head. “Knowing it won't do her the least bit of good."

"I don't understand, sir,” said Broussard.

"Neither will she,” said the Injun, smiling again. “I almost feel sorry for her."

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Part 3:
THE JADE QUEEN'S BOOK
18.

Chandler remained in his rooming house for three days following the attempts on his life, leaving only to have dinner each night at the Wolfman's restaurant. He considered meeting with some of the Surgeon's former clientele and going through the motions of soliciting business, but decided against it. After all, both the Oracle and the Democracy had tried to kill him; there didn't seem to be any reason to try to maintain his cover.

On the fourth night, as he entered the restaurant accompanied by Gin, who had resumed his duties though his injured shoulder was still heavily-bandaged, the Wolfman spotted him and immediately approached him.

"Follow me, please,” he said, leading them to a small circular room at the back of the restaurant, where Lord Lucifer sat at a hexagonal table.

"Good evening, Mr. Chandler,” said Lord Lucifer.

"Good evening,” replied Chandler, looking around the room as Gin seated himself at the table. Finally he took a small device out of his pocket and pressed it against a wall, where it remained when he took his hand away.

"What's that?” asked the Wolfman.

"An anti-eavesdropping device,” answered Chandler. “It'll scramble any signals that might leave this room."

"You're a very careful man, Mr. Chandler,” said Lord Lucifer.

"That's how I stay alive."

"Can I bring you anything, Whistler?” asked the Wolfman. “I just got in a shipment of Cygnian cognac."

"Later."

"Dinner, perhaps?"

"We'll let you know."

The Wolfman shrugged and went back into the restaurant while Chandler seated himself at the table and waited for Gin and Lord Lucifer to do the same.