Legion (21 page)

Mu laughed. She felt relieved. If that was all it was, if that explained Rukhsana’s behaviour, then she had been worrying for nothing. ‘There’s your answer,’ she said. ‘I apologise for putting you to such trouble,’

Boone’s dark look had not gone away. ‘The trouble’s only just started, uxor,’ he said. ‘As it turns out, it couldn’t have been Pius, unless Pius can be in two places at once. Whoever it was, they fooled me and two of my best bulls good and proper,’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Mu. Suddenly, despite her cloak, she felt how cold the wind was and shivered.

‘Neither do I, lady,’ said Boone. ‘I spent last night surveilling Pius. Guess who I saw with him?’ Boone scratched the tip of his axe-blade nose, and gave her a significant look.

‘You’ll have to tell me, Franco,’ she replied.

‘Soneka.’

She stared at the genewhip. ‘Well, of course. They’re old friends.’

Boone shook his head. ‘Soneka’s got
suspicious
written all over him, Mu. He got out of Tel Khat alive, and came to you with stories, what was it? About a “body” and Hurt Bronzi? Soneka, Pius, the pieces don’t fit.’

‘I’m sure they do,’ she assured him.

Boone shook his head again. ‘Not in any way I feel comfortable with, uxor.’

Mu pursed her lips and glanced up at the slow sky, squinting at the light. ‘Peto’s story was a fabulation,’ she said, ‘he admitted it himself. He was delirious after his ordeal and—’

‘We approached him for a quiet word,’ Boone cut in. ‘Just a quiet word. He fought us off and fled.’

Mu didn’t reply.

‘He’s hiding something,’ said Boone. ‘Soneka’s in league with Pius, or whoever it is that’s pretending to be Pius. I’d laugh it off, but we’re in the deep and stinky here. The companions are closing us down. A purge. If they dig up any real dirt, our heads will roll, literally. You know how forgiving Namatjira can be. He’d merrily eviscerate the geno if it meant making an example of a traitor.’

Mu looked at Boone so directly that he was forced to avert his gaze. ‘Franco, Peto Soneka is not the problem. He’s a good man, a damn good man, who’s been through hell these past weeks. He was shaken and delirious when we spoke to him. He’s no spy. He ran because you scared him. I’d stake my life on it.’

Boone finally found the bottle to look straight back at her. ‘He ran, Mu. He fought us off and ran. He vanished, and as of this morning, Bronzi’s missing too. His bashaws don’t know where he is. They haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since dawn yesterday. He’s dropped off the scope. I swear, they’re in it together, Mu… Soneka, Pius and Bronzi, three of our best hets. We’re not talking junior gee-tards here. They’re encrypt-eared hets; they know the Army’s entire playbook. If it turns out they’ve gone over, the scandal will finish the regiment.’

Honen Mu pulled her cloak around her to fend off the worst of the wind. ‘Franco, would you please come with me?’ she asked.

She led him along the colonnade to a shadowy stone stairwell that led up onto the flat roof of one of the buildings overlooking the yard. Up on the roof, the wind was stronger and the light brighter. Two men were waiting for them at the edge of the roof space. They got to their feet as Mu and Boone approached.

Boone blinked in consternation and drew his sidearm. ‘Hurtado Bronzi, Peto Soneka… consider yourselves under detention and—’

‘Put that away, Franco,’ said Mu. ‘They’re here under their own recognisance. They asked me to arrange this meeting, so that they could speak to you directly.’

Boone lowered his gun, but did not put it away. ‘I’m waiting,’ he said.

‘Genewhip,’ Bronzi said, making a casual but respectful namaste in Boone’s direction. ‘My old friend Peto has an apology to make to you. Haven’t you, Peto?’

Soneka nodded. ‘I was a fool to run last night, really, a complete fool. I was a little bit crazy. My mind was all over the place. I’m sorry for that, Genewhip Boone.’

‘Not good enough,’ said Boone.

‘He’s telling the truth,’ said Bronzi. He fished out a sheaf of documents from his belt pouch. ‘Look, see? Medicae reports. They signed off on him this morning after an exam. Combat fatigue.’

‘Likely story,’ Boone snorted, bringing up his sidearm again.

‘Look, I spent the last day and a half looking for him,’ said Bronzi, ‘because he’s my best friend and I didn’t want to see him swinging in the wind. He’s messed up, that’s all.’

‘Really?’ asked Boone.

‘His company got hammered at Tel Utan. Then the remnants of them were slaughtered at Tel Khat. It’s no surprise Peto’s suffering from combat fatigue,’ said Mu.

‘That kind of trauma would make anyone run if genewhips started pressing the wrong buttons,’ Bronzi added. ‘Your men were suggesting that the Tel Khat Massacre was all his fault.’

Boone lowered his weapon. ‘I suppose…’ he began. He snatched the papers out of Bronzi’s hand and skimmed them. The sheets flapped in the wind.

‘I don’t want Bronzi or my uxor making any excuses for me,’ said Soneka. ‘I can stand on my own two feet. I’m sorry I cut rough with your bulls, genewhip. Terra, I really am.’

‘I didn’t want to see Peto hang when he hadn’t done a thing, Boone,’ said Bronzi. ‘Like I said, I spent the whole of yesterday out looking for him, and when I found him, I persuaded him to turn himself in, to make peace with you and smooth this trouble out.’

‘With my full sanction,’ said Mu. ‘Hurtado brought the matter to me early this morning, and explained the facts.’

‘Hurt convinced me that it was better to turn myself in and face you,’ said Soneka. ‘I realise I should never, ever have run. That made me look guilty as hell.’

Boone holstered his weapon. He glared at all three of them, and thrust the paperwork back into Bronzi’s hands. ‘All right. All right, but I’m still not happy’

‘Of course you’re not,’ said Soneka.

‘That’s why we’d like to offer you something in return,’ said Bronzi, ‘by way of recompense for your trouble, and in gratitude for your understanding.’

‘Like what?’ asked Boone sourly.

‘Kaido Pius,’ said Soneka. ‘Hurt and I are his oldest friends. We can get stuff out of him that you genewhips would never manage, about him, Uxor Rukhsana, whatever dirt there is.’

‘Just give us a day or two,’ said Bronzi. ‘We’ll report back and give you everything we’ve found.’

Boone looked at Uxor Mu. ‘I don’t trust either of them.’

‘I trust them with my life,’ Mu said. ‘They are two of my best hets. Let them loose, Franco. They’ll find the canker in our midst. If they play us for fools, I’ll kill them myself.’

‘She would,’ said Soneka.

‘She really would,’ Bronzi agreed.

Boone grinned. ‘No doubt of that, but if you two bastards are tight with Pius like you say, why would you sell him out?’

‘If Kaido’s betrayed the Chiliad,’ said Soneka, ‘it wouldn’t matter if he was my brother. I’d skin him alive.’

‘Company first, Imperium second,’ said Bronzi. ‘Geno before gene.’

‘All right,’ said Boone. Two days, then I bring hell down on your heads.’

‘That’s fair,’ said Bronzi.

‘Totally fair,’ Soneka agreed.

Boone turned to leave, and then turned back. ‘Soneka? I’m truly sorry for your anguish. A company is a hard thing to lose.’

‘Indeed it is, genewhip,’ Soneka replied.

B
OONE LEFT THEM
on the roof and returned to the yard. Honen Mu regarded the two hets. She brushed windblown hair out of her eyes.

‘I have to go to the briefing,’ she said. They nodded. ‘Thank you for doing this,’ said Soneka.

‘An uxor looks out for all her charges,’ she replied, and then paused. ‘Don’t let me down. Don’t make me regret sticking my neck out today.’

‘We won’t, Honen,’ said Bronzi.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘I want the Chiliad’s house swept clean in twenty-four hours, before the companions start picking at our loose threads. Start with Rukhsana. Like I said, she’s covering something. That’s why I sent Boone after her in the first place.’

‘If we find anything, you’ll be the first to know,’ said Soneka.

‘And we can all go and tell Boone together,’ smiled Bronzi.

‘As a matter of interest, do you think Pius is compromised?’ Mu asked. ‘Kaido?’ asked Bronzi. ‘Not for a moment.’

‘And Rukhsana?’ Bronzi shrugged.

Mu turned to go. ‘Oh, Peto,’ she said, ‘your medicae papers not withstanding, are you fit for posting?’

‘We only got the papers to convince Boone,’ said Soneka. ‘I’d actually rather be working.’

She nodded. ‘With Shiban gone, the Clowns need an acting het, especially if we’re about to go in. I’ll get the warrants drawn up, a temporary assignment for you and your bashaws until I can bring in a permanent new het. Maybe you can go up the line and make an overture later today? They desperately need licking into shape before we go hot. There’s—’

‘Fugging Strabo,’ said Soneka, nodding. ‘I know.’

She smiled. ‘Good. Excellent. Well, carry on.’

She walked away, her heels clacking on the cinder roof, and disappeared down the stairwell.

Bronzi looked over at Soneka and grinned. ‘Shiban’s mob. That’s—’

‘Ironic,’ Soneka finished.

Bronzi chuckled and stroked his belly. He looked out from the roof at the distant, hadean vista of Mon Lo.

‘You think we fooled them?’ asked Soneka.

Bronzi held up his hand. The middle and index fingers were crossed.

‘I mean, I’m new to all this,’ said Soneka.

‘I’m hardly a veteran,’ Bronzi replied, ‘but, yes, I think we’re good. We’d better get on with it.’

He turned to go. Soneka put out a hand to stop him. It was his ruined, truncated hand, and for some reason, Bronzi found this terribly telling.

‘I’m not prepared to countenance anything that betrays the geno,’ Soneka said, ‘and absolutely nothing that would hurt Mu.’

‘Then we’re on the same page, aren’t we, Peto?’ said Bronzi. ‘Let’s get on with it.’

I
N THE SHUTTERED
darkness of his private cell, Dinas Chayne sat in meditation. The cell, deep in the subterranean layers of the palace, was damp and cold, but Chayne had not lit the small iron firebasket, nor any of the tapers.

He liked the cold. The cold had been his friend on Zous as a child warrior, especially during the last, long, hard winter of his thirteenth year. The cold had sharpened his wits, and forced him to steel himself. The cold was a tool that a man, or a boy, could use to temper himself.

Breathing slowly, Chayne took apart the facts, and built them back up one by one. Uxor Saiid. The Alpha Legion. Omegon. The note. His dead Lucifer. The astonishing skill of the elusive spy. The astonishing arrogance of the elusive spy.
There,
the arrogance suggested that the spy was confident in his cover.

Where does a spy hide? In plain sight. How does he operate? Without drawing attention to himself, by being what he is naturally, to avoid question and comment. The best way of doing that was to be exactly what you claimed to be. It made the cover story so much easier to run.

The best cover a spy could have was to be a spy.

Chayne had already decided to pay a visit to Uxor Saiid. He’d had his men watching her since the Lord Commander’s order, to no great result. Now that Namatjira had sanctioned a security purge, Chayne felt duty bound to stop being reactive and bring her in for interrogation.

The morning briefing would end in thirty minutes. She’d be on her way back to her quarters. He would meet her there in person, and show no mercy. She was the key, somehow. She’d covered something during her meeting with the Lord Commander. She’d covered for
someone.

Chayne had photographic recall. Breathing ever more slowly, his heart rate down to an inhuman level, he replayed the moments of the meeting.

‘Rukhsana,’ Namatjira had said. ‘I’m told you were responsible for reconnaissance and scouting at Mon Lo?’

‘That was my role, sir.’

‘You had agents in the field?’

‘I did, Lord Commander,’ Rukhsana had replied. ‘Most of them were long range observers and spotters.’

Namatjira had consulted the data-slate. ‘But you had at least one intelligence officer inside Mon Lo the morning this hubbub began?’ He had waved his hand distractedly in the direction of the window.

Rukhsana had pursed her lips and looked down. ‘Yes, sir, I did. Konig Heniker.’

‘Heniker? Yes, I know him. He’s a reliable man. What happened to him?’

‘He had entered the city covertly once already, sir, and briefed me afterwards. His intelligence was of good quality. He inserted that morning, very early, intending to collect data on the Kurnaul and north wall areas. He never came back.’

‘Ah, I see,’ the Lord Commander had sighed. ‘Thank you, Uxor Rukhsana.’

Dinas Chayne opened his eyes in the dark. It was so obvious, so obvious! He’d been a fool to miss it.

The best cover a spy could have was to be a spy.

There was a knock at the door behind him. He ignored it. His men knew better than to disturb him during meditation.

Another knock came. The alert cursor on the cuff of his armour, stacked on the floor in front of him, began to wink.

‘Who is it?’ Chayne called.

‘Eiman, sir. We have something.’

‘Wait.’

It took forty-six seconds for Dinas Chayne to fully clothe himself in his jet-black armour.

He opened the door. Eiman was outside, along with Treece. They were fully armoured, and stood flanking a nervous young man, the adept from the security post that Chayne had handed the note to the night before.

The adept was clearly terrified at the thought of disturbing a Lucifer Black. ‘Tell me,’ said Chayne.

‘Sir, I have completed the tests you ordered. I have run a comparison check on the handwriting base of all expedition personnel. I have a match, sir. It’s—’

‘Konig Heniker,’ said Chayne.

The adept blinked in astonishment. ‘Yes. How could you possibly know that?’

Chayne pushed the adept out of his way and began to stride along the corridor. Eiman and Treece fell in behind him.

‘Instructions?’ snapped Eiman.

‘Eight men,’ said Chayne. ‘Close down Uxor Saiid’s quarters and bring her to me. Her spy is
our
spy.’