Pegasus in Flight (29 page)

So she missed seeing Flimflam violently propelled backward to crash against the wall. She missed the explosive entrance of Sascha, Rhyssa, Dave Lehardt, and the Talent teams. And she missed the other excitements that would have given her immense satisfaction.

CHAPTER 17

“Commissioner,” Ranjit said, “that’s a diplomatic registration.”

“I wouldn’t care if it was God himself, Lieutenant,” the LEO commissioner answered. “Law Enforcement and Order means just that from bottom to top, and right on down the line again. Or it’s privilege, not law enforcement and order!” He measured the distance on the huge display map, from the South Shore train yard to the Riverside address. “Assign the best driver we’ve got to shadow that CD. And I want that beehive—not just the penthouse lift or the domestic floors but that entire complex—secured. Whoever is in that car could go to ground anywhere. Pack all entries with sensitives. Tell them to home in on any strong emotion—we may get a lot of wash on this. You know how hivers hate to have their privacy broached.” He turned to another aide. “Barry, get me the city manager and tell her this is a sensitive affair. I want her forewarned so she can back us with the Corps. Feed the situation through Judicial and get me four—no, make it
five—John Does and a search warrant. And let’s hope that Sascha’s efficient.”

He shrugged on his tunic top, resplendent with the “bravery bars” and braid, then strapped on sidearms and gestured for Ranjit and his other aides to follow him to the rooftop garage. Jet- and aircars were spinning off along usual routes, having been instructed to move circumspectly.

Sascha?
Boris linked with his brother as his aircar took off.

Nearly there, Bro. It still takes time to drive a car from there to here. The other bird has not flown—holy hell, what’s happening? Back to you later.

Boris felt the abruptness of the mental break and cursed under his breath as his aircar plowed on to his destination. The pause lengthened, causing him some anxiety. Surely Sascha was competent enough. Should he have sent men with the Center teams? If the child-dealers at the railyard should get a warning through to his own quarry, the whole operation might be jeopardized.

My God, Boris—
Sascha’s voice burst in on him like a bellow—
if you let that Shimaz slime ooze out of this, Highness, Prince, manager, or whatever, I promise you that the Talents will handle him
ex officio!

The LEO commissioner had never before heard such vindictiveness in his brother’s voice.

Boris:
What happened?

Sascha:
The Venerable Revered Ponsit Prosit used a bastinado on Tirla’s feet. And Peter’s collapsed!

Boris:
Flimflam didn’t get a message off, did he?
If the man had, they might lose the most important criminal.

Sascha, livid with rage:
No, not when he had a little girl to interrogate! Make it stick on that other bastard, will you? Or, by all that’s holy, I will. Myself with no help from any other agency, dear LEO Bro.

Boris:
LEO is on the move, Sascha. You hang onto your temper. Have you got the other children? Have we any proof of complicity?

Sascha, sarcastically:
I don’t suppose Tirla’s bloody feet count for more than assault and GBH. But we also took possession of a case full of many too many floaters, ready for a night deposit, complete with an account number I’ll bet can be traced to the Venerable Revered.

Boris:
That should be enough to convict Flimflam. But is there enough to catch this—what did you call him?

Sascha:
Shimaz, Prince Phanibal Shimaz, who seems to be a whiz at more than Josephson junctions. Flimflam’s spilling his guts: His Highness has rather an extensive operation—child labor in his rice paddies and mines, child prostitution, and a child farm where the healthiest are kept that way until someone can pay for the organ they need.

Boris, growling:
Get me something to link him to that yard. Something that will stick!

They were well on the way when the comlink heralded a connection from Commissioner Aiello. She appeared on the cabin screen dressed in formal attire. Hovering beside her was her protocol officer, Jak, who, for all his empathy, could at times be quite tiresome about details.

“Do you have incontrovertible proof, Roznine?” she asked.

“We have proof of a connection which is incompatible with any diplomatic occupation,” Boris replied, setting his jaw.

“Who? Surely not the ambassador!” At that moment, Teresa Aiello was depressed with pessimism.

“We are not after his Excellency, so Jak can relax. Members of his Corps, certainly, and an embassy vehicle has been identified and traced from the abduction site. There’s no problem of proving involvement. Is the DA there, too? Well, give the old dog a comforting word in his shell-like ear. The Talents have cracked this abduction ring.” The last he admitted ruefully, for despite protests to the contrary, he and his brother were in constant competition.

The massive beehive was aptly nicknamed. Its bottom levels along the block-square bulk, where other buildings obscured views, housed maintenance, storage, and worker accommodations. Where the hive rose above its neighbors, there were great curved plasglas panels that were part solar-heating, part prestigious display of wealth. Each pie-shaped apartment boasted luxuriant gardens and views from the outer wall, and where the hive had an atrium core, rare plants and trees festooned the inner walls. Naturally the top apartments were the most exclusive and expensive, with one whole floor given over to private garden and garage facilities, swimming pools, game courts, and whatever other amenities the residents expected, to secure the ultimate of comfort.

Is the surround complete yet, Ranjit?
Boris asked on his helmet corn unit.

Just now—completely ringed, sir. No one can get in or out without being observed.

“Commissioner,” Boris’s pilot said, “here comes the suspect vehicle now.”

The sleek white jetcar swooped to settle and deposit its passengers on the roof of the hive.

“Three men!”

“I can see that myself,” Boris said. “Secure that jetter the moment it’s garaged. See what you can get the pilot to say. Grab the log, and any garage records. And now—” He could not keep the satisfaction out of his voice. “Let’s get the bastards.”

The LEO pilot put them down on the hive roof, and Boris Roznine and his squad made for the ramp down to the entrance level of the penthouse. Seeing the formal and formidable attire of the LEO commissioner and his aide, the door attendant hurried to open it. His bow was respectful and nervous.

“What are you doing, you naga? I’m not expecting guests!” exclaimed the man at the other end of the magnificent white marbled reception hall. A servant was just assisting the removal of his elegant blue suede long coat while a second man was also shrugging, unassisted, out of his own outerwear. “Exclude them immediately.”

“I think not, Prince Phanibal,” Boris said, stepping forward while sending Ranjit a quick thought about reinforcements.

The prince’s companion moved with astonishing speed out the nearest of the many doors leading from the entry hall while the paralyzed doorman gaped.

“Is His Excellency at home?” Boris asked, some glimmer of Jak’s protocol lessons seeping through his anger. The doorman fearfully nodded before the prince ordered him not to respond.

“How dare you—whoever you are—enter a diplomatic residence without invitation?” Prince Phanibal demanded, his expression haughty and totally confident. His gaze ignored the lieutenant by Boris’s side and the detachment standing just outside the door.

“Boris Roznine, commissioner for Law Enforcement and Order in Jerhattan!” Boris turned to the awed and shaking doorman. “Please beg His Excellency’s indulgence and request an immediate interview on a matter of grave urgency.”

The attendant, ignoring the prince’s countermands and threats, opened a hidden door and disappeared. He had no sooner gone than all the other doors of the entrance hall swung open and a number of large men filed in with military precision. Three, black-robed and turbaned, with silver-mounted belts and daggers which were exactly the legal length permitted display guards, immediately flanked the prince.

Boris did not need to look over his shoulder to know that the LEO officers just outside the doorway, carrying the weaponry legal for them, outnumbered the embassy guards and were quite ready to force an entry. He waited a moment for the prince to absorb that fact.

“I believe that we now await His Excellency’s appearance,” he said with a grim and ungenial smile and, in studied insult to a royal person, seated himself on the nearest decorative bench.

“Do you not understand the repercussions this unwarranted intrusion—” Prince Phanibal began imperiously. “I am not only a royal prince of my house but a manager of the Padrugoi. I am due back on the platform on the next shuttle.”

“That is why I, as LEO commissioner, am here to explain personally to the ambassador,” Boris replied.
Is this the guy who’s been giving Rhyssa so much grief? Perhaps if we both try, we can probe his mind,
he sent to Sascha.
It’s not admissible evidence in court since it’s under duress, but it’ll give us some clues.

There was a brief pause as the brothers tried to breach the prince’s mind. Then Boris pulled back.
He’s got a dense mind shield. He’s had careful conditioning, and I’d love to know where. No, we can’t break it, not without breaking the law.

The slightest of smiles tugged at the corner of the prince’s mouth and his eyes narrowed, hiding smug pleasure at deflecting the mental intrusion. He raised his left hand briefly, his fingers closing as if on some accustomed possession. Then he threw his fingers open in vexation and raised the arm indolently across his chest, the smile broadening.

“Perhaps you have mislaid your little stick,” Boris heard himself saying. Sascha was there!
Saving time and effort, brother?
Boris asked.

The little stick which made raw meat of Tirla’s feet,
Sascha said savagely.

Prince Phanibal stiffened in surprise. “I—what?”

“The little switch that you are fond of carrying as an affectation, for you don’t own any—animals—I believe,” the Boris/Sascha link continued. “The one with the ivory handle and the rather unusual filigree design.”

“I do not have to account for my possessions to such as you,” Prince Phanibal replied as he angled himself obliquely from Boris, tilting his chin arrogantly to display what many probably considered a handsome profile.

At that point the ambassador, clad in a deep purple velvet robe with exquisite gold designs, entered from the central door. He cast one startled look at the prince and his pose, another at the group by the door, then signaled for the guards to withdraw. Boris Roznine rose and walked forward to meet the Malaysian.

“Due to the gravity of this situation, Your Excellency,” he said, speaking on his own although he knew that Sascha was listening avidly, “you will permit me to dispense with formalities. This man”—he gestured to the aloof prince—“and another have been involved in activities incompatible with any function in your embassy. I must ask you to instruct His Highness and his companion to accompany me to the LEO headquarters.”

“With what could the Prince Phanibal be charged?” the ambassador asked with great dignity.

“The charge is indeed grave, Your Excellency, for there has been traffic in abducting minors and subjecting them to illicit bondage for the purpose of slave labor, unlawful intercourse, and organ removal.”

“You have proof of such a heinous crime?” The ambassador drew himself more erect, but he did not appear to be all that surprised.

“Yes, Your Excellency.” Boris inclined his head with a nod of regret. The ambassador was too fine an old man to be saddled with such a scandal. “There are witnesses!” the Boris/Sascha link continued, supporting Boris’s reply. “Talented witnesses.”

The prince snorted his disbelief, his poise undisturbed. “Such a claim tries all patience. You will dismiss these deceivers, Uncle.”

Sascha:
This bugger’s clever.

Boris:
He hasn’t turned a hair or admitted a thing.

Sascha:
Does he think all Talents are adults?

Boris:
Tirla
is
on the official Register, is she not?

Sascha:
Didn’t you read the ID bracelet you got her six weeks ago? And there are four of the ladrones, spilling their guts to avoid being spaced, confirming what we’ve got out of Flimflam for turning State’s evidence—his mind took very little pressure when he regained consciousness. That was some scam they had going. Furthermore, it was the dear prince who infiltrated LEO programs and filched the strand formula. He had all the special clearance passwords because he was working on Padrugoi and doing all that fine work with the Josephson junctions. He browsed and took what he needed. Got his island laboratory to perfect a variation for Flimflam to use as a special effect in those REs he put on. We have all the details needed to implicate the prince and that secretary of his. Returned from the religious institutions and a period of meditation in the Far East? He was planning the whole thing with Prince Phanibal’s backing.
Sascha’s snort of contempt was so strong that Boris grunted.

The ambassador turned his head slightly over one shoulder in Prince Phanibal’s direction. “I will not dismiss them, Nephew. Talent cannot be forsworn.” Then he regarded Boris steadily for a moment and beckoned for the prince to step forward. “You will go with them.”

“But I cannot be arrested like a common criminal!”

“Oh, indeed, Nephew, you are an uncommon criminal, for diplomatic immunity does not shield pederasts,” the old man said in a voice that was leached of all emotion.

“You cannot permit such insult to our name,” the prince said, slapping his fists to his legs in his barely contained frustration and anger. “My father will hear of this. You will hear of this. You will be disgraced! You will never return to your home. Your children and your children’s children are dog meat . . .”

Ignoring him, the Malaysian ambassador strode to the nearest door and closed it firmly behind him. The guards moved to cover each of the doorways, subtly removing official protection from the prince.