One swipe of the Amartoq’s claws, and his left shoulder went red. He gamely transferred his sword to his right hand, stumbling out of the way as its subsequent, slower swipe missed him by inches.
Orson lunged in with the sword in a move that looked like something out of The Prisoner of Zenda. It should have stayed there. He lost his balance and stumbled.
The face in the middle of the beast’s torso laughed an ugly laugh. It swung its claws. They came slowly, but they came.
Yarnall, in a movement so swift and sure that it startled her, spun Orson back and attacked in that narrow space, squeezing up from the rear and firing into the Amartoq’s rather oddly placed face. Its fighting snarl evaporated in a red mist.
Orson was gasping for air, holding his shoulder and ankle. “Ow! I think I twisted my anide that time.”
Charlene put a sympathetic arm around his shoulder. “I’ve got some more joint braces,” she whispered in his ear. Flickering, nearly invisible, she tried to prop him up. It must have been like leaning on a ghost. “I’ll let you borrow one if we can get out of this.” She paused, and Snow Goose heard the smack of an invisible kiss on Orson’s whiskered chin. “My hero.”
Orson glowed, and straightened. “Ready,” he growled.
Yarnall led the way.
Something was happening, and Max could feel it. The ground shook, here and everywhere. Fissures divided the giant slabs that defined the walls and canyons. In the distance the bizarre geometry of the alien city was changing shape.
They couldn’t move. They had to wait for the others to arrive.
“Over there!” Trianna pointed.
There were tiny dark figures in the sky. Max saw something familiar about those shapes, and he shouted, “Get down!”
The Cabal had taken Wolfalcon form and were hunting the Adventurers.
There was a greater brightness in the sky behind them.
Max’s nerves were screaming at him to hide! But his curiosity won. He climbed to find a better view.
Did the sun really look a little brighter? Did it really feel a little warmer?
“Max!” It was Orson’s voice, and the brother himself came quickly after it, leaning on Charlene, who was flickering in and out of reality.
“We did it. The satellite seems to be on the fritz… ”
“For how long?”
“Don’t know. By the sight of it, I think it’s discharging everything. The Cabalists who were there were just wiped out by it. We barely got out with our skins whole.” Orson scanned the group. “Where’s Eviane?”
“Don’t know. I hope they’re all right.”
Johnny Welsh’s shoulder wound had faded to pink. “If they had as hard a time as we did, they may not be back.”
There was a rustling behind them, and up through the rocks climbed Eviane. Her hair was wild, her face haggard. “We’ve got to get out of here,” she said. “The entire island is coming apart.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
There were five of them seated in a horseshoe configuration in Harmony’s office.
Izumi and Sandy Khresla were at one side of the table. Harmony and Alex were on the other. Millicent Summers was there, and that was it. There was no need for anyone or anything else.
The office vidscreens played a multitude of images.
Down on the floor of Gaming A, the delegates were inspecting various bits of equipment, displays on the subject of Martian exploration and terraforming. From here, from this perspective, it looked like an army of ants. Alex found himself suffering from a peculiar emotional disconnection.
The game in Gaming B was nearing its conclusion. All nine of the Adventurers who remained alive were fleeing across an unstable ice field. Marty Bobbick helped Charlene Dula regain her feet. Ah-on her other side, a beefy guy named Orson gave a hand, helping her up even though Marty clearly didn’t need any help. Another complication. Ordinarily Alex would have smiled, but he just didn’t have one in him.
On the last screen were images of Kareem Fekesh’s offices, images taken by a camera with no metal parts, built into Alex’s briefcase, clicking along at a steady five frames a minute. Every inch of the trip was there, from the guard at the front door, to the shape, size, and position of the elevator and its internal decor, to the secretarial and executive offices, to the positions of fire exits and security cameras, to the office where Fekesh received visitors.
Izumi said, “We’ve seen everything but the inner office. We can map the shape of it by elimination. It’s not big. We’ve got the air system and the private elevator mapped, and magnetic fields gave us a sizable power lead and a sizable computer trunk, which implies a computer the size of a LapCray 20; and since there’s only one that size-”
“We’re nowhere near needing that,” Harmony snapped.
Fekesh’s face was very clear: smiling, taunting, unrepentant.
Millicent Summers watched Fekesh with a strange expression. Alex recognized it after a moment, and added jealousy to his list of debits against the man.
Harmony said, “So. What is your conclusion?”
Millicent seemed to shake herself out of a stupor and returned to the business at hand. “Based on what you’ve said and on what we know, we can be fairly sure that Fekesh had a major role in the death of a Dream Park employee, the indirect death of an-other, the maiming of several, and the corruption of at least one employee who may still be
… ah… employed here.” She stopped, and looked around. They all knew exactly what she meant.
“Do we have a legal case?”
“I’m afraid not. Not unless we can find the woman, it seems to be just one, who subverted the employee and recruited Tony McWhirter. She’s the link. Without her, we have nothing.”
Sandy Khresla spoke up. “Dammit, Griff-even if we find her, we can’t go to the cops. We’re guilty of obstructing justice.”
“You don’t mean he gets away with it?”
“We can’t even be sure he did it,” Millicent said grimly. “Or if he did, for how much he’s actually culpable. The term ‘plausible deniability’ was invented to cover situations like this. He may easily have made a bad call on which underlings to trust. He may have already dealt Out justice to them. We don’t know. And right now, he’s helped to put together the Barsoom Project. In a very real way, we have to consider him an ally.”
She paused for a moment. “On the other hand, four years ago, there was a major industrial accident at Colorado Steel, during a safety inspection, for Christ’s sake. Fekesh picked up a controlling interest at a bargain.”
“Hardly conclusive…” Harmony offered.
“ Aw, Thadeus!”
“But it does suggest a methodology. Alex, in this room he’s innocent until we prove him guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Okay? We’re prejudiced. We know it. It doesn’t mean we can’t protect ourselves.”
Griffin brooded, staring at his fingers. He picked up a pencil and rolled it slowly, feeling its textures of wood and thin paint.
“Then,” he said slowly, “the way I see it, what we have to do is, first, protect Tony McWhirter. Get him into protective custody now. Reopen his case. Anything. I won’t have him killed. Second, find ‘Madeleine,’ if it is at all possible. She’s the link. Third, keep an eye on the Barsoom Project. Get Welles on it as soon as this chubby-Eskimo game is over. Something is going to happen there.” The pencil broke in his hand. “I can feel it.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, maybe there’s another link.” Griffin touched a button, and the tape Vail had made in Gaming B went on display. It carried a sidebar of physiological data.
Millicent looked sick.
Griffin cleared his throat. “Dr. Vail has already been reprimanded for this violation of privacy. It won’t alter his behavior much, I’d guess. And however distastefully this tape may have been obtained, we cannot ignore its implications. Any disagreement?”