Trouble Magnet (25 page)

So instead of pointing out that he could tell she was after power and control and not just the pleasure of his company, he stepped away from her.

“I’m sorry, Zezula. I’m bespoke for, myself.”

She smiled and nodded as if she understood, but if emotions were combustible, she would now be a raging spire of flame. No one takes kindly to rejection, he knew, no matter how civilly framed.

“Her name’s Clarity,” he added in hopes of dampening the furious blaze within her. To change the subject, he raised an arm and pointed. “The sun’s almost down.”

“Tshas,”
she muttered. Her tone was neutral but her carefully concealed emotions indicated she hoped that the solar furnace in question would land on his head. “A special moment to share.” While projecting nothing but loathing for him, she brushed aside his demurral and edged toward him with an eye toward re-establishing their previous proximity.

If only she knew, he thought distastefully as he worked to disentangle himself from her grasping hands, how clearly he saw the truth of her feelings even as she sought to ply him with touches and words. Tomorrow for certain, he told himself, he would leave this place. He had done more for these youngsters, some of whom were clearly more worth helping than others, than he had ever intended to do. As was often the case with those he encountered on other worlds.

Without a doubt his determined resistance to her advances, or for that matter resistance from any member of the opposite sex, was something she was not used to. “Am I so unpleasant to look upon?” she queried him as they struggled gently. “This woman you speak of isn’t here now. I am. Even the United Church makes allowances for distance.”

He shoved one of her arms down. Another came up, reaching for him with persistence. “We’re not as far apart as you think.”

“Oh no?” Her eyes, which were as striking as the rest of her, flashed at him. “I bet I can make you forget her. Even if she’s on the other side of Visaria. Even if she’s on another world, far away and remote.” Zezula’s moist lips were parted, inviting, her arms extended and open to him. She wanted to possess him, and him to possess her.

But as only he could sense, not in equal degree.

CHAPTER

15

Lal, Dir, and Joh had arranged themselves in a perfect crescent in front of Shaeb’s desk. They did not particularly like the man whom they worked for, but they tolerated him. The feeling, they were certain, was mutual. In contrast with their attire, which was loose fitting and baggy, their expressions were taut, and not from stress. In fact, as they stood waiting on the Underhouse master, their facial muscles hardly seemed to move at all. Reaching up, Lal carefully adjusted the lens that covered one eye.

Shaeb looked away from the projection he had been studying. Though they were technically in his employ, he knew it was better for business not to keep these three waiting. That suited him fine. He did not like to waste time on pleasantries.

“We are going hunting.” A rare smile creased his narrow visage. “That should appeal to you, I would think.”

Dir replied for the three of them. “Normally it would, but we have work to do.”

Shaeb was not dissuaded. “This is part of your work.” He turned to Joh. “You remember the youths who gassed you and your fellow sentinels at the warehouse?”

Joh gestured broadly. Rather too broadly, but the only one present to witness the peculiar movement was Shaeb, who was already familiar with it.

“I never forget a professional embarrassss—a professional embarrassment.”

Resting his elbows on the desk, Shaeb steepled his fingers in front of him. “Would you like not only to rectify it, but to be able to do so in a pleasing manner?”

The operative called Joh looked at his colleagues, then back toward the desk. “Speaking for myself, I would savor the opportunity.”

Lal spoke for the first time. “Our activities are circumscribed by care and necessity. We should not get involved in a way that puts our other work here at risk.”

“I am aware of your concerns and your individual interests.” Shaeb leaned forward slightly. “The location where the hunting expedition is to take place lies well outside the city limits. The risk of encountering problematic bystanders is minimized.” He was mildly amused. “At the conclusion of the hunt, you might even have the opportunity to taste the fruits of your labors.”

Lal sounded uncertain. “We do not like fruit.”

Joh made a strange sound, one that might have caused the unprepared to jump. “It is an expression.” His gaze was focused on the placid figure of Shaeb. “I would be allowed to take pleasure in the flavor of those who embarassss—who humiliated me?”

The voice of the Underhouse master was accommodating. “Though such a resolution is hardly to my personal taste, I have no objection to you indulging your own. Should circumstances reach that point, my own objectives will obviously have been achieved.”

The three operatives exchanged looks, leaving it to Dir to respond. “You are unusually nonjudgmental, Piegal Shaeb.”

A thinner twitch of a smile this time. “I am interested in results. I myself have already been embarrassed three times by these youthful caronis. A fourth embarrassment must not be allowed to eventuate. They have somehow enticed an offworld professional into aiding them.”

“Ah,” murmured Lal. “That makes it interesting.”

“He is young, but manifestly competent.” Shaeb brooded for a moment. “He is known to another contact of mine, but that person has been reluctant to lend the full weight of his knowledge to the forthcoming undertaking. That is a conundrum that must also be resolved.” He looked up. “Following the successful resolution of this matter, the appropriate bonuses will be distributed, of course.”

“Of course,” echoed Dir reflectively. “A chance to taste—”

“A chance to resolve humiliation,” Joh interrupted his colleague. He exchanged looks with the ones called Lal and Dir. “We will abide.” Reaching up, he touched a hand to his cheek. “But to function at our most effective under such challenging circumstances, we will have to do something about
these
.”

“And these,” added Lal, rubbing his left arm with his right hand.

Shaeb nodded understandingly. “Retribution is often most competently carried out at night. That is when the business will be done. Therefore, feel free to be thee. There will be none to see you except myself and an additional number of those in my employ who are already aware of your unique situation.”

Dir sounded surprised. “You are coming also?”

Letting his chair glide back from the desk, Shaeb stood. “Three times offended, I said. The warehouse boost, the freeing of the scrims, and a failed recovery attempt on a city street. Three times fiasco tells me one thing for certain.”

“What is that?” Joh asked curiously.

Shaeb was already heading around the desk, leading the way toward the exit. “If you want someone killed right, you’ve got to do the killing yourself.”

Strange how when one is sleeping it is sometimes possible to be awakened merely by a presence. Rarely spending more than half a day at the municipal center, Theodakris had come to look forward to his afternoon nap. It was a cheap pleasure he happily indulged in. As a younger man, he would never have thought of wasting an hour or two of daylight on something as inconsequential as additional rest.

That’s what comes of getting old, he thought sleepily as he slowly returned to consciousness. He would have philosophized more if the first thing he had seen upon opening his eyes had not been the business end of a weapon. Half dressed and instantly wide awake, he sat up quickly on the bed.

The only member of the intrusion he recognized was Piegal Shaeb. He did not know the three slightly hunched-forward figures who stood behind the Underhouse master. They were more flagrantly armed. Nor, despite his long years of work with the police section, was he familiar with the specific type of sidearm the Underhouse master was presently pointing at him.

“Get dressed.” Shaeb was his usual talkative self.

Dividing his attention between the intruders and their weapons, the senior analyst rose to comply. He moved slowly and deliberately, not wishing to startle any of the trespassers. Before ordering a drawer or closet to open, he was careful to announce beforehand exactly what it was he was going to remove from behind each handle or door. There
were
defensive devices scattered throughout his home, but their services could not be invoked swiftly enough to kill more than one or two of the invaders before he himself was shot. Disliking those odds, he wisely chose not to trigger any of them.

Besides, this was Shaeb. A man he knew well. Malandere’s foremost syndicate master was nothing if not reasonable. Whatever had so obviously unsettled him could doubtless be resolved with logic and conversation. The important thing, he reminded himself as he continued to dress, was to ensure that everyone remained calm. He would find out what this was all about soon enough, and then he could deal with it.

“You could have announced yourself.” His tone was mildly accusing. “There’s no need for this.” With a gesture, he indicated his visitor’s weapon. “What is that, some kind of sonic projector? I’ve never seen one like it.”

“You be right if you guessed it is of alien manufacture,” declared Dir from his position near the bedroom doorway. “The materials of which it is made are not detectible by conventional security sensors.”

W
hich was why no alarms had been tripped when his visitors had entered first the building and then his dwelling, Theodakris reflected. Something very bad must have happened to have so seriously upset his occasional business associate.

He let his shirt seal itself around him as he confronted that individual. “I continue to fail to see the need for this. Are there any circumstances under which I have not made myself available to you, Piegal?”

“There is always a first time, Shyvil.” Stepping aside, Shaeb gestured in the direction of the doorway. With a shrug, Theodakris walked. The Underhouse master followed. “I was convinced that if I simply announced my intent, you would balk at accompanying my subordinates and me.”

“To what end?”

“Some would say revenge,” Shaeb murmured as they entered the outer living area. “I find
resolution
to be a more decorous and civilized description of this evening’s proposed undertaking. It involves this disagreeable business of the pod of uncouth youths who stole from me, and whose end I have as yet been unable to bring to a proper resolution.”

Theodakris halted abruptly. “The offworlder we discussed is still with them?”

“I do not know that,” Shaeb replied honestly. “But until I know otherwise for certain, I have to assume it.” He smiled assuredly. “Following an abortive attempt at recapture, the failure of which has already resulted in the appropriate disciplining of the misbegotten charoni involved, they and the offworlder fled his lodgings in Center District, so the rogue may indeed still be with them. Proper and, if I may say, improper use of government resources makes it a simple matter to trace the friends, acquaintances, and relatives of those individuals one wishes to locate. Process of elimination is swift and efficient. Likely hiding places are quickly checked, those not in use rapidly removed from consideration.

“I am pleased to say that the fugitives have been tracked to a location not far outside the conurb.” He indicated his singular trio of companions. “This time I am taking no chances. Every possible resource will be brought to bear so that there is no chance of another failure. With respect to which, this time no attempt will be made to take the offenders alive. This nonsense has gone on long enough.” His tone was flat and even as ever. “In the interests of expediency, I will forgo my usual preference for extending the sentences of the blameworthy. They will simply be executed on site.”

Theodakris stared back at him. “You know what will happen if I’m seen in your company.”

“No one will see you in my private transport. The cleansing itself will be carried out well after dark. None will be left alive to identify you or anyone else.” He gestured anew. “The door has not moved, and neither have you. If there is something you will need for more than a two-day, get it quickly.”

The senior analyst did not stir. “I told you how I feel about this offworlder. If he’s still with your batch of fled scrawn, I’m not coming along.”

“If I knew for certain he was not with them, I would not have any need of your presence,” Shaeb replied sharply. “My previous visit notwithstanding, I still know all too little of this offworlder. Self-confessedly, you know more than you have told me.”

Despite the guns, Theodakris remained unyielding. “Not enough to be of any use to you in dealing with him.”

“Any knowledge is more than no knowledge.” Shaeb raised the weapon slightly. “Who knows—so to speak. You might remember something useful at a critical moment. Or better yet, beforehand.” Letting out a sigh, he lowered himself to ask for the other man’s help while trying not to give the appearance of pleading.

“I am not sure if your apparent mind-slippage is due to age, disease, or some other cause. What I do know is that right now I have no time to cultivate a working relationship with someone else in your department. Furthermore, no one else possesses your experience and breadth of knowledge. Tomorrow might be otherwise, but you know of my inclination to impatience. So I must insist that you come with us, please.”