The Rogue Retrieval (13 page)

The three others kept their distance. They were looking behind him. Logan spun, already slashing, but it was only a woman. She wasn't armed, or armored. A trick. He started to look away, but she raised her hands in a complex gesture. It
was
a trick, and a very dangerous one. She spoke some words he couldn't understand. An invisible weight pressed all around him.
Son of a bitch!
He tried to warn the others, but he couldn't move, couldn't even speak.

Chaudri appeared out of nowhere and bowled into two of the swordsmen, taking them down in a tangle. Kiara approached the third; to Logan it seemed she was holding her sword awkwardly. As if she could barely hold the weight, and fear was written on her face.

The third swordsman smirked. “Just you, little lady?”

This should be entertaining.

He sauntered toward her, holding his own sword almost casually. Thinking her an easy mark.

One more step, Logan thought. The man complied.

Kiara's blade whirled in her hands, even as she spun and slashed him across the shoulder. He cursed and stumbled back. She was on him instantly, her sword flashing. He recovered enough to parry the worst of her cuts. She wasn't trying to kill the man, or he'd be dead already.

Logan felt the cold tip of a dagger against his throat.

“Stop!” the woman called. “Or your man dies.”

Kiara glanced over, saw them both, and backed off. The man she'd been attacking leaned against the wall, panting. Chaudri scrabbled away from the other two as they regained their feet. Logan tried to shake his head.
Go
, he wanted to tell them. Better that two get back to the gateway than all of them be captured. His head wouldn't move, though, so he rolled his eyes. Kiara saw it, but she shook her head. He would have cursed if he could.

“That's better,” the woman said. “We're not supposed to harm you.”

“If that's true, then release him,” Kiara said. She kept her blade up.

“Put your steel away.”

Kiara paused, not giving in straightaway. That was good. Show some backbone. After a long moment, she slid her blade back into the sheath on her belt. Even as she did, the invisible bonds around Logan lifted . . . for the most part. He could move, though every motion felt sluggish, as if he were moving through water. Kiara gave him the hand signal.
Stand down.
His knuckles were white around his sword, but he obeyed and put it away.

“What now?” Kiara asked.

“The big man wants a word.”

“And which big man would that be?” Kiara demanded.

“The Valteroni Prime.”

 

“The gateway is a secret we cannot hope to keep forever. Sooner or later, someone is going to talk.”

—­
R
.
H
OLT,
“W
HAT
I
S
O
UR
E
NDGAME?
”

CHAPTER 12

THE VALTERONI PRIME

R
ichard Holt's new residence, the palace of the Valteroni Prime, dominated the great plaza in Valteron's capital city. Everything about the structure seemed to defy physics and architecture. The alabaster roof curved like a sail over the main structure, supported by great stone chains stretching from a seemingly too-­thin marble pillar hundreds of feet tall. The building was shaped like a half moon, both sides curving up from the ground. From a distance it looked like a fat cargo ship balanced precariously on the plaza, its bow pointed to the ocean.

This structure had astounded the CASE Global's consulting architects, as it was unlike anything they'd seen in Alissia. They were all but certain that a stiff breeze should knock it over, but the structure had stood firm for decades. And the cost of the materials to make it, the labor required, spoke to the kind of wealth Valteron had amassed by dominating the Alissian seas. The Valteroni Prime was one of the most powerful leaders in Alissia. The fact that the former Prime had died shortly before Richard Holt got here was a little suspicious, but Logan still couldn't picture the studious, scholarly man planning an assassination.
Not really his style.

Granted, Logan's own recon teams might have helped. They had infiltrated the libraries and archives throughout Alissia, creating the fictitious backstory for Holt and other researchers. This allowed them to assume the roles of scholars, priests, and teachers—­all backed by planted documents and altered records.

Barely an hour had passed since the announcement was made, but already the city watchmen had cleared would-­be revelers from the plaza. Wagons and horse carts were trundling in to sell produce and livestock. Maybe the city wouldn't starve after all.

They ascended an exquisite marble stair from the plaza to the front of the palace. Logan noticed archer slits cleverly concealed in the ochre walls; a dozen uniformed soldiers guarded the main entrance beneath an iron portcullis. He knew, too, from assets inside the palace, that the roof of the structure was studded with catapults and mangonels. A standing army of at least two hundred soldiers manned the ramparts and entrances and murder holes at all times. It might look like a cargo vessel, but the palace was a warship through and through. There would be no getting Holt out of here by force.

For a hopeful moment, it looked like the guards would challenge their mismatched party. With just the right amount of discord, Logan might be able to slip away. Only he couldn't see Kiara's face, and they dared not risk the comm units while being so closely watched. Besides, there would be no getting Chaudri away quietly. Not until she saw Holt.

The woman magician barely slowed down, though. She showed some kind of parchment with a wax seal. “The Prime is expecting us.”

Soldiers parted ranks so that they could pass. They marched up a narrow hallway—­more arrow slits here, and a few murder holes—­to an immense receiving hall. It had to be three stories tall, with great bay windows overlooking a courtyard that lay beyond. Everything here spoke of incredible wealth, at least on Alissian terms. Lamps burned in dozens of alcoves around the room, casting a warm glow on oil paintings and rich tapestries. Logan had eyes for none of it, though. He was too focused on the man who stood gazing out one of the windows, apparently lost in thought.

“Hello, Richard,” Kiara said.

He turned at the sound of her voice, but wasn't startled. That little bit had been rehearsed, then. He wanted them to know he felt secure. “I hoped it would be you, Kiara. I trust my associates were not unkind?”

“No more than we had to be, your eminence,” the magician said. Her tone was softer now, deferential for the first time. “They didn't come easily.”

“I warned you about that,” Holt said. “Any injuries?”

“One of your men got hurt. The big one surprised him.”

Holt smiled at that. “I think she's talking about you, Logan. That's as close as you'll get to a compliment, from one of the guild.” He moved away from the window and came over to look Logan in the eye. He still kept a healthy distance between them. “You look well.”

Anger simmered in Logan. “Not as well as you.”

Holt smiled in his infuriating way. His gaze flickered over to Chaudri, who was still muddy and a little dazed from her tumble with the swordsmen. She pushed an errant strand of dark hair aside and met his gaze.

“Dr. Chaudri,” said Holt.

“Dr. Holt.”

“You managed to get your hands dirty.”

Chaudri wore a hint of a smile. “Just following your advice.”

“I can see that. And I'll bet you're enjoying it, too.” Holt looked at Kiara. “But where is the fourth member of your party? This
magician
I've been hearing about.”

He put an emphasis on the word, like he guessed at Bradley's game. Kiara said nothing.

Holt looked at the woman magician, who seemed uncomfortable with the attention. Strange to think someone with her abilities would be nervous around him. “Well?” he asked.

“We only saw three of them,” she said.

“There's a fourth. Find him,” Holt said.

She took her men and left down a narrow hallway.

Kiara waited until the door closed, then she turned on him. “Richard, you must know why we're here.”

“I hope it's not for the seafood. Most of the fishermen fled when the navy arrived.”

“You've broken nearly every gateway protocol.”

“I know that quite well, having written most of them.”

“Enough games, Richard!” she snapped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Running the most powerful nation on the Alissian continent,” he said.

“So it would seem. I look forward to learning how you pulled that off when we get home.”

“Home?” He shook his head. “This is my home, Kiara.”

He gestured out the window toward the bay, where a pair of ships with colorful sails were gliding into harbor on a steady breeze. “Look at this place! A world without pollution. Without landfills or nuclear weapons. Alissia has given me the greatest joys of my life. It seems only right that I should do something in return.”

“We have orders,” Logan said.

“Orders from a faceless company,” Holt said. “Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful for what they've done. But I fear that the executives don't have the interest of
Alissians
in mind. Do you have any idea what they're planning?”

“That's not our concern,” Kiara said. Too quick, maybe. As if she were worried that he might go on. Which made Logan wonder:
What does Holt know?

“It's not
your
concern. It certainly is mine. They have shareholders to think about. Millions—­probably billions—­of dollars invested. Eventually, they're going to exploit this place, the way Earth has been exploited.”

“You have no reason to believe that,” Kiara said.

“Haven't I? What about the core samples from all over the continent? They're predicting crop yields, from those soil analyses. And what about the terrain surveys, the ultrasonic scans? Tell me why they're all tuned for precious metals.”

“We've been doing those surveys for years,” Kiara countered.

“It's not the surveys that changed,” Holt said. “It's CASE Global's Earth-­side acquisitions. Two timber companies in Brazil. A Texas refinery. The top metallurgy firm in Germany. They've also doubled the number of mercenaries in the past six months. That's when I knew I had to act.”

“You're reading too much into those things,” Kiara said.

“No. They're gearing up for an invasion. And the ­people here are defenseless to it. That's why they need me.”

“You can't stay here. No matter what you believe.”

Holt said nothing. Instead, he strolled back to the window, looking almost distracted.

Logan ran a quick scenario. If they grabbed him here, they'd have to get back down that narrow hallway, past the guards. There was probably a magician somewhere around here, too. But that might be manageable. Especially with the element of surprise. He eased a hand beneath his cloak to the handle of the short-­range dart gun. How much did Holt weigh? About one-­eighty back home, but he looked like he'd lost a few pounds. All they had to do was get him out of the palace. And they might not have another chance.

Kiara caught Logan's eye; she was thinking the same thing. She gave a curt nod. He drew the pistol quietly, aimed at the center of Holt's back, and pulled the trigger. The dart flew wide, missing Holt by just an inch. He'd missed. Damn! He fired again. Another miss.

Kiara, alarmed, drew her own pistol and fired. This time the dart hit the window frame and stuck there, quivering.

Holt barely spared it a glance. “You needn't bother. Do you know how many times the Valteroni Prime has been assassinated in the past century?”

What the hell is going on?
They all looked at Chaudri.

“Not once,” Chaudri said. “They all died of natural causes. There were numerous attempts, of course. None succeeded.”

Holt turned to face them. “Seems peculiar, doesn't it? In medieval Europe, most monarchs lasted less than two decades.”

“Some less than a year,” Chaudri said.

“I'd long suspected that the Valteroni Prime had certain protections. Now I have the proof,” Holt said.

Wonderful.
The man had some kind of magical shield. Logan considered just grabbing him, but the failure of the dart gun made him wary. Where was Bradley when they needed him?

He almost shuddered at that last thought.

Kiara took a different approach. “It will go far easier on everyone if you come willingly,” she said.

“Easier for you, certainly,” Holt replied.

“I've been authorized to offer you immunity. Complete access to your research files for the rest of your life.”

Holt looked back out the window.

“A financial settlement as well,” Kiara said. “Ten million, transferred to your account the moment you set foot back through the gateway.”

“Free to return here whenever I want?” Holt said.

Kiara's expression grew pained. That was the weak point of the offer, and she knew it. “I can't promise that.”

“What would happen to Valteron, if I agreed?” Holt asked. “Here's something I can promise
you
. There'd be another civil war. Thousands would die, both of violence and hunger. The populace is already on the brink of starvation.”

“Richard—­” she began.

“No,” he said. “You've made your offer, which I decline, but let me give you a counterproposal. Admiral Blackwell has been so kind as to hold a package for me, to be opened in the event of my death or disappearance.”

“What kind of package?” Kiara asked.

“The most damaging kind. Information. Everything the Alissians need to know to disable the gateway, and sufficient motivation to ensure that they do.”

Kiara's face was neutral, but Logan knew that look. Cold fury.

“How about giving us the contraband back?” Logan asked. “The weapons and the disruptive technology make everyone back home pretty nervous.”

“They were meant to,” Holt said. “Imagine if I put them into the right hands. The craftsmen, or the guild of magicians.”

“You wouldn't dare!” Kiara said.

“I have no desire to interfere with the course of Alissian civilization,” Holt said. “But I'll do whatever I must to protect Alissia's future.”

“Yes—­you're so altruistic, Richard.”

“I'm not claiming I'm a saint. But ‘benevolent supreme ruler' is far better than what these ­people had before.” He shook his head. “I don't expect you to understand . . . and honestly, I don't care if you approve or not.” He clapped his hands twice. A contingent of uniformed guardsmen appeared from the hallway and took up position around Logan, Kiara, and Chaudri.

“And here's your escort,” Holt said. “They'll see you back to the plaza. Please send word before you enter my city again. I won't ask my ­people to be so gentle, next time.”

“This isn't over, Richard,” Kiara said.

“It is for today, I'm afraid.” Holt turned back to the window. “Valteron has need of me.”

L
ogan half expected the soldiers to escort them to a prison cell. That's what he'd have done in Holt's shoes, to eliminate and contain the threat. That is, if he didn't want to simply eliminate the threat once and for all. True to the man's word, however, his troops showed them back to the plaza. The squad's commander, a solemn man of middle years sporting an oiled mustache, touched Kiara's shoulder as she passed.

“One officer to another,” he said quietly. “Make yourselves scarce. The Prime's given clear orders for if we see you again.”

“Understood, Commander,” Kiara said.

She beckoned the others and set out quickly across the plaza, eager to put some distance between them and Richard Holt's new seat of power. None of the soldiers followed, but Logan marked a few shadows moving parallel to them. Whether these were Holt's men or someone else's, he couldn't say, but he wouldn't be surprised if they were a little of both—­­people who get an audience with the new Prime so soon after his ascension would be of interest to any number of ­people.

Either way, they were keeping their distance.

“Where the hell is Bradley?” Kiara whispered over the comm link.

“I was hoping that Holt's ­people nabbed him, and we'd find him in the palace,” Logan said. He doubted Bradley would have fought his way free.
He's more dangerous to himself than anyone else, when it comes to fighting.
And yet Holt was still looking for him, which meant Quinn Bradley was on his own in Alissia.