"No, but we're not giving up yet," the general growled. "We've got the car they abandoned—belongs to a building company in northwest Denver—and we're checking to see how they got hold of it."
Galway snorted. "In other words, you haven't got a clue as to where they've vanished. And aren't likely to get one anytime soon, either."
"Look, Galway—"
"No, you look, General," Galway cut him off. "I told you not to move against Caine—I told you time and again that the best chance we were likely to get was already planted in the group. But you wouldn't listen—and now you may have blasted the whole thing to hell."
"Have I, now," Quinn shot back. "Then tell me, if you would, why your precious Postern didn't tell us Lathe was here. Huh? Answer me that."
"I don't know. My guess is that Lathe didn't bother to tell them he was going to come along."
"Oh, really?" Quinn's voice dripped sarcasm. "He just forgot to mention it or something?"
"Or something, yes. You might recall I did ask you to confirm that the first set of drop pods really were just decoys—playing off other people's assumptions is one of Lathe's specialties. Well, he also likes playing his games tight to his chest, and he may have decided to keep his presence here secret in case one of Caine's team got captured."
"Except that you also said once that interrogating them wouldn't gain us anything," Quinn growled.
"I wish you'd keep your damn stories straight."
Galway took a deep breath. "Of course Caine's teammates aren't likely to break. That doesn't mean Lathe wouldn't hedge his bets anyway." He waved a hand in disgust. "And believe it or not, that might have worked to our advantage once. If Lathe didn't want Caine to know he was here—and we could have confirmed that was the case as soon as Postern made his next contact—then he would have been reluctant to expose himself to Caine by coming to his aid unless there were some immediate danger. We could have kept a full-scale surveillance on Caine without any risk of having the watchers taken out."
"Until the timing suited them, anyway." Quinn grimaced. "Well, it's all academic now. They're together, they know we're on to them, and it's going to be a race now as to whether they can finish whatever they're up to before we find them again. I don't suppose you've come up with any more ideas on that score?"
"You've already heard them: some kind of assault on the Ryqril's Aegis Mountain base, or an attack on former Prefect Trendor."
"Neither of which makes any sense." Quinn shook his head. "Especially with Lathe and a full blackcollar team now taking an interest in it. Blackcollars aren't likely to waste their time on something that isn't difficult, important, and feasible."
He fell silent, and Galway fought down the urge to once again explain the logic behind an assassination attempt on Trendor. Clearly, Quinn wasn't stupid—he couldn't have risen to such a high position if he was—but he'd just as clearly created a mental block to anything Galway might have to say, whether it had any value or not. I shouldn't have come, the prefect thought bitterly.
Maybe he'd have done a better job of this if he hadn't somehow gotten it into his head that he had to show me up.
Then again, maybe he wouldn't have. Quinn was, after all, successor and possibly protege to Prefect Trendor, and Trendor hadn't struck Galway either as a man of great intellect or finesse.
But then, neither had many of the Security officials he'd met on Argent during Lathe's mission there, something he'd been too busy at the time to notice. Was Galway's ability to follow these tangled threads of logic that far out of the ordinary? Or could it be that Quinn simply had so much firepower and manpower at his disposal that he'd never needed to outthink his opponents?
"The hell with it," Quinn muttered, breaking the silence. "There's no way we're going to figure out Lathe's plan in time, so we're just going to have to take him out of the game."
"You just tried that," Galway reminded him.
"Yeah, well, this time we're going to do it right." The general jabbed a finger in Galway's direction.
"He's still got to get to Kanai for that list of veterans, right? Well, to do that he's got to contact the Shandygaff Bar—and when he does, we'll have him."
"What, use a phone signal tracer?" Galway shook his head. "Come on, General—don't you think Lathe's just a little too smart to fall for that?"
"What else is he going to do—go there personally?" Quinn retorted. "Hardly. Not after what they pulled on him there last night."
"Unless he expects everyone to reason that way," Galway suggested slowly. "And in that case he might do just that."
Quinn paused, a battle clearly going on behind his eyes. "Well... maybe," he conceded at last, and Galway could sense how much the admission was costing him. "You think I should put a Security cordon around the bar, then, as well as trace the phone lines?"
"I frankly don't think a cordon would work, sir," Galway said. "You saw how easily he identified the plain-dressed units out there today—blackcollars have a knack for spotting Security troops. I think you'd do better to try and use people he'll be expecting to see at the Shandygaff anyway."
"Chong and Briller?" Quinn pulled at his lip. "Interesting. May be worth a try—they'd certainly be keen for another round with him."
"You could feed a tip to them via your informer that Lathe's going to show," Galway suggested.
"They probably can't actually stop him, but they may be able to slow him down enough for you to get an aircar full of troops there in time."
"The bosses won't like that part," Quinn growled. "Especially if their mall stores are damaged in the process."
"You weren't there last night," Galway said grimly. "They were more furious at what could have happened to their own skins in there. I don't think they'd make more than token noises over a successful attempt to cage the man responsible for the fight."
"A 'successful' attempt, you say?" Quinn said with sudden coolness. "Well, rest assured, Galway—this one will damn well be successful."
"Yes, sir." Galway sighed, a heavy weight seeming to settle onto his back. For a minute the frustrating rift between him and Quinn had shown signs of closing... but now, for no real reason, they were suddenly back at odds again. "If I can do anything to help, General—"
"I think you've done all you need to," Quinn cut him off. "You might want to stop by the situation room later, though, and watch us nail your blackcollar comsquare." Picking up a report, the general slid it into his reader.
Getting up, Galway headed silently for the door.
—
"You're not serious," Reger's voice said from the doorway.
Lathe swiveled in his chair to see the other standing just inside the living room, a disbelieving frown on his face. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that," the comsquare said reproachfully, though all five blackcollars had heard the other's approach. "What aren't we serious about?"
"Don't play innocent," Reger growled. "You barely escape from a Security noose this afternoon, and now you're proposing to go put your heads right back into it? What kind of a fool do you take Quinn for, anyway?"
"An unimaginative one, for starters," Skyler said dryly from the lounge chair where he was stretched out. "Chances are he'll reason it exactly the same way you just did, that we're far too intelligent to try something that stupid."
Reger snorted. "The hell with what chances are—and to hell with Quinn, for that matter, because you've got a damn sight more trouble than just him. I've been hearing foam-mouthing from all over the city today over what you dimbos pulled last night in the Shandygaff. You go back there and Nash'll hang your skins out to dry, while the customers stand up and applaud."