Without a Front (43 page)

CHAPTER 69
Smuggler's revenge

 

Though Micah had wholeheartedly agreed
with Tal's idea for disciplining those boys—and had quite enjoyed playing his part in it—he was impatient to get to the real point of their trip.

The man waiting for them looked slightly more pleasant than his file image and a great deal more pleasant than the last time Micah had seen him. He well remembered the crooked nose and flat features, and thought with some satisfaction that Tal had probably made that nose a little more crooked herself.

“You're Lancer Tal?” he asked incredulously as they walked in the small room.

She drew out the single empty chair on the other side of the small table—the only furniture in the room—and sat down. “Yes, I am.”

“Funny, I thought you were taller. Hey, wait a tick.” Donvall looked more closely at her, then sat back with a broad grin. “You were there! Different hair, different eyes, but I'd never forget that little slip who threw me into the air. You've got a punch like a dokker's kick. I never saw it coming.”

“That was the point,” she said dryly.

Micah hid a smile at the “little slip” reference. If Tal hadn't already decked him once, she'd have wanted to after that.

Donvall sobered. “It never occurred to me that the Lancer herself would grace us with her presence. We weren't important enough.”

“You were recruiting high empaths. That made you important enough.”

“I knew it! Spawn of a fantenshekken!” He looked up at Micah and Gehrain, who were flanking the door. “Get rid of them. I'm not talking to anyone but you.”

“They're my personal guards,” Tal said without taking her eyes off him. “I trust them with my life. If that isn't good enough for you, then this interview is already over.”

He glared at her, then at Micah, and finally sat back in his chair. “Fine. Let's just get the ground rules established. I tell you what I know, and you transfer me out of this Fahla-forsaken place, agreed?”

“If your information leads us somewhere, yes. If it's a waste of my time, then you'll learn there are worse places than Level Three.”

He raised his hands. “No need for threats. I know what's down there, and I have no intention of getting a personal look. My information is real.”

“If that's true, I'll authorize your transfer. If someone is betraying the trust of their office, I want them.” Tal's back went stiff. “You must be joking. You're trying to probe
me?
How badly do you want out of here?”

Now Micah wanted to deck him. He shifted his weight, drawing Donvall's eye, and sent him a death glare.

Donvall quickly looked back at Tal. “Just checking to see if you're telling the truth.”

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing. You're like one of the walls in here.”

“Then you'll have to take me at my word. Unlike most of your acquaintances, my word means something to me.”

He gazed at her in silence, then rested his arms on the table and leaned forward. “All right. Here's the truth. You didn't get everyone in your raid.”

“I was expecting you to tell me something I didn't know.”

“Yes, but the one person you didn't get was my newest member. Don't you find it interesting that you got every high-level person but one? Why did he escape the net?”

When Tal didn't answer, he added, “Would you also find it interesting that this individual is the same one who came up with the bright idea of recruiting high empaths?”

Now she leaned forward as well. “Yes, I would find that very interesting.”

He grinned. “I thought you might. His name is Telmurine Hallwell. He was recommended by my associate in the Anti-Corruption Task Force.”

“So you have someone inside the task force.”

“Of course. The moment it was created, I made it my business to buy someone inside it.”

Micah's anger rose. Donvall spoke as if finding someone corrupt inside that task force was the easiest thing in the world. Sadly, it probably was.

“Who is it?” Tal asked.

“A merchant by the name of Falton Mor. Highly placed, very powerful. He made sure my name never came up in any investigations. So when he recommended Hallwell, I trusted him. And Hallwell had some good ideas. He helped us increase our profits. I wasn't excited about his idea of recruiting high empaths, but he talked us into it. Very persuasive man, Hallwell. And he was right; they cleared our way through a lot of otherwise expensive hurdles. Our profits went up again.”

“But those same high empaths brought you to the attention of the task force, without Mor having to give them your name.”

“That's what I think. I've been thinking a lot down here. And I think I was set up, very neatly. Hallwell came in, learned the operation, and then tipped off the task force. How did you know we were meeting in the warehouse then?”

“Anonymous tip,” Tal said.

“See, I shekking knew it. That was Hallwell. He was supposed to be at that meeting. I should have known something was wrong when he didn't show up. He got you to pick up every one of my trusted people, and now he's back in Whitemoon running
my
business.”

“How do you know he's in Whitemoon?”

He looked at her as if she had just admitted to flunking out of fifth-level school. “I may be underground, but I still know what's going on. That fantenshekken betrayed me. If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't have been caught, and even if we had been caught, we wouldn't have ended up here. I want him in the Pit and me out of it.”

His voice had gotten much louder at the end, and he visibly calmed himself before continuing in a lower tone. “Hallwell had powerful friends. He liked to drink his profits, and when he drank, he liked to brag, and when he bragged, he always said the same thing. He said it wasn't what you knew, but who you knew, and he knew the top people. He said even Mor bowed down to his friends, because they were the ones who made the rules and enforced them.”

“Meaning they're on the Council,” Tal said.

He nodded. “That's what I think. That's why I didn't want to talk to anyone but you. If they enforce the rules, that means they're warrior caste. The only people I can talk to here are warrior caste. They'd pass my information up the ranks until it reached one of Hallwell's friends, at which point the information would vanish, along with me. So for me, the only safe warrior is you. Unless you're one of Hallwell's friends, in which case I'm shekked.”

While Micah didn't have Tal's ability to empathically determine the man's honesty, he didn't think it was necessary. Donvall was driven by rage and fixated on his revenge.

“Is there anything else I should know?” Tal asked.

“Just that you might want to take a second look at what your task force has been doing.” He gave her an unpleasant smile. “Hallwell may have powerful friends, but they didn't set him up in my business just so he could take all the profits. They're investors. I'd be curious to know what else they're investing in.”

“So would I. Anything else?”

“No. If I knew any more names, I'd give them to you. I want these people taken down.”

She nodded. “Well, this might be the only occasion when you and honorable warriors are on the same side. I'll do my best to take them down, Donvall. You'll know I succeeded when you get your transfer.”

“Then I wish you every good fortune,” he said.

CHAPTER 70
Small victories

 

Tal stalked through the corridors
with Micah, Gehrain, and Colonel Sedron keeping a respectful distance. She had held her reaction in check until she was out of the saferoom and was now so furious that she could hardly see straight. That someone would pervert the Anti-Corruption Task Force into a vehicle for more efficient law breaking was a betrayal she took personally. The task force was supposed to prevent this kind of dokshin, not promote it! This was a slap in the face not only to her and every honorable warrior and merchant working on that task force, but also to the four Redmoon warriors whose deaths had inspired its creation. Someone was pissing on their memories.

They arrived at the cells where they had left the boys and waited for the warder. Tal was too angry to speak and impatient at the thought of dealing with these children any further. She had much bigger game to hunt.

“Why aren't you authorized to unlock the cells?” Gehrain asked Colonel Sedron, filling in the uncomfortable silence.

“Because I'm the director, which makes me the most obvious target for a hostage crisis. But if I can't unlock any cells or the exit doors between levels, then taking me hostage won't get a prisoner anywhere. I can get in alone, but I can't get out.”

“Unless they demand a trade,” Micah said.

“That won't help either. The facility has a no-negotiation policy. I have no value as a hostage, and they know that.”

“What about the warders?”

“They have clearance for only one level. And the lift doors below Level One can only be unlocked by two palms simultaneously.”

The warder came through a door down the hall and quickly joined them, unlocking the cell for Pendar and Silmartin first. The boys stepped out, their moods quiet and subdued. A white-faced Nilo emerged a few pipticks later, walking directly to Tal and looking up at her.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “For everything I've done. This place is horrible. No one should have to live in a cell like that! I promise I'll be better. Just…please take me home.”

Tal stared at him, trying to work past her anger and remember that this was an important moment in its own small way. She had set up their temporary incarceration hoping for just this response. But the best she could manage was a curt nod and a brusque, “That's good enough. We're leaving now.”

The warder accompanied them to the lift doors and palmed the lock on the left while Colonel Sedron palmed the right. They trooped inside and crowded together far too closely for Tal's liking. All she wanted was to get back in the transport and away from everyone else. Fortunately, the boys were subdued as the group returned to the main administrative room, had their wristbands removed, and retraced their steps to the surface.

Their silence ended when the final set of doors opened. As soon as Nilo saw the sky, he whooped and scrambled up the steps, followed closely by Pendar and Silmartin. All three of them bounced off the final step as if they had just been reprieved from a lifetime sentence. Tal and the others climbed the stairs more sedately, but as the first cool breeze brushed Tal's face, carrying the peppery scent of desert tinbrush, she understood how the boys felt. Nothing made one appreciate sunlight and fresh air quite like being without.

Colonel Sedron stopped near the transport and gave Tal a salute. “It has been an honor to have you at our facility. If there's anything else I can do, please notify me.”

“I will, thank you. And I appreciate the time you've taken today, Colonel. Rest assured it was worthwhile.”

When she boarded the transport, Thornlan was waiting. The pilot saw her mood in an instant and said, “If you'd like to have a seat in your private cabin, I'll help harness the boys.”

Gratefully, Tal retreated to her much-needed solitude. A few ticks later Thornlan notified her by com that they were ready for liftoff, and she watched the dry scrubland of Koneza fall away beneath them.

For half the flight home she stared out the window, seeing very little as her brain churned. Telmurine Hallwell and Falton Mor would be easy to pick up, and she would take great pleasure in breaking the Whitemoon smuggling ring a second and hopefully final time. But they weren't the big game, and she was driving herself insane trying to guess who was. Which warrior on the Council was betraying every ideal of the Truth and the Path? Was it only one, or were there more? Did Prime Warrior Shantu have any clue? She pondered that thought for a while before deciding that he could not. For all his flaws, and he had quite a few, Shantu would never condone or tolerate such a violation of everything their caste stood for. He was a proud warrior, and whoever was doing this had far more greed than pride. But by the same token, she couldn't bring him in on her investigation. Shantu didn't have the finesse required to do this quietly; he would be more likely to go on a rampage after getting impatient with the pace of their progress. No, she needed someone who understood the value of restraint and dealmaking, someone willing to let the small prey lead her to the big predators. And that would be Colonel Razine. As head of the Alsean Investigative Force, she had the necessary resources at her fingertips, the ability to make discreet inquiries, and Tal's trust. She had known Razine since they were in the same training unit.

After going around in mental circles one too many times, she finally stood up for a good stretch and decided she could be social again.

Micah and Gehrain looked up when she walked into the main cabin, their expressions cautious.

She gave them a quick smile as she took her former seat across from Pendar. “Had a few things to think about.”

Micah nodded. “We've been doing some thinking here as well. The boys have something to tell you.”

“Do they?” Tal looked from one to the other, waiting for a spokesperson.

Surprisingly, it was Nilo who spoke up. “Colonel Micah was telling us what you could have done instead of bringing us to the Pit.”

Tal raised her eyebrows at Micah. There was no telling what sort of tales he had spun; the boys were probably glad they'd escaped summary execution.

“You were much nicer to us than you had to be,” Nilo continued. “And we realized that everyone in Granelle is just saying what they
think
about you, but we're the ones who actually
know
you. So we're going to tell everyone the truth. Maybe that will make people stop telling lies about you.”

Tal hid a smile, enjoying the irony. Of course Nilo would find a way to transform his fear into self-importance because he knew the Lancer and almost no one else in Granelle did.

“And what is the truth?” she asked.

“That they're wrong, and you're not going to destroy Alsea, and they should trust you,” said Pendar.

“And they shouldn't talk if they don't know what they're talking about,” Silmartin added.

Nilo and Pendar nodded in agreement, and this time Tal didn't fight her smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate your support, and I think it might really help.”

They were full of pride and a sense of purpose, and it occurred to her that she shouldn't discount these small victories. The governance of Alsea did not take the form of one momentous event or decision after another. Changing the minds of three young boys might well turn out to be as important as anything else she had ever done—who could know?

She settled into her seat and looked out the window. They were just beginning to cross the mountains, and a deep sense of contentment warmed her as the familiar scenery unfolded beneath them. Within a few ticks they were in the high mountains, where long habit had her scanning the steep slopes from one side to the other. She didn't expect to see anything—certainly not this soon or this easily—but there they were, a large herd climbing up a nearly sheer wall. Perhaps it was a sign.

Or perhaps it was simply another small victory.

“Tell me,” she said, still looking out the window, “have any of you ever seen a winden?”