Poisoned Pawn (26 page)

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Lowell studied the mess of Luke Verity’s mansion. He half listened to com chatter in the background. Querran was right to blame him for the mess. Too early, he had been caught with his plans only half in place.

“And Dace?” Jasyn asked. She stood in the middle of the room, arms wrapped tightly around her as if to protect her from the violence that had smashed the room. She very carefully didn’t look at the covered shapes in the corner.

Jukin shook his head.

Jasyn seemed to deflate. She turned and walked out of the room again without a word. Clark followed her, put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him, her dark hair spilling free over his arm. Her braid had come loose sometime during the night.

Lowell shook his head, hiding his own frustration. Everything had gone wrong, starting with that frantic call at sunset. What was done, was done. It was time for damage control. He turned to Trey.

The director of the population survey study swallowed hard, his face a pale green that almost matched his uniform. “Do we have to meet here?”

“Is there a better room for conferencing?” Lowell asked Jukin.

Jukin spoke on his com, then waved to the shattered doorframe when he finished. “Two doors to the left.”

“Send Querran to us when she comes back,” Lowell told Jukin. He turned back to Trey. “I need information. Please, this way.”

Trey nodded, eager to leave the room. He couldn’t help staring at the bloodstains spattered across the walls. His complexion paled even further.

They crunched across shattered glass in the hall to the door Jukin indicated. An empty space where the outside wall and window used to be were the only traces of the fight. Lowell swept debris off a round table and pulled out a stack of sheets.

“Fetch some chairs, please,” he told Trey as he spread the papers out. The only light in the room spilled in from the emergency lights set up outside. Dawn was still a few hours away.

Lowell stepped through the sagging outer wall and went to the flitter. Querran argued over the com. She flicked an unreadable glance at Lowell as he rummaged through the storage compartment under the seats of the flitter.

“In there,” Lowell said, pointing at the room he’d just left. “Soon?” Lowell pulled a lantern from the compartment.

She held up two fingers. “You have my authorization. He can’t deny you,” she said into the com.

Lowell left her to her argument.

Trey had found several chairs and brushed off the worst of the dust and glass. He had them pulled up around the table. Lowell set the lantern on the table and turned it on. White light spilled over the papers. Lowell tapped one, changing the picture on it several times.

The first picture showed shots of the gardens, lit only by the lamps on the patio. People in evening wear talked and drank on the patio. Lowell magnified the faces, studying each one for a moment before moving on.

Trey fidgeted with a map of the surrounding area, curling one corner into a roll and flattening it over and over.

“Do you recognize any of them?” Lowell asked.

Trey glanced at the pictures. “Never seen any of them before. Who are they?”

“The scum of the Empire. This one,” he tapped the page, “is suspected of running a slave ring out beyond the frontier worlds. He supplies most of the underworld brothels for three different sectors. Interesting that he would be here.”

Lowell moved on to a different picture. “Smugglers, drug runners, hit men, the whole gang,” he said, mostly to himself.

“What are they doing here?” Trey asked. “There isn’t anything on Burundia except forest. Ninety-nine percent of the land is wildlife preserves.”

“And the other one percent?” Lowell asked.

“Rich people’s houses,” Trey answered. “…Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. Burundia is very much a private system. Even the Patrol has to get permission to land.” He looked out the ruined window at the flitter. Querran ran a hand through her hair, her expression frustrated. She spoke into the com, still arguing. He debated using his own authority to force the issue. No, Burundia was her jurisdiction. Besides, he hated revealing his rank, which was why most of his uniforms lacked insignia. He looked back at the pictures of the party that had been so fatally interrupted.

He found Dace in one, standing at the far side of the patio, clutching a drink so tightly her hands were white. Her face was pale, her eyes frightened. He enlarged her picture. Luke Verity must have done something awful to her. Dace was not one to cringe. She wore a pastel green dress that floated around her, revealing more than concealing. He found her again, in the pictures taken by surveillance right before Larkin had been captured at the gate by guards that weren’t supposed to be there.

Why a gate? The only way to access the estate was by flitter. Burundia’s forests had no roads, no foot trails, nothing to mar the wilderness except the isolated estates. Lowell pulled over the sheet with the aerial photos of the area. A thin track led away from the gate. He traced it with his finger until it disappeared under the smothering canopy of trees. Lowell went back to the surveillance pictures. He tapped the sheet, thinking. He ran his finger across the map. The road led to nowhere, tracing a winding path along a relatively flat ridge to a knob several miles away.

“What’s here?” Lowell asked Trey, tapping the knob on the map.

“Rocks, as far as I know. The bushies avoid it so we haven’t looked.”

Lowell pulled out his com and thumbed it. Jukin answered. “How is the search going?”

“Slowly,” Jukin said. “Boline and his team flushed a dozen. They’re stuck in a tunnel. Paltronis is working her way over to get them out. Are we getting help soon, sir?”

“As soon as Chief Querran can get them landed, which won’t be for a day or two. Do your best, Jukin, and try to keep the casualties low.” Lowell signed off then sat, tapping the com against his lip as he studied the map.

“Are my people safe?” Trey asked.

“There were a few caught too close. I’m sorry, Trey. The rest have been pulled back to the camp.”

Trey ran hands through his red hair. It stuck up, looking almost comical. Trey’s face had aged in the last few hours. He took this latest bad news with only a grimace.

“We’re sending them back to camp, Trey. We did the best we could. It was too soon.”

“I get to identify their bodies and send them home. It won’t be the first time.” Trey tried to sound as calm as Lowell did but failed. “We did warn them it was a dangerous survey. I can tell their families that the bushies got them. It’s happened before.”

“It might be better than telling the truth. I’m not sure if your reputation will be worse or better if they know you were involved in taking down a crime lord. I’ll make sure you get sufficient funds to compensate their families.”

Lowell turned back to the photos, tapping the knob of rock. Something was not quite right about it. He couldn’t figure out what made him twitch, though. He looked through the photos of the people at the party. His eyes picked out Dace. Her pale face haunted him. Where had she gone? Was she buried somewhere, dead in the rubble? He didn’t have men to spare to hunt through the entire mansion. They had their hands full removing the last of the resistance and trying to catch the real quarry. Luke Verity had also disappeared. Lowell didn’t allow himself to think of what Luke would do with Dace if he found out she wasn’t Arramiya Daviessbrowun. It looked like Luke had Dace, where else would she have disappeared to?

His eye caught another face in the pictures, a man standing near Dace. His thin face and ginger hair were familiar. Lowell racked his brain trying to place the man. He’d seen him before, something to do with Dace. He enlarged the picture, focusing on the man’s face. Dace watched the man out of the side of her eyes, her fear plain to read if one knew what to look for.

“Stupid Planetary Authority,” Querran said as she walked through the window, glass crunching. “He wasn’t going to let my men land. Until I threatened to put the whole planet under military law. As it is, the shuttles have to land at the port and use flitters to get here. Should be by tomorrow evening.”

“I hope it isn’t too late,” Lowell said, letting some of his anxiety show.

Querran settled at the table, a frown creasing her face. “What is it, Lowell? I’ve never seen you upset over anything before. What are you afraid of?”

“We need more men. We can’t search fast enough.” He rubbed his hand over his upper lip, a nervous gesture he rarely let anyone see. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

“No sign of her?”

“Or of Luke Verity. Or of half these people.” He flicked his finger at the photos spread over the table.

“The cruisers will stop anyone who tries to leave the planet. And I have fifty well trained troops who will be here tomorrow. And several hundred more if we need them.” She shot a glance at Trey.

“They’ll ruin our data,” Trey said automatically. He didn’t look as if he cared about the bushies anymore.

“And you didn’t think the cruisers were necessary.” Querran nudged Lowell. She’d waited years to catch him at a disadvantage. Ever since that sim at the Academy, the first time he’d pulled the unexpected and made her look stupid. She’d almost given up hope of getting him back. It didn’t feel as good as she thought it would.

Lowell didn’t answer. He stared at the pictures, at the one that showed a closeup of a very frightened young woman.

“What is so important about her?” Querran asked. “Luke Verity isn’t that important, not yet. You could have left him to me. Why this woman, Grant?” She sensed this was deeper than just retrieving a kidnap victim and breaking up a fledging syndicate.

Grant Lowell looked at Querran, met her eyes. “You have grandchildren, Suella. You should understand.”

“She got to you, didn’t she? Who is she, really? I tried accessing her file, using the name you gave me. I got the strangest pile of half lies I’ve ever read.”

“She’s an independent trader, who happens to own a ship with the charming Jasyn Pai. Just as her file says.” Lowell shifted the picture. Another shot of the man who was almost familiar filled the sheet.

“Someday, Lowell, you owe me her story.” Querran leaned back, crossing her arms and yawning.

“Help me find her, alive, and I’ll owe you much more than that.” Lowell turned the picture. His memory shifted and he remembered the man. He smiled and then frowned. “What is he doing here?”

“Who?” Querran leaned over the table to look at the picture.

“A miserable excuse for a pirate named Dysun Farr. I thought he was safely locked away. He hasn’t learned to pick better company.” He stood up from the table. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We don’t have time.”

“I think we need to make time. Tell me about this pirate. And about Dace.”

Lowell shot a look at Trey. The other man stared unseeing at the sheets on the table, his face pale and worn.

Lowell tapped his hand. Trey looked up, his expression blank. “Trey, go find Clark and help him ferry people back to the camp. Check on your people on the way. Clark can land where you need him to.”

Trey nodded without speaking and got to his feet. He crossed through the rubble and went outside.

“He isn’t going to be much good,” Querran said.

“Quite the contrary,” Lowell said, sitting back down. “He’ll keep his people out of our way and safely in their camp.”

“What is really going on, Lowell? What mess of yours is this? What games are you playing with me and my people? And don’t you dare tell me I don’t have clearance. I want answers.”

Lowell shook his head. “I’m not playing games.”

“Then tell me,” Querran said.

“How current are your classified clearances?”

“How high, Lowell?”

“If Dace’s record didn’t give you a clue, I shouldn’t be talking to you at all.”

“That high?” Querran looked surprised. “How high before I get her real story?”

“All the way to the top,” Lowell said. “She has a knack for getting into situations.”

“She’s an agent, isn’t she? I’ve heard about your organization. You’re a legend.”

“Dace is not an agent, though I have offered that position to her several times. She keeps turning me down.”

Querran laughed, a short bark. “Someone told you no and made it stick. I never thought I’d hear you admit that.” She leaned across the table and tapped the photo. “Who is he and why is this important?”

“Have you heard of Dadilan?”

Querran’s eyes went round. “Yes. At least the official vague rumors. And some unofficial ones that would worry anyone.”

“They’re probably true. Although I doubt the drug shara will be available anymore. Dace did quite a thorough job of destroying the place where it was being made. Quite by accident.”

“She was mixed up in that? And she isn’t an agent.” Disbelief made her voice harsh.

“Believe what you will, Suella. Dysun Farr was there, too. He knows her. He could have betrayed her to Luke Verity. Dysun Farr believes she’s Patrol. We have to find her. Soon.” His eyes showed regret and pain. “I didn’t plant her here. I didn’t expect this. Clark was there to prevent something like this.”

“The whole situation is a disaster,” Querran said.

“So let’s rescue what we can. And hope we don’t have too many regrets afterwards.”

They didn’t say anything as the flitter outside lifted off. Air rushed through the room, smelling of smoke and pine.

Lowell’s com crackled. He thumbed it on.

“I think you need to come, sir,” Jukin said, his voice full of static. “The teams have pulled back. They shut blast doors in the tunnels. We found something you need to see, sir.”

Lowell shut off the com and stood. Querran stood with him, facing him across the table.

“You’re human, Lowell. You do have a heart after all.”

“I just hope it doesn’t get us all killed.” Lowell lifted the lantern off the table. “Would you mind bringing those?” He waved his hand at the sheets on the table.

Querran slid them together and picked them up as she followed Lowell from the room.

His men were gathered in a huge foyer just down the hall from the ruined dining room. A short furry creature hunched in the middle of the floor, rocking side to side and moaning.