“As you say, he no doubt believed no one would follow.”
“And as you say, he can hunt here.” She raised her head and looked at him sharply. “How much are his…his trophies…worth? Enough to buy a new ship, maybe?”
“Such is our fear,” he admitted, impressed no small amount that she had so rapidly come to that conclusion.
“But you don’t know for absolute sure he’s here,” she pressed.
“Little in life is an absolute surety,” he retaliated. “That is why police are employed to investigate the uncertain.”
She smiled with half her mouth. “Touché, spaceman.”
He raised his iced drink to her, supremely pleased with himself. Scoring a point off Daria Cleavon was like getting one off Kolya Pahnee. Tagen could count the number of times that had happened on his hands, and still have fingers to spare.
“But you’ve got me wondering now,” she said, and Tagen braced himself as for physical attack. “E’Var’s been here more often than any of your police have. Do you suppose he might be better equipped than you?”
“No. He escaped from one of our own ships. He could have had access to none of his equipment.”
“Um. I hate to have to burst your happy superior-Jotan-army bubble, but I think maybe you should consider the possibility that he only escaped because he had help aboard your own ship.”
Tagen glowered into his cup. The thought had occurred to him. Frequently. Hearing it now from Daria’s mouth only made it sound more plausible.
“So I’ll ask again,” she continued. “Do you suppose he might be better equipped?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well.” She tipped her head back and considered the corner of the ceiling. “Could he have some device that would tell him if someone followed him here? Maybe the reason you haven’t bumped into him is because he’s deliberately avoiding you.”
Tagen drew back and stared at her. He found himself wondering if such devices even existed. Some cold part of his brain reflected that it would be easy enough to hide a tracer beacon in all the orbiting junk around Earth, one very capable of sending an alert to an individual on the surface if another ship passed close enough to trigger it.
“Give me another example,” he said warily.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She thought about it, one of her bare feet patting at the floor in eerie mirror of a takking talon. “I guess all he’d really need is something that could detect your funny little computer.”
“Detect it how?” he asked, baffled.
“Well, I’m assuming it’s not running on Duracells and fairy kisses,” she said archly. “So it’s a safe bet your batteries are different from anything on Earth. Are they emitting anything?”
“I…” He closed his mouth and merely looked at her. He had no idea.
“I don’t even mean radioactivity or anything like that,” she went on, waving a hand dismissively. “Probably even your fancy alien Geiger counters would still have to get right up close to something before it could pick emissions up. I was thinking more like transmissions. You know, something he could hack into if he had a similar computer.”
“I do not know,” Tagen said, frowning at her. “I only know that I could not.”
“Then he probably can’t either,” she said, looking away. “It was just a thought.”
A damned good thought. Gods, little wonder humans had come so far so fast, if this was the way their minds worked.
As if he didn’t have enough to worry about. This was going to keep him up all night.
“What of Earth’s devices? Earth’s resources?” He reached out to touch her knee and she sprang up as though he’d burned her, but quickly mastered herself and pretended merely to be pacing around the room. He noted she put the low table between them. As benignly as possible, he said, “Do you know of anything you can access to aid my search?”
He watched her closely while she thought, saw her consider and disregard any number of possibilities. At last, she shook her head.
“Watch tee-vee, I suppose,” she said. “See-en-en, as opposed to tee-en-tee. See if anyone out there has seen some psycho stalking people in the woods. Or…” Her jaw worked a moment and she stared out the window at the forest. “Or worse.”
Very tactfully, Tagen said, “I do not think E’Var will allow people to see him.”
“I know he can’t just cut his way through a Wal-Mart,” she said. “But he’s got to carry his trophies around with him until he leaves. So someone is bound to notice him.”
“You underestimate him, forgive me, badly.”
“Well, how many people do you think he’s going to attack before he decides he’s done?” she asked. “How many trophies does he usually take before he fills up?”
Tagen thought of the Yevoa Null, the size of its holding pens and of the chemist’s bay full of Vahst. He thought of the preserves on Jota’s moon, of hundreds upon hundreds of humans recovered with E’Var’s name stamped on their hobbles or collars.
“Five?” Daria pressed. “Ten?”
“Many,” said Tagen. He picked up the tuning controls for the tee-vee and brought the picture on again. His law program was on, but he found it difficult to concentrate. A chemist’s pack with only the most rudimentary supplies would not be much larger than his own supply pack. What would E’Var need but a harvester, an analyzer and extractor module for a chemist’s computer, and a few empty containers for the processed Vahst? “Many.”
“Then do me a favor and watch the damn news.” She picked up his glass and stalked back toward the hall. He heard her mutter, “Many,” as she retreated.
Tagen watched her go and then scrolled down through the channels until he reached the media programs. He listened as he moved slowly through the different feeds.
“…dead in a Shiite mosque this morning after an attack by a suicide bomber. The official death toll is estimated to be over three hundred…”
“…mysteriously collapsed. Investigators have confirmed foul play…”
“…making him the youngest person ever to be accused of first-degree murder. A spokesperson for the district has said the seven-year-old will be tried as an adult…”
“…shot and killed seven co-workers and injured eighteen others…”
“…the seventh school shooting this year…”
“…stabbed last night…”
“…dead this morning…”
“…no suspects…”
“…no clues as to the victim’s identity…”
After a while, it just all ran together.
Chapter Twelve
Raven swam in a haze of light, surrounded by invisible colors. She still knew they were there, somehow, but at least they had become invisible, so she knew she had to be coming down. She also knew she was in the hotel and tied to the bed, which was in itself a marked improvement over earlier, when she had honestly believed she was swimming. Breaststroke and everything. Yeah, he was a heavy-handed bastard and a murderer, but give the Devil his due, Kane made some nice shit.
And speak of the Devil…
Kane unlocked the door and came inside, one arm curled around a bucket of Colonel Sanders’ finest. He glanced at her, grunted, and closed the door. “How do you feel?”
The question sparked a strong sense of déjà vu. He must have asked her before.
“Pretty good.” When he only arched a brow at her, she added, “Nothing hurts.”
“Really?” He put the food down, tossed his hat on the table and shrugged out of his coat. “Nothing?”