The Naxids decided to shoot fifty-one hostages for every dead Naxid. Sula had no idea how they decided on fifty-one. It wasn’t even a prime number.
Maybe whoever gave the order didn’t know that.
Casimir, who heard the news before anyone else, called Sula shortly after dawn to tell her to stay off the streets. She called the other members of Team 491 and told them to stay where they were, then stuck her head out the door and told One-Step to make himself scarce.
She spent the morning in her apartment with her book of diplomatic history and her mathematical puzzles. At midday her comm chimed with a message that Rashtag, the head of security for the Records Office, had changed his password for the Records Office computer. The new password was included in the message, so she contacted the Records Office computer and found that the Naxids had worked out howResistance was being distributed.
Rashtag was ordered to change the passwords of everyone in the office and to watch the office’s broadcast node for signs of unusual activity. Neither of these worried Sula: she would always get Rashtag’s new password when he changed it; and when she distributedResistance, she always turned off the logging on the broadcast node, so there would be no record of the node being used. It would require some fairly high-level coordination to detect her, and she saw no sign of that as yet.
It was only a matter of time, however.
Casimir called again after nightfall. “Can we meet?” he asked.
“Is it safe to go out?”
“The police have finished rounding up new hostages to replace the ones they shot today, and they’re back to processing ration cards. But just in case I’ll send a car.”
She told him to pick her up at the local train stop. He gave her a time. The car was a dark Hunhao sedan with one of the Torminel bodyguards at the controls. He took her to a small residential street on the edge of a Cree neighborhood—she saw Cree males on the streets exercising their quadruped females, who bounded about them like large puppies.
Casimir was in the apartment of a smiling, elderly couple who apparently did very well for themselves renting out their spare room as a safe house. The room was roomy and comfortable, with flower pots on the windowsills, fringed throw rugs, the scent of potpourri, family pictures on the walls, and a macramé border around the wall video. The remains of Casimir’s dinner sat on a tray along with a half-empty bottle of sparkling wine.
Sula kissed him hello and put her arms around him. His flesh was warm. His cologne had a pleasant earthy scent.
“I think we’ve got a false alarm,” Casimir said. “The Legion doesn’t seem to be after me. Or Sergius, or anyone but Julien. There haven’t been any raids. No inquiries. Nobody’s been seen doing surveillance.”
“That may change if Julien talks,” Sula said.
Casimir drew back. His face hardened. It was as if she’d just challenged the manhood of the whole Riverside Clique.
“Julien won’t talk,” he said. “He’s a good boy.”
“You don’t know what they’re going to do to him. The Naxids are serious. We can’t count on anything.”
Casimir’s lips gave a scornful twitch. “Julien grew up with Sergius Bakshi beating the crap out of him twice a week—and not for any reason either, just for the sheer hell of it. You think Julien’s going to be scared of the Naxids afterthat?”
Sula considered Sergius Bakshi’s dead predator eyes and large pale listless hands and thought that Casimir had a point. “So they won’t get a confession from Julien. There’s still Veronika.”
Casimir shook his head. “Veronika doesn’t know anything.” He gave her a pointed look. “She doesn’t know aboutyou. ”
“But she knows Julien was expecting the two of us for dinner. And the Naxids will have seen that Julien was sitting at a table set for four.”
Casimir shrugged. “They’ll have my name and half of yours. They’ll have a file on me and nothing on you. You’re not in any danger.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Sula said.
He looked at her for a moment, then softened. “I’m being careful,” he said in a subdued voice. He glanced around the room. “I’m here, aren’t I? In this little room, running my criminal empire by remote control.”
Sula grinned at him. He grinned back.
“Would you like something to eat or drink?” he asked.
“Whatever kind of soft drink they have would be fine.”
He carried out his dinner tray. Sula toured the room, tidied a few of Casimir’s belongings that had been carelessly discarded, then took off her shoes and sat on the floor. Casimir returned with two bottles of Citrine Fling. He seemed surprised to find her on the floor but joined her without comment. He handed her a bottle and touched it with his own. The resinous material made a light thud rather than a crystal ringing sound. He made a face.
“Here’s to our exciting evening,” he said.
“We’ll have to make all the excitement ourselves,” Sula said.
His eyes glittered. “Absolutely.” He took a sip of his drink, then gave her a reflective look. “I know even less about Lady Sula than I do about Gredel.”
She looked at him. “What do you want to know?”
There was a troubled look in his eye. “That story about your parents being executed. I suppose that was something that you said to get close to me.”
Sula shook her head. “My parents were executed when I was young. Flayed.”
He was surprised. “Really?”
“You can look it up if you want to. I’m in the military because it’s the only job I’m permitted.”
“But you’re still a Peer.”
“Yes. But as Peers go, I’m poor. All the family’s wealth and property were confiscated.” She looked at him. “You’ve probably got scads more money than I do.”
Now he was even more surprised. “I’ve never met a whole lot of Peers, but you always get the impression they’re rolling in it.”
“I’d like to have enough to roll in.” She laughed, took a sip of her Fling. “Tell me. If they don’t find Julien guilty of anything, what happens to him?”
“The Legion? They’ll try to scare the piss out of him, then let him go.”
Sula considered this. “Are the Naxids lettinganyone go at all? Or does everyone they pick up for any reason join the hostage population in the lockups?”
He looked at her and ran a pensive thumb down his jaw. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Plus he could be hostage for his father’s good behavior.”
Casimir was thoughtful.
“Where would they send him?” Sula asked.
“Anywhere. The Blue Hatches, the Reservoir. Any jail or police station.” He frowned. “Certain police stations he could walk right out of.”
“Let’s hope he gets sent to one of those then.”
“Yes. Let’s.”
His eyes were troubled.
Good,she thought. There were certain thoughts she wanted him to dwell on for a while.
The first use of the Sidney Mark One rifle came the next morning, as a car drew up alongside two Naxid members of the Urban Patrol and gunned them down. Unfortunately, the driver failed to make a successful escape and three young Terrans were killed in a shootout that left two more members of the Patrol wounded.
Despite the fact that the assassins had been killed, the Naxids shot seventy-two hostages anyway. Why seventy-two? she wondered.
Team 491, alerted by Casimir through the Riverside Clique’s contacts in the police, stayed indoors for the day.
By then Sidney had his Mark Two ready. Sula called him as the team were out making deliveries, and he said things were excellent, not first-class, and she could pick up her package.