TW01 The Ivanhoe Gambit NEW (21 page)

The turnkey entered the cell and, after a moment, he could be heard fumbling with the prisoner's manacles. Then there were the sounds of a scuffle and a blow falling and Hooker hurtled through the door. The sheriff felled him with one blow. Hooker collapsed to the floor, moaning. The sheriff stuck his head into the cell.

"You alive, you wretch?"

"Yes, thank you, milord."

The sheriff slammed the door on the cell, leaving the turnkey inside. He bent down and lifted Hooker bodily, throwing him over his shoulder. Together with Irving, he walked to the end of the hall, carrying Hooker. They descended another flight of steps to the torture chamber.

Once there, the sheriff threw Hooker up against a wall, holding the semi-conscious man with one hand on his chest while with the other he fastened on the manacles.

"Bring him around," said Irving.

Sir Guy picked up a bucket containing viscous, stagnant water and dashed it into Hooker's face.

Then he grabbed the corporal by the hair and shook him.

"He's coming to his senses, Sire."

"Leave us."

"Sire?"

"Await me in the upper level," Irving said. "I would question this man myself."

"As you wish, Sire."

The sheriff left. Irving pulled a crude wooden stool over with his booted foot and sat down, waiting for Hooker to fully come to. When Hooker opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Irving sitting on the stool a few feet away from him, smiling slightly.

"Oh, Christ," said Hooker.

"Hardly," Irving said, "but I do see that you know me, don't you?"

Hooker did not reply.

"Let us not waste time," said Irving. "I don't know who you are, but I do know
what
you are and that's more to the point. You are a member of a temporal adjustment team sent back to stop me. There's no use denying it, my equipment has registered your implant. I also know that there are at least three others; I've picked up their implants, as well. All of you were at the tournament. Unfortunately, I have not yet been able to take the time to pinpoint the location of the others, but I know they're somewhere in Sherwood."

"If you can locate them, what do you want from me?" said Hooker.

"Only a few simple answers to a few simple questions," Irving said.

"The name is Hooker, J.D., Corporal, serial number—"

Irving chuckled. "Look around you, Hooker. This is a medieval torture chamber. The equipment here is admittedly primitive, but nevertheless, quite effective. There really isn't any need to resort to such unpleasant means of persuasion, is there? You really can't win. I could have taken all of you earlier had I wished to, but I had other things to attend to. You had not yet become an inconvenience. You see, I can take you men out almost anytime I wish to."

"Then why don't you?"

"Expedience, Mr. Hooker. Your superior and I have been engaged in an elaborate game. He's a formidable player, but each time around, I learn the rules a little better. So does he, I expect. I daresay it's a learning experience for both of us. Well, be that as it may, one of the things I've learned is that the moment it becomes necessary for me to sanction the adjustment team, my rival immediately begins the game all over. Just once, I'd like to play it through to the end. Would you care for a cigarette?"

He removed a pack from a pouch on his belt and offered one to Hooker. ,

"Quite safe, I assure you. There's nothing in this more elaborate than tobacco. I do want you alive for now and given the condition you're in, I wouldn't chance dosing you with anything. Chances are you've been made drug resistant, anyway."

Hooker opened his mouth and Irving placed the cigarette between his lips, then lighted it.

"Sometimes, the old-fashioned methods really are the best," said Irving. He walked over to an iron maiden and slowly forced it closed. It made a hideous scraping noise. "You know, there was a time when agents were equipped with all sorts of fascinating devices to enable them to avoid breaking under interrogation, cyanide capsules in the teeth and so on. Terrible waste of manpower. It's encouraging to know that we've progressed beyond such things."

Hooker watched him silently, cigarette between clenched teeth.

"The assumption is that anyone can break, Mr. Hooker. It really doesn't matter. After all, there's no point to wasting manpower needlessly, isn't that so?"

"Get to the point," said Hooker.

"Certainly. The point is, I've had my fill of all this interference. It grows tiresome. This is like some strange game of chess, wherein the black king is beset by pawns. The pawns are very vulnerable, this is taken' for granted, and they're really not all that important. The king can continue to take pawns almost at will, but there is always the chance that he will maneuver himself into a corner and a rather undignified checkmate. So the white king is prepared to sacrifice his pawns left and right, banking on those odds. All the black king can hope for is a stalemate, wherein no more pawns arrive. Only, in this game, the black king wins with a stalemate.

"You see, Mr. Hooker, in this strange game so long as there are pawns upon the board, my chances for a stalemate are increased. The rules are a bit peculiar. The white king is allowed an almost inexhaustible amount of pawns. They serve me better by remaining in the game. Unless you present a threat to me, you're quite safe. Really. I'd be a fool to kill any of you unless it was absolutely unavoidable.

I just want you to make that easier for me, helping you to stay in the game, that is. Cooperate with me and you can sit the rest of the game out in comfort. You will be well provided for and you'll be out of it.

Look at yourself. Broken bones, lacerations, you're on the edge of a total nervous collapse . . . and
why?
There's no reason for it. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know and that will be the end of it. I'll see to it that you're treated for your injuries and I'll see to it that you'll be comfortable. All you have to do is identify the other members of your team for me."

"Is that all?"

Irving took the butt out of Hooker's mouth before it burned his lips.

"Well, there is one other thing. You see, I'm in a bit of a bind here. I have certain things I must accomplish and the other referee is determined to make matters very complicated for me. It is in both our interests, as I'm sure you'll understand, to keep the disruptions of the timestream to a minimum. So far, we've been able to do that, but it has not been easy. In order for you to appreciate my situation, you must understand the mechanics of the game. It involves a series of limited disruptions. Each one invites an increased possibility of creating a paradox.

"Each time, we progress a little farther, but I have yet to succeed in taking the throne. Once I've accomplished that, I will be in a stronger position, but still not invulnerable. I need to know two things from you in order to bring this charade to an end. I can't spend all my time scanning for the other members of your team and, unless I'm right on top of them and scanning, it becomes a little difficult for me to pinpoint them, especially if there's a crowd around. If push comes to shove, there will be fighting. I expect that to happen very soon and I don't want to kill any of your team unintentionally. If I can find out who they are, I can take steps to avoid them. I don't want to strike out at them except in self-defense, only if it's absolutely necessary. I just want you to make that easier for me. Help me to help you stay alive. And the other thing I need to know is where the other referee is."

"Can't you trace him?"

"Neither of us have implants, Mr. Hooker, and both of us have bypassed the tracer functions on our chronoplates. He doesn't know where I am and I don't know where he is. However, you can remedy that situation, can't you?"

"If I do, then he's a dead man," Hooker said.

"Well, yes, I'm afraid that I have no choice but to kill him. It won't be a simple matter, I assume he's well protected, but that should not concern you. He doesn't care what happens to you. You're just a pawn to him. He sent you out to die."

Hooker closed his eyes and remained silent.

"I respect your loyalty, Mr. Hooker, but it's sadly misplaced."

Hooker stared at him. He became aware of the fact that he was in a cold sweat. His knees were starting to shake.

"Do you really think you can resist torture, Mr. Hooker?"

Hooker swallowed hard. "Other men have."

"Only because the interrogators were inept. You're already in a great deal of pain, aren't you? You're afraid. I can see it in your face. So far, this has all been relatively simple, even pleasant. Don't force me to have to hurt you."

"Go to hell, Goldblum."

Irving sighed. "Very well, then. You leave me no choice. I'm really very sorry about this."

He walked over to the racks and picked up a thumbscrew. It would do for a beginning.

"How are you feeling?" Hunter said.

Lucas sat up in bed. "I've been better, but I guess I'm okay."

"Glad to hear that," Hunter said. "Feel up to some traveling?"

Lucas took a deep breath. "Where am I going?"

"We."

"I don't understand."

"We're going, you and I. Or have you given up on Irving?"

"You mean you're going to
help
me?"

"Well, now what the hell did you expect me to do, pilgrim?" Hunter said.

Lucas made a wry face and started to get up. "Frankly, I felt sure that you were going to take advantage of my somewhat weakened condition to clock me out somewhere. I haven't got an implant anymore and you could've sent me just about anywhere with no hope of my ever being found."

Hunter stared at him. "Now why would I want to do a thing like that?"

"I may be digging my own grave," said Lucas, "but I didn't think that you could afford to let me go.

What's to prevent me from reporting you?"

"Nothing," Hunter said. "So?"

"So?"

"Come on, now, they didn't hit you all
that
hard," said Hunter, chuckling. "So what if you reported me? What good would that do? They can't trace me and I've got my own plate. At worst, I'd have to give up this cozy little cabin, but that's no big deal. I could find another place. Hell, I can go anywhere I want to and there ain't an awful lot anyone can do about it, is there?"

Lucas smiled. "You've got a point. I suppose I simply wasn't thinking. But why should you want to get involved?"

"All sorts of reasons," Hunter said. "Things have been pretty quiet around here lately. I wouldn't mind a chance to raise some Cain and take on a rogue referee. Sounds interesting. There's also the fact that, without me, you just don't stand a chance unless you get damned lucky. And not the least of my reasons is the fact that I've got to protect my own interests. This guy Irving is vandalizing my playground. He's fooling around with the timestream and that could put me in a sticky situation if I decided to clock out ahead of where he's been mucking about. I'd have no idea of what I'd be getting into. See, I don't want any changes. I like things just the way they are. That way, I've got my edge."

"So what do you propose?"

"We may as well write off your nysteel gear," said Hunter. "It's not really a major loss now that you've got me and I am not without some equipment of my own. The way it stands right now, we're in pretty good shape, since the opposition is completely in the dark about yours truly. He's got no idea you now have access to a chronoplate and he won't know that I can supply you with special gear. I'm not as conservative as your mission commander in that respect. What's more, he can't trace you anymore without your implant."

Lucas glanced at him sharply. "What are you talking about?"

Hunter sighed. "Oh, boy. They really sent out a bunch of suckers on this one, didn't they?"

"I thought only S&R had tracer gear."

"Yeah, well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you weren't briefed," said Hunter. "You've never been cleared for duty that would have you assigned to a plate, that much is obvious. S&R does have some specialized equipment, but the fact is that any chronoplate can read an implant signal."

"Jesus Christ," said Lucas, sitting back and exhaling heavily. "That means Irving knew about us all along! He knows where we are at any given time!"

"Well, yes and no," said Hunter. "I mean, I can see why they didn't make a point of briefing you.

Besides, chrono-plates are restricted ordnance. The folks who get to play with them don't usually fraternize with the regular troops and they tend to be a bit closemouthed about them, anyway. Orders, you know. It's a safe bet Irving always had a fairly good idea where you were, but he'd be limited unless he had S&R gear, which I don't think he's got. If he did, this whole thing would have been over long ago.

Maybe. There are variables involved."

"I don't get it."

"Okay, put yourself in his place. You've got access to a plate, but you don't have the Search and Retrieve Personnel Tracking System. You might have been able to get your hands on one, but a PTS

probably wouldn't serve your purpose. It's designed for team use, so it's not as portable and it would be a hell of a lot more obvious. You'd want to be in a position where you could transport your equipment fairly inconspicuously. S&R wouldn't have your particular problems.

"So," he said, reaching for the bourbon bottle and taking a long pull, "you've got yourself a standard issue plate without the fancy PTS back-up system. Still gives you a lot to play with. For one thing, it gives you complete mobility. S&R generally works from a field base with scouting units. We'll assume some versatility, with a safety field and a PRU remote, we're still talking about an easily concealable kit. Now the standard gear allows you to scan for implant signals, but you only have a limited degree of accuracy without the PTS. You can't pin an implant down as well. That means Irving knows what I know. I read two implants west of us, smack dab in the middle of Locksley's territory. That will be your Johnson and Delaney. I can find their camp if I have to, but that's about as close as I can get. I could be standing in the middle of a group of ten or twenty people, say, and I wouldn't be able to tell which of them had implants unless I pulled my gear out there and then and took some time about it, which would hardly prove practical for Irving, right? So he can track you, but he can't nail you down absolutely without exposing himself to danger."