“Answer the question,” the slender man said.
“The Robertson Colony paid an indemnity,” George said sulkily. “Enough to keep them working hard for the next fifty years, my father said, with no offplanet travel until it was paid. Slocumb and DeVries got mindwiped. Viilgas died, but they hushed it up, so his heirs could get the profits.”
“Mmm. You do know more about it than the average young sprout. Tell me this, then: when your father, assuming he is your father, approaches the bench, what does he do with his hands?”
George’s arms strained, trying to reproduce the familiar gesture; he could not say it without doing it. And was it the left hand or the right—? Finally he got it out. “His left hand’s in his vest pocket, as if he felt a pain, and his right hand is holding down the tail of the frill.”
The slender man turned away a moment, to look at his companion, then turned back to George. “So . . . if you’re Mahoney’s son, why should we care?”
“You said already—you know what he’s like. He’ll see money somewhere, and go after it.”
“I’m not rich,” the man said, and went back to the table. He served himself another plateful of eggs and sausage, and George’s stomach growled again. “Why should I worry? He’ll go after the deep pockets.”
“He’ll go after anyone involved,” George said. Some tone in the other’s voice let him think he’d made an impression. “Deep pockets hire their own lawyers. . . . Will they hire one for you?”
“Don’t try to scare me,” the slender man said. “It won’t work.” But he said it without full conviction, and he glanced at his stocky partner a moment too long. George knew what his father must feel, in the courtroom, when some change in his opponent’s body or face let him know he had scored. He had always assumed law was dull—all those racks of data cubes, all those hours under the helmet—but he had never felt anything like the rush of excitement that now roared through him.
Then the slender man’s eyes came back to his face, and the triumph chilled. . . . This man enjoyed pain too much to give it up, even for safety.
“If I escaped,” George said, quickly, against the lust in those eyes, “I could call Lord Thornbuckle. You’d have time to get away, if you wanted, although I would testify that you helped me. The people who thought this up are the real criminals. My father would be on your side then.”
“It’s a thought,” the stocky one said. “I’d rather have Mahoney on my side than cross-examining me.”
“If it came to that—” The slender man stared at George in a way that made his insides twitch. “If we can’t get it out of this ’un . . .”
George hoped his shrug was casual enough. “I don’t know where the others are. You can get me to tell you where I last saw them, but if they were still there they’d have been captured. And I’ve been here at least a day—” He was sure it was two; why else would they have shoved him back into the closet for a time, and kept him below ground level except for that one foray of bathroom cleaning in the upstairs suites? He tried very hard not to think about the cave Bubbles had mentioned. He didn’t know where it was; he was very glad he didn’t know where it was . . . and they might not be in it anyway.
“More,” said the stocky one, and hushed at the other’s gesture.
“Time’s going to run out,” George said. “Someone will notice that we’re gone, and start hunting for us. They can get Michaels to say we went to Whitewings, easily enough, but we aren’t at Whitewings, and it’ll be obvious we weren’t. Besides, that flitter beacon still operates. If anyone checks the satellite logs—”
“He’s right,” the stocky one said, this time with complete conviction. “They should’ve pulled out as soon as the flitter crashed there. Someone was bound to come looking; it’s a wonder they haven’t before now. There wasn’t really a chance of catching the passengers—”
“A sporting chance,” the slender man said. “That’s what our admiral likes, remember? The more chance, the more challenge. But if we can get out from under, while he takes the blame . . . then that’s a chance I like.” He gave George a smile that was anything but benign. “You do understand that we want to be free and clear?”
“Of course,” George said. His father’s son could not miss the undertones. But it was a chance. The slender man nodded at the stocky one.
“Go check upstairs,” he said. “We don’t want to run into the admiral, though he said he wouldn’t be back until it was over, or we got something out of this one.”
George had hoped for a glimpse of the outside world on his way to the communications setup, but the com shack at Bandon Lodge was in the basement. Two long light-gray corridors and a windowed door . . . he didn’t even know if it was day or night outside. The slender man tapped the main board’s controls; screens lit and the soft hum of the audio units sharpened.
“Satellite bounce to the Main House?” the slender man asked. “Or up to Home Station?”
“I’d try for Main House,” George said. “That’d be quickest; there’re people who know me.”
“Here, then. You’re ready.”
George had a moment of panic when he couldn’t remember the flitter’s number, but it came to him. He pressed the button and spoke.
Heris, in the supply flitter with the medical squad only a few minutes from landing, recognized George’s voice at once. So did Cecelia.
“Why, then there’s nothing—” Cecelia said; Heris grabbed her arm and Cecelia hushed.
“—Captive and in danger,” George was saying. “Armed men are hunting them, the condemned criminals and us both. The hunters have poisoned the water. We need assistance; I am at Bandon Lodge; the flitter crashed on . . . on the island north of Bandon. Be prepared for—” His voice stopped, suddenly. Heris found she was holding her breath, and let it out. How had that young fool, of all of them, escaped to Bandon? When he spoke again, his voice sounded different: still clearly George, but a George who had changed in the space of a few moments. “And please recognize the assistance of two men formerly in the employ of the hunters . . . Svaagart Iklind”—Heris stiffened. Another Iklind? A relative?—“and Kursa Dahon. Without them, I could not have made this call.”
A moment’s silence. Heris could not tell, over the sound of the flitter itself and the stirs of those around her, if the com stayed live or dropped the signal. She closed her eyes. She wondered what the militia captain—Sigind—would do. She knew what she would think of so convenient a signal. Which, of course, Lepescu and his cronies would have heard—if they hadn’t arranged it. Her mind began to replay the words she’d heard, even the ones overlain by Cecelia’s voice. “Hunters.” What had George meant by hunters, by “condemned criminals”?
Hunters . . . she had expected to find Lepescu hunting some rare animal illegally, with a band of cronies; she had expected him to be dangerous to innocent youngsters out for a spree. But . . . criminals? People? She shivered suddenly, and Cecelia laid a hand on her arm.
“Heris? What is it?”
She could not see her own face, but Cecelia’s reaction told her what she must look like. The older woman drew back, as if frightened. Heris saw others glance at her; one stared.
“That—!” Words literally failed her; the worst words she knew were not bad enough. She fought to breathe past the knot in her throat, and finally said, “He is hunting people. It’s a manhunt; he’s not hunting animals at all!”
“Who?”
“Lepescu.” Her mind raced, fitting it all together. “He’s gotten convicts from somewhere—” Could they be R.S.S. convicts? She shivered again, at the thought of shipmates—not her crew, of course, but someone’s shipmates—being hunted by Lepescu as if they were only wild beasts. Though it was no better if he had raided other prisons; at least military prisoners would know how to defend themselves, might have a chance. She heard others muttering, the same tones of shock and outrage that she heard in her own voice. “It can’t be!” someone said, and someone else said, “Must be crazy—Lord Thornbuckle’ll tack his hide up in the kennels.” She would have said more, but the flitter swerved, and she lurched against Cecelia’s arm. She turned to peer out the forward canopy. Ahead, the first attacking ships had dropped to their final approach.