Mistworld (Deathstalker Prelude) (17 page)

He hurt me
, thought Stargrave incredulously.
I’ll cripple him for that. I’ll cut out his tongue and put out his eyes. I’ll stamp on his ribs till they crack and break. He hurt me!

His sword slipped out of his numb fingers and fell to the floor. Stargrave looked at it stupidly. Something warm and wet was soaking his chest. He put his hand to it and his fingers came away covered with blood. His vision blurred, and all the sounds in the office seemed to come from very far away. The strength went out of his legs, and he sat down suddenly. His eyes closed and his head dropped forward as the last of his life’s blood pumped slowly out of his severed throat.

Donald Royal leaned back against the wall and waited patiently for his ragged breathing to get back to normal. An interesting opponent, but not very bright. He turned to see how Skye was doing, but she had already killed her man, and was busily searching through his pockets.

“Anything interesting?” asked Donald.

Skye held up a bulging purse and hefted it in her hand. It clinked musically. “I hate working for nothing,” said Skye calmly. She straightened up, tied the purse onto her belt, and looked round her office. The five dead men had shed a lot of blood. Skye wrinkled her nose, and scowled. “What a mess. Why couldn’t they have attacked us on the street? Ah well. We’d better get out of here before someone calls the Watch.”

“Right,” said Donald, pushing himself away from the wall. “You can stay at my place for a while. I’ve got plenty of rooms. Do you still have any doubts that Vertue is our man?”

“None at all.”

“Good.” Donald hefted his sword thoughtfully. “As soon as things have quieted down some, I think we’ll pay him a little visit. I’m quite looking forward to speaking with Dr. Leon Vertue.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Closing Trap

TYPHOID Mary stalked the city streets, hidden in the curling mists.

Mary wasn’t really insane, just programmed. The Empire had altered her according to its needs, but Mary never knew that. As far as she knew, she was just another refugee, running from the Empire. Time moved for her in fits and starts, and memories from one day rarely passed to the next. The only constants in her shifting life were her terror of being captured and handed back to the Empire, and her need for the object she sought; the desperate, overwhelming need that kept her roaming the mist-choked streets and would not let her rest.

When she was a child on her father’s estate, they’d called her greedy. Her mother said Mary had a sweet tooth; if she saw something pretty, she just couldn’t resist it. Her father gave her a sapphire for her tenth birthday, because she pleaded for it so; a small polished stone with a heart of cold blue fire. It cost her father a great deal, since sapphires are very rare, but Mary neither knew nor cared. It was enough that it was pretty and she had wanted it. She hung it from a chain of rolled gold, and wore it always round her neck. The sapphire became her constant companion in good times and bad, through triumph and heartbreak. Now it was gone, and she wanted it back.

Someone had stolen it from her. She didn’t know who or why, but ever and always a dark whisper in the back of her mind kept her moving, searching, hunting. From time to time it seemed to her that she’d found the thief, but somehow it never was, and she had to go on looking. Sooner or later, she would find her sapphire. She had to.

Scurrying from shadow to shadow, ever fearful of the Empire, Mary roamed the crooked streets and alleyways of Mistport. Deep within her, madness stirred. Behind her lay a trail of the dead and the brainburned, but she never knew that. Typhoid Mary had been programmed.

She hurried through the narrow streets, hidden in the mists. In the houses she passed, children woke screaming in the night and would not be comforted.

“People are dying by the hundreds, Investigator! I don’t have the time or the patience to indulge your vendetta against Vertue any longer!” Steel hammered on the nearest console with his fist to make his point, and then growled under his breath as Topaz looked calmly back at him. Steel breathed deeply, and fought to hold onto his temper.

Behind her calm mask, Investigator Topaz felt deathly tired. It had all seemed so simple when she began. All she had to do was track down her husband’s murderer and kill him, and then everything would be settled and she could carry on with her life again. Now Blackjack was dead, but nothing was settled. It might have been the mercenary’s finger on the trigger, but Vertue had given the order. She didn’t even know why. All she knew for sure was that Michael hadn’t been the intended target. He died only because Topaz had lent him her cloak. He died because Blackjack had mistaken him for her.

Her first impulse had been to hunt Vertue down and kill him slowly, but she soon realised she couldn’t do that. In the past few days she had given herself over entirely to death and destruction, and only Blackjack’s death had shocked her sane again. It was the Empire that had taught her to think in such ways, the Empire that had taught her to kill and destroy. Over the years, Michael Gunn had shown her other ways to live, more human ways, and Topaz had thought her past was gone forever. Now she knew she’d only buried it deep down inside her. It was still there, and always would be, waiting to be called forth again. All she had to do was give up the humanity Michael had so painstakingly taught her. She couldn’t do that, she wouldn’t do that, not even to avenge Michael’s death. He wouldn’t have wanted it.

And so she had holstered her gun and sheathed her sword, and used her position in the city Watch to go after Vertue, using the law and all its slow-moving processes. It wasn’t easy. As far as the law was concerned, Dr. Leon Vertue was a hard-working and honest citizen. Everyone in Mistport knew what he was and what he did, but there was no proof. Vertue saw to that. Those who enquired too deeply into his business had a habit of disappearing. But Topaz didn’t give up easily. She fought on, step by step, working her way closer to Vertue and all his hidden dirty secrets, despite everything legal and illegal he could put in her path.

And all the time she thought how good it would feel to draw her sword and cut him down, and watch the blood flow from his dying body.

“Are you listening to me, Investigator?” Topaz jumped as Steel pushed his face close to hers. “Much as I sympathize with the loss of your husband, you can’t spend all your time chasing after Vertue. It’s not as if you had any real evidence against him.”

“I have enough to satisfy me.”

“That’s not good enough, and you know it.” Steel moved away and sat on the edge of his desk, which creaked complainingly under his weight. Steel ignored it, his gaze fixed on Topaz. “You haven’t been here long, Investigator. In a place like Mistport, the Watch has to be above suspicion. There’s always going to be a certain amount of graft and kickbacks; that’s what helps keep the city running. But there’s no place in the Watch for personal vendettas. We don’t have many laws here, Investigator, but those we do have are enforced vigorously. They have to be. If they weren’t, we’d fall into barbarism in under a generation, and the Empire would wipe us out. We survive because we’re harder on ourselves than the Empire ever was. It’s not easy being free.

“That’s why I’m ordering you to leave Vertue alone. If he’s broken the law, the law will punish him. Eventually. In the meantime, I need you here. Mistport’s coming apart at the seams, and with the rest of the Council either dead or missing, I’ve ended up in charge of the whole damn mess. I can’t handle everything, Investigator; I need people around me I can trust. That’s why I went to so much trouble to keep you out of jail after you carved up Taylor and Blackjack. But if you keep going after Vertue, there’s nothing more I can do for you. Vertue may well be as crooked as a corkscrew, but he’s gone to great pains to hide it. He also has friends in high places. Very influential friends, who are presently doing their best to make my life even more difficult than it already is. You step one foot out of line, Investigator, and I’ll have no choice but to cut you off at the knees. So, either you start pulling your weight, or I’ll withdraw my protection and let the wolves have you. Is that clear?”

“Quite clear, Director. I had already come to the same conclusion myself; Vertue can wait. Acting under my instructions and your authority, the city Watch have sealed off Mistport. Nobody gets in or out until this plague’s under some kind of control. Quarantine is enforceable on pain of death. Surviving victims of the plague are being held in isolation, and Mistport’s medical staff are working round the clock to discover some common link between them. Now please be seated, Director, and kindly lower your voice. I don’t care to be shouted at.”

Steel scowled, and then reluctantly sank into the chair behind his desk. Outside his office, his staff worked furiously at their posts, struck silent by the thick steelglass windows that made up his cubicle. The plague had been running wild in Mistport for almost a week now, and they were still no nearer identifying it, let alone coming up with a cure. Even so, Steel couldn’t help wondering where he’d found the courage to raise his voice to the Investigator. He was probably feverish from overwork and lack of sleep. He gestured for Topaz to sit opposite him, and she lowered herself gracefully into the stiff-backed visitor’s chair. Steel’s cubicle was designed for function rather than comfort, but from Topaz’s relaxed air she might just as well have been reclining in her favourite padded armchair.

The Director looked down irritably at his crowded desk. His In and Out trays were swamped under overflowing piles of paper, most of them ostentatiously marked “Urgent.” Steel hadn’t bothered to read half of them. Of late all the news was pretty much the same, and he could only stand so much depression at one time. It was somehow typical that Mistport should undergo its first major catastrophe in years and he’d be the one left in the hot seat. Darkstrom and the Bloodhawk were still wandering round the outlying settlements, Donald Royal had gone haring off on some dubious scheme of his own, and poor Suzanne du Wolfe was dead, one of the first victims of the plague. Steel sighed wearily. It was a sign of how desperate he’d become that he’d started to think he’d even welcome seeing the Bloodhawk again, if he and Darkstrom would just take some of the pressure off his shoulders. Steel came out of his reverie with a start as he realised the Investigator was talking to him.

“Director, what are the latest casualty reports?”

Steel punched up the answer on his command monitor, and glared at the result. “Worse than ever. Three hundred and forty-seven dead, and over two thousand brainburned. More cases are being reported every hour. And on top of that, dozens of buildings have been wrecked or burnt out at more than half of the sites where plague victims were found.”

“We’re under attack.”

“I had worked that out for myself, Investigator.” Steel turned off the monitor, and stared grimly at the blank screen. “The Empire’s used us often enough before as a testing ground for new weapons, but there’s never been anything like this. The nearest comparison would be the mutant virus they hit us with some twenty years ago, but whatever this plague is, the old vaccines don’t even slow it down.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed tiredly at his aching eyes. Too much work and too little sleep… “None of it makes any sense, Investigator. The victims are always either dead or brainburned. No immunes, no in-betweeners, no recoveries. The survivors range from autistic to catatonic, but not one of them has enough mind left to respond to a psionic probe. We can’t even discover how they contracted the plague.”

“The Watch is undertaking preventative measures, Director.”

“And a hell of a lot of good they’ve done. I’ve agreed to everything from quarantining victims’ families to torching whole streets of houses, and still the bloody plague keeps spreading.”

Topaz looked at him steadily. “We’re doing everything we can, Director. If you’ve any other ideas, we’ll be happy to implement them.”

“I don’t know what to do! I’m not even sure exactly what it is we’re dealing with. The only clue we’ve got is that the first cases of the plague appeared soon after the
Balefire
landed. What’s the latest news on that?”

“The field technicians are still tearing the ship apart, but so far they’ve come up with nothing.”

“Great. Just great.”

“Director, do you remember why you first called me in?”

“Of course. The port espers reported sensing something strange aboard the
Balefire
. But we checked every refugee to come off that ship, and every damn one of them was clean. We even broke open the sleep cylinders, but each and every body was where it should be, and as it should be. Unless there’s some hidden compartment…”

“I doubt it, Director; the technicians would have found it by now. But we never did find an explanation for the espers’ readings.”

“You think that’s significant?”

Topaz shrugged. “Who knows what’s significant, at this stage.”

Steel frowned thoughtfully, and clasped his hands across his belly. “The espers said they detected something strange, powerful… alien. Alien; could that be it? Some alien creature smuggled into the city, carrying an outworld plague?” He stopped suddenly, and rubbed at his aching forehead. “No. It couldn’t have gone undetected this long. Not in Mistport.”

Steel and Topaz sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. The monitor chimed suddenly, and the screen lit up to show the face of the duty esper.

“Director, I have a call from you. From Councillor Darkstrom.”

Steel sat forward in his chair, grinning widely. “Great; put her through! I never thought I’d be so glad to see that grim face of hers again.”

“I heard that,” said Eileen Darkstrom dryly. The screen remained blank, but her voice carried clearly from the comm unit’s speakers. “What’s happened in Mistport while I’ve been away?”

“Death, plague, and devastation,” said Steel succinctly. “I’m glad you’re finally back; things have been going crazy here.”

“Never mind that now,” said Darkstrom briskly, “This is important. The Bloodhawk and I came across something very disturbing in the outer settlements. Communications between them and the city have been deliberately sabotaged, to prevent us from finding out that Empire agents have been herding the Hob hounds towards Mistport.”

“Herding?” said Steel incredulously. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Darkstrom steadily. “I’m sure. Now, that was the bad news. The really bad news is that the Bloodhawk and I got here only just ahead of the main pack. We could see them, crossing the plateau; hundreds of the filthy creatures. They’ll get here sometime during the next few days. You’ll have to take every Watchman you can find and set them to guarding the boundaries.”

“Darkstrom, I can’t do that—”

“You’ve got to! Look, I can’t stop and talk. I’m meeting someone and it’s important. I’ll see you afterwards, and you can fill me in on all the latest gossip then. Darkstrom out.”

The speakers fell silent. Steel hurriedly punched a code into his monitor. “Duty esper, get Darkstrom back on the line. Now.”

“I’m sorry, Director; she was calling from her comm unit implant. It’s not a part of our comm net. We’ll have to wait until she calls back.”

“Damn. Very well, but I want to know the moment she calls.”

“Yes, sir.”

The screen went blank again, and Steel leant slowly back in his chair. “That’s all I needed. First a city racked with plague, and now there are hundreds of Hob hounds headed straight for us. I should never have got out of bed this morning. Ah hell, maybe she’s exaggerating.”

Topaz shook her head. “Councillor Darkstrom is known for her rhetoric, but she rarely exaggerates when it comes to possible dangers.”

“That’s right, she doesn’t. All right, take what men you can spare, and set them to watching the boundaries. We’ll worry about the hounds as and when they make their appearance. Now then… oh hell, I’ve lost track of what we were talking about.”