Into the Fire Page 3

  He spent a quarter hour drafting a report to the Port Major police about the fugitives, careful to couch it in terms that would both flatter the police and deflect attention from the delay in informing them. Then he settled down to the more pleasant task of blackening Ky Vatta’s reputation and questioning her right to be at large on Slotter Key. When he finally went to bed in the Commandant’s ornate bed, he was more satisfied with what he had accomplished than worried the fugitives would ever make contact with Ky Vatta.

  DAY 2

  The next morning, Ky woke from a nightmare with Rafe holding her. She relaxed slowly, concentrating on one muscle after another. “Did I make a lot of noise?”

  “No. It doesn’t take noise for me to know when you’re in a bad place. Teeth grinding and jerky movements are enough. I’ve done that, you remember.”

  “Yes.” She took a long breath, another. “We are two weird people, aren’t we?”

  “I prefer to think of us as two experienced adventurers, and all experienced adventurers have memories that give them bad dreams at times.”

  Ky laughed unexpectedly. “What time is it?”

  “A little past dawn. Still cloudy. I think it’s safe to unlock the house long enough to retrieve supplies from the kitchen.”

  “Is Stella up?”

  “If she is, she’s very quiet. Probably doesn’t want to rouse the wildcat.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Ky, love, you have no idea what you’re like when you go full killer. In retrospect, that’s what Stella’s going to remember.”

  “I wouldn’t—”

  “But you could. And she doesn’t know the level of control you have. Did you ever physically attack her?”

  “She pulled my hair when I was four and she was seven. I punched her back, but not hard enough to leave a mark. We both got in trouble; I heard about it for years. I threw a bracelet at her once when we were teenagers. No—actually I threw it on the floor.”

  “Well, that’s a gracious difference.” Rafe’s mouth twitched; Ky knew he was trying not to grin.

  Ky said nothing, heading for the shower.

  Stella seemed perfectly calm at breakfast; she led their guests into a discussion of clothes they might need. They were deep in that discussion when the doorbell rang. Stella switched on the remote, waving everyone to silence. The screen showed uniformed men in riot gear standing in front of the house, with a van parked in the street.

  “This is Stella Vatta,” Stella said. “What is the problem?”

  “Why is the house secured like that?” The speaker, in a helmet with its visor down, all in black, had the body language of an angry man.

  “Please identify yourself,” Stella said.

  “Open this door!”

  “Please identify yourself,” Stella said again. “Name and organization; verification will be obtained to determine the legality of your demand.”

  “You—! All right, though your attitude will do you no good.” The visor flipped up; the man looked into the ID scan by the front door. “Captain Hansed Bontier, Spaceforce Security, 429–772–5187–04. I can have my boss call you—”

  “Verification ongoing,” Stella said and closed the com. To Ky, she said, “Same man I talked to through the door last night. He wasn’t that rude then. Wonder what twisted his tail. Take them into the office; there’s a triple-shielded closet. Use the old code. That should be safe enough if nobody talks. The word anywhere twice is the key.”

  Ky got up; the visitors were already standing.

  “And use the toilet now, not later. I’ll be running my shower; it’ll cover the noise. Quickly.”

  Ky took them all into Stella’s home office and shut the door, setting the latch to maximum. “Toilet’s that way,” she said, pointing. Barash went first, and while the others waited, Ky tapped the code for the security closet and opened the door. They came back into the office, silent and looking scared. “We can talk softly, one at a time for now,” she said. “I’m going to use the screen with the volume down.”

  In front of the house, several black-clad men gathered, one gesturing and the others listening. Visors were up; Ky grabbed and stored images of every face she could. “Recognize anyone?” she asked Inyatta.

  “No, sir,” Inyatta said. “Wait—that one.” She pointed at the man who had identified himself as Captain Bontier.

  “If they’re trying to keep this secret, they’ll control the number of people who see you,” Ky said. “They should use the same security personnel at every stage—but if you’ve been drugged, then you won’t know their faces.”

  Ky tapped the control for a view of the front door from inside, then backed it through the house—and there was Stella coming down the passage. Barefoot, a thick house robe belted around her, obviously wet hair wrapped in a towel turban, she went down the stairs briskly and strode to the front door. There she spoke into the door com. “I have contacted the Rector of Defense; she says you must tell me what it is you want.”

  Ky switched back to the outside view, then arranged both on the screen.

  “I want you to open this door. There are dangerous fugitives in this neighborhood; we are searching every house. You were told last night—and then you locked the house down so we could not search—”

  “So that no intruders could get in,” Stella corrected. “Yes, you said that last night, and I informed you that we had been in the house and there were no fugitives. As I said, the house was broken into recently; a guard was stationed in it when we were gone.”

  “Then open the damned door and quit stalling.”

  “I wasn’t stalling; I was in the shower.” Stella opened the door. Ky grinned at the captain’s expression; Stella needed no makeup to have that effect. “We had a long day yesterday and I overslept. I am not in the habit of lying, and neither are my guests.”

  “You have guests? The fugitives—”

  “The guests are my cousin and her fiancé. As I said last night. I don’t believe you can have forgotten.” Stella stepped back and waved dramatically. “Come on in, since you are determined to insult my family and my personal honesty. Any breakage or pilfering will be documented by the house system. I am going upstairs to dress for work, and I trust you will not try to sneak into my private quarters and watch while I do so.”

  The man’s face was red, but he led his squad in. Stella went to the stairs and started up; half the squad turned their heads to watch her, including the captain. When she reached the head of the stairs, Stella called, “Ky, I let them in the house. Are you anywhere up here?”

  Ky looked at her three. “Through that door, now. I have to stay out here and be seen; they know I’m here. Once you’re in, I’ll close it. You’ll be safe. It may take several hours, but as long as you don’t make noise, you’ll be fine.”

  They looked shaken but she nodded, and they went in. “There’s light and air circulation,” Ky added as she pulled the inner door closed. Then she pushed the outer door, faced with a bookcase, back into place, and pulled the office door partway open. She sat down in the green leather chair behind the desk, raising it to suit her height, picked up the top two folders on the desk, and opened both, side by side.

  Stella, coming along the passage, looked in. “There you are,” she said brightly. “Did you find those reports?”

  “I found”—Ky read the title off the folder—“last year’s P&L, but I’m confused by the coding on page seventeen.”

  “I’ll explain later; I’ve got to get dressed before the search party comes up here. You haven’t seen any strangers, have you?”

  “Of course not. Are they still looking for the same ones as last night?”

  “Apparently. Be back in a few.” Stella left. Ky checked the house security. Two searchers in the living room, with sniffers. Two in the dining room. Four on the stairs now, including the captain at the top, looking both ways and carrying an audio booster. He had probably heard Stella talking to her. Good. She turned back to the folders, fr
owning and looking from one to the other.

  She was reaching for a third when a voice in the doorway said, “Stop! Drop that! Hands up!”

  She looked up to see the captain glaring at her, weapon in hand. “Oh, good grief,” Ky said, still holding the folder. “Who are you?”

  “Drop that and put your hands on your head.”

  “I am in the middle of a complicated analysis,” Ky said. She opened the folder and laid it, open, above the two already open. “And besides, you’re supposed to identify yourself, aren’t you? Are you police? You don’t look like police. If you’re not police, then I’m not obliged to obey you.”

  “You—all right. I’m with Slotter Key Spaceforce Security.”

  “And I’m not in Slotter Key’s military,” Ky said. “You have no jurisdiction here. So kindly put away that weapon and explain yourself.”

  He slammed the pistol into his holster, still glaring. “We are seeking three Slotter Key Spaceforce personnel, dangerous fugitives.”

  “Not here,” Ky said, looking down and turning over a page in one of the open folders.

  “Our sniffers detected female persons in the back garden here.”

  “That would be my cousin and myself. We went outside when it started raining because the children had left some toys out.”

  “What children?”

  Ky heaved an obvious sigh and looked up. “About seven years ago my cousin Jo was killed; she had two children. My aunt Helen, who owns this house, adopted them. After the break-in several days ago, she took the children to Corleigh, another family property, because she didn’t feel safe in this house with the kitchen door so damaged. My fiancé and I were staying on Corleigh; she asked us to come here and keep an eye on the house until repairs were done. Not that any of that has anything to do with the fugitives you’re after, or is any of your business. You say they’re women?”

  He flushed. “I didn’t say that—”

  “But you seemed to find sniffer traces of females in the yard suspicious. That suggests that you’re after women.”

  “I didn’t—damn it, I ask the questions!”

  From behind him, Stella said. “No, Captain, you do not. You have demanded entrance to a civilian home in your search for military personnel, after being assured last night that no such were here.”

  “The house was shielded—”

  “As I told you, and as the Port Major police are aware, that is because we had a break-in and chose to engage the full security capability. Which is neither illegal nor suspicious. If you had bothered to check with them, you’d know that—”

  He turned to face Stella. Stella, Ky could see, had changed into a lavender suit, and looked every centimeter the wealthy, elegant, powerful woman she was.

  “My men have found two bedrooms occupied in that other wing, both with traces of male and female occupation!”

  Ky laughed. “You’re going to question a couple, both over legal age, on where they choose to sleep or lounge or…whatever…in a house this size? Once again: you do not have jurisdiction here.”

  He turned his head to glance at her. “Is that man your fiancé?”

  “Yes, he is. And we have been in multiple bedrooms, because we chose to. Why not? Some beds are too hard, some beds are too soft—”

  He stared at her. “You—!”

  “It’s none of your business what we do, or don’t do, anywhere—and certainly not in this house.”

  “You’ve had time to look under all the beds,” Stella added. He swung around to look at Stella again. “I must get to the office; you will withdraw your team and leave my cousin and her fiancé in peace.”

  “We need to scan this house.”

  “No, you need to find your fugitives and not waste my time and annoy my family.” When he didn’t move, she looked past him to Ky. “Call Grace. I want this settled before I leave. I have appointments.”

  Ky didn’t bother with the desk phone; she used her skullphone, direct to Grace’s private number.

  “Ky—what’s wrong?”

  “A man who says he’s with Slotter Key military has insisted on searching Helen’s house for some fugitives. We told him last night there were none here; he came back this morning and is acting like we’re guilty for turning on the security overnight. Stella wants him out before she goes to headquarters and he won’t leave.”

  “Name?” Grace said. Ky told her. “Do you have a house phone where you are?”

  “Yes, I’m in Stavros’s home office; there’s a secure line.”

  “Call me on that, put it on speaker; I’ll talk to him.”

  Ky leaned back in the chair as soon as Grace’s voice came over the speaker. The captain jerked around at the sound of his name. “Who?”

  “This is Rector Vatta. You will personally report to my office at once and explain yourself; I expect you within the next ten minutes.”

  “But I—but Rector, that’s not—”

  “Ten minutes. That’s not a suggestion, Captain; that’s an order. Do I have to send a team to bring you in?”

  “N-no, Rector. I’ll—”

  “Hurry,” Grace finished for him. “Nine minutes forty seconds.”

  He looked two shades paler, and with a muttered “Sorry” turned away; Ky could hear the quick sound of his boots hurrying to the stairs. His team emerged from the various rooms they were searching, and within two minutes they were all outside, jogging down the front walk to their vans.

  Stella raised her brows. “It never ceases to amaze me how the sound of Aunt Grace in a snit gets people moving.”

  “Including you!” came from the speaker.

  Stella jumped. “You’re still online!”

  “Ky didn’t close the connection. How secure is this line?”

  “Secure as we can make it,” Stella said.

  “Who is that man looking for?”

  “The people who were with me in Miksland,” Ky said. “Spaceforce personnel. Did you know they’d been drugged, shaved bare, and thrown in prison?”

  “What?” Grace’s tone mixed surprise and anger; Ky’s own anger retreated a little.

  “Yes. Including implant surgery on a Miznarii woman without her consent, while she was unconscious—which is a crime—and tampering with others’ implants, and not allowing them contact with their families—or any outside contact at all.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You didn’t know? You didn’t think to find out what happened to personnel you, as Rector, were responsible for?”

  “I’m leaving for the office,” Stella said. “You two can waste time fighting if you want to, but—”

  “Go!” Ky and Grace spoke at the same moment. Stella retreated. Ky wished she hadn’t; she had intended to apologize this morning, but things happened too fast.

  “Ky, I did not know,” Grace said. “I was told they were evacuated from Miksland to Pingats, given a medical evaluation there that suggested they might need quarantine for fourteen days because of something in the tunnels. Then they were to be sent home for thirty days’ home leave with their families. That’s where I thought they were.”

  “That didn’t happen,” Ky said.

  “To all of them? Are you sure? And how do you know?”

  “A reliable source,” Ky said. She’d expected Grace to realize she must have the fugitives there, but she wasn’t going to say so, no matter how secure the line was supposed to be. “I suggest you start calling before that man arrives at your door. Contact the families if you don’t believe me. Oh, and they overheard someone say I was in the hospital and expected to die of something caught down there.”

  “But you were checked out—you’re fine.”

  “Yes. Checked out by Helen’s own physician, not Spaceforce.”

  “I’ll call you within two hours,” Grace said, and cut off the connection.

  Ky sat back. The security panel on the desk informed her that the house was locked down, all entrances secure, no indication of attempts to breach, and
no new sensors in place. Her concern that the team might have placed bugs faded, but she pulled out the portable scanner and checked that room carefully. Nothing.

  When she opened the secure closet, she found the three women huddled in one corner.

  “We didn’t know who would come—”

  “They’ve left. The house is fully secure again. They didn’t discover anything and the captain should be just about arriving at the Rector’s office to have a very uncomfortable hour or so with my aunt Grace. She didn’t know anything about your situation.”

  “So we can—come out?”

  “Yes. Might be best to stay upstairs in case someone else shows up.”

  “Can we call our families?” Kamat asked.

  “No,” Ky said. “Whoever’s responsible is undoubtedly watching your families, expecting you to make contact. It might risk them, and all you survivors, to call them now. But we do need their names and addresses, to work out some way of letting them know without alerting the other side. The Rector’s going to call them, probably today, but that can be presented as just ordinary courtesy. I think she should’ve done that before.” Before more questions could be asked, Ky went on. “Do you have any objection to a short-term DNA adjustment? It’ll confuse scans, if you run across a roadblock or something.”

  Kamat raised her hand. “I know I’m already contaminated with an implant, but I really don’t want any change in DNA. It’s against my religion.”

  Ky nodded. “Of course. And we’ll find a way to get that implant out, too.”

  “But the—the connectors—would still be in my brain—”

  “You said you weren’t getting anything from it; it may be they just put in something to make you think it was an implant. And even if it is, the connector interface won’t operate without the implant itself.”

  Kamat blinked back tears. “I’m afraid my family will think I’m damaged. They’ll see the scar; they’ll ask why I cooperated.”