Текст книги "Cyteen "
Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh
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It lands at 1500. God knows into what.
"Then perhaps Reseune should ask for Bureau Enforcement."
"Perhaps Reseune will. At the moment I ask you to realize that Reseune's internal stability is threatened. Its sovereignty is at issue. I hope to find I'm wrong. I'd likefor this to have come entirely from outside. I don't see a reasonable possibility that it did."
"You talk about personnel attached to your late uncle, the Councillor. I have questions about that."
How many of the Bureau have ties to Giraud?
Lynch himself?
God, have I made a mistake?
"In consideration of sera Emory's health," Lynch said, "and request for consultation with her staff—"
"Mr. Chairman, —" Wells objected.
"—we'll take a recess at this time." The gavel came down. "Committee will re-convene at 1930 hours, sera Emory's health permitting."
She let go the breath she had been holding, and shoved back the chair from the table. "Thank you, ser Secretary," she said in what voice she had left; and looked to the side as Florian came up to her and cut the microphone off.
"Sera," he said in a low voice. "He's in the tunnels. Novgorod police almost had him. He left his keycard. They're sure it's him."
She almost had to sit down. She leaned on the table. "He's run?" But they could not discuss it; Lynch was moving up on her other side. She turned and took his hand. "Thank you." Lynch nodded. "Take care, sera." Harad wished her much the same. "Sera," Jacques said stiffly, non-committal. And Corain: Corain gave her a long and wary look as he shook her hand.
xii
"Another, ser?" the guard asked, appearing by Jordan's seat.
"I could stand it," Jordan said. "Paul?"
"Yes," Paul said. And after the guard had walked down the aisle toward the bar: "You can't complain about the service."
"Sun off the right," Jordan observed. They were reaching cruising altitude again, after refueling at, he supposed, Pytho. In the dark. But the dawn-glow was visible ahead of the plane; and ever so slightly to the right.
From Pytho the plane could have gone to Novgorod or to Reseune. If it held course as they bore, it was Reseune—which was not, he was sure, any sort of good news.
Paul took his meaning. Paul was steady as ever, his support through the years; and now.
He wanted to see Reseune: it was strange that he could feel that way. But it was part of his life; it was civilization; and he was in some part glad to be going home. He hoped to see Justin.
He feared—much worse things.
"We've picked up a tailwind," one of the guards had said, in his better-than-average hearing. "We're going to beat our schedule."
The tunnels afforded few hiding places, only nooks, the dim recess of the news-shop; that took money to enter but the crowded doorway offered Justin a brief refuge and a vantage to scan the tunnel up and down. Then another public restroom, and a quick shave: he had kept the shaving kit and left the damned keycard; but he was afraid to stay there long—
The crowd in a restaurant, the general drift toward another corridor—another appeal to a shopkeeper: "Can I use your phone? I was robbed: I need to call my office—"
"Better call the police," the shop-owner said.
"No," Justin said; and seeing the look of suspicion on the man's face: "Please."
"Police," the man said into the receiver.
Justin turned and left, moving quickly into the crowds, dodging away, heart pounding. The strength the breakfast had lent him was gone. He felt the stiffness and the sprains, and his skull ached. He found himself farther down the corridor than he had thought, found another gap in his memory; and looked behind him in panic.
There were police at the intersection. He saw them look his way.
He turned back again and dived down a stairs: Subway,it said. He jostled past other walkers, came out at the bottom.
"Hey," someone yelled behind him.
He ran, out onto the concrete rim, evaded a headon collision and dodged around a support column.
People dived away from him, scrambled out of the way in panic: the whole strip was vacant. "Stop right there!" a voice thundered behind him, and screams warned him of a weapon drawn.
He dodged wildly aside and something slammed like a fist into his back; but he saw safety ahead—saw the black of Reseune Security, a man yelling: "Don't shoot!"and a gun in that man's hand too, aimed toward him.
But a numbness was spreading from his shoulder across his back, and balance went. He fell on the concrete, conscious, but losing feeling in his limbs.
"I'm Justin Warrick," he said to the black-uniformed officer who knelt down to help him. "Call Ari Emory."
And: "No," he heard the officer say, not, he thought, to him: "This man is a Reseune citizen. He's under our authority. File your complaints with my captain."
They wanted to take him to hospital. They wanted to take him to the Novgorod police station. They told him that it had not been a bullet but a high-velocity trank dart that had penetrated his shoulder: "I'm very glad to know that," he said, or tried to say, past the numbness of his mouth. And was equally relieved when the agent told him they had reached Ari, and that RESEUNE ONE,already on the runway, had turned back to hold for him.
xiii
"I'll walk," he said, and did, facing the climb up the passenger ramp; but Florian had come halfway down to help him and Ari was waiting at the top, in the doorway, with the frown he expected.
Ari put her arm around him when he made it through the doorway; so did Catlin, fending away other Security personnel; and steered him for the nearest seat. But he stopped, resisting their help for a moment, scanning the group of Security staff for Abban or for strangers. "Who's back there?" he asked. "Ari, who oversaw the plane, do you know?"
"The pilot and co-pilot," Ari said, in a voice only a little less hoarse than his. "And staff we're sure of."
"Abban—"
"Dead," Catlin said, and patted his shoulder. "We're onto it, ser. Come on."
He let go the seat then, eased himself into it, leaned back and stared at Ari in a dull, all-over malaise as she sat down opposite him. "Thanks for holding the plane," he said between breaths.
"Where in hell were you?"
"Went shopping," he said, as the door thumped to and sealed. For a moment he was disoriented. "Sorry." He knew her suspicions—and Florian's and Catlin's. He felt a dull surprise that they let him this close to her. "I wasn't anywhere. I got disoriented. Wandered off." The plane began to move, pale landscape swinging past the windows in the edge of his vision. "I just walked until I knew I was in the tunnels; and I found Security and I told them find you."
"That's not half of what I hear. Novgorod is real nervous about people acting odd around the subways."
He shut his eyes, just gone for the moment, exhausted, and the seat was soft, comfortable as a pillow all around him, while he was trying to organize his thoughts. The engines began to drown out sound, a universal white-out. Someone leaned near him and drew the belt over him. He looked up at Catlin as the catch snapped. The plane was gathering speed. Ari was belting in. Catlin and Florian dropped into the seats by him.
The takeoff had a peculiarly perilous feel. Maybe it was the drug that dizzied him; maybe it was the steep bank the pilot pulled, an abrupt maneuver unlike anything he had ever felt. He gripped the arms of the seat, remembering the chance of sabotage, remembering the fire—
"Wes, back there, is a class one medic," Ari said to him, raising her voice over the engine-sound. "He's got the equipment. When we level off we can get you an almost-real bed. How are you doing?"
"Fuzzed. They shot me with numb-out." He tried to focus on here and now, the list of things he wanted to ask her. "Giraud—Jordan—could be in danger."
"I'm head of Security at the moment," Ari said. "I'll tell you—I'm quite aware of our problems. I went to the Bureau, I laid the problems out, and when we land we're going to call Family council—that's why I desperately want you there. For one thing, you've a vote. For another, you can probably tell things I can't, about what's gone on all these years."
"You're challenging Denys?"
Ari nodded. "I'm bringing your father in. He's already left Pytho. Thatwas for his protection, to get him home where there are witnesses. I could divert the plane. But that would tell too much. Say that I can hide certain orders from Denys. Not a whole plane. It's due in at 1500. We're projecting arrival about 1400. We're running that close. I can stall its landing, divert it to Svetlansk or somewhere, afterwe've landed. I hope to have Denys thinking I'm coming back for safety reasons. But he probably won't accept that."
He had thought he had had all he could take, already. He sat there with adrenaline pouring into his exhausted system and wondered why he was relatively calm. We're going to die,he thought. Somewhere along this—they're going to get us. Somewhere in the networks of Security orders, the airport, the military—the Bureau—House Administration—
"The first thing he'll move on," he said, "is my father and your friends. And they haven't got a way of finding it out."
"I sent Amy a very simple message this morning. It contained a codeword. There's a good chance she's been able to warn the others: she's on Base One right now, and that's a lot of defense in itself. Don't worry."
"God." He took several slow breaths. "Why are you trusting me?"
Ari gave a one-sided smile—her predecessor's expression, so like her it affected his pulse rate. "I could say, because you know how safe your father and Grant are with Denys right now. Or because you made your choice when you told them to call me. —But the real reason is, I always could read you—better than anyone in the House. You're my friend. I never forget that."
"You choose a damned peculiar way to show it."
The smile hardened. "I choose what works. I don't get my friends killed letting them run into a situation I can see and they don't. I don't argue about some things. I'm self-protective as hell. But you're special with me. You always have been. I hope we never come to odds."
He felt a profound unease at that. And reckoned she meant him to.
"I want to help your father," she said. "But you have to keep him from bringing this to Council. You have to get me the time. Give him time to know me,not the Ari he remembers."
"He'll do that for me."
"He won't trust you."
That hurt. It was also true. "But he'll give me the time. He won't betray his friends, but if Iask him I can get that from him. He is reasonable, Ari. And he does care what happens to me."
"That's clear too." She leaned her head back, turned her face toward Florian, beside her. "Tell Wes come help him. I'm going to trank out about half an hour. I've got to have it."
Justin thought the same. He unbuckled, levered himself out of his seat, and let the Security medic take his arm and steady him on his way aft.
xiv
Grant rested his head on his hands and wiped them back through his hair. "Here," Quentin said, and offered him a soft drink from their own kitchen. "Thank you." He took it and sipped at it, sitting on the couch, while Amy Carnath pored over the output that they had linked up to the living room monitor.
Justin was all right; the plane was up. They were on their way back; the worst of their fears had not come true; but they were not home yet.
Ari had stalled the press conference till dawn, putting out bulletin after bulletin, each more appalling than the last, until she had come on herself and fueled a whole new set of speculations– notlaying it indubitably to the Paxers, but by implication taking into Khalid, perhaps even intimating the existence of high-level complicity, virtually declaring for office—
Then, after the news conference, a message came through Base One to sera Amy, and Base One started pouring out instructions. . . .
Amy, this is Ari, via Base One. This is all pre-recorded, so you can't talk back and forth, just listen and do this.
Something's happened. I can't know what in advance, but if you're getting this, something drastic will have happened, and I'm either in hospital, dead, or somewhere outside Reseune and in trouble.
First thing, protect yourself.
Second, the warning flasher we talked is out over the House system now, so everybody knows to take precautions.
Help them if you can. Base One is now available for you to use on Florian's and Catlin's level, and that means you can get information and perform operations without leaving a flag even for Denys or Giraud. The Help function is under Tutor if you need it.
I don't think they'll go at you. They know Base One uses lethal force. I don't advise your taking other people up onto the floor, but use your discretion in extreme need.
Don't use Base One to request information outside Reseune. I can, but for various reasons I haven't incorporated that routine under this access—mostly that it's hard not to give yourself away. I've encoded every single contingency I can think of and if I've activated this, I've probably fired you off a list of pertinent items via a code transmission in the net to Base One.
As follows:
Assassination attempt; from inside Reseune; Jordan Warrick; not involved; Jordan Warrick moved; to Reseune; trust Grant; but; Justin Warrick; whereabouts uncertain; in Novgorod; watch out for; Denys.
Grant drank his soft drink and stared bleakly at the computer flow, codes, mostly, which he could not read, which, very likely, Amy could not read, but the advanced system which had annexed their home unit very probably did read, and Base One answered Amy's questions.
"Damn," Amy said.
Grant did not like that. He waited for illumination, and finally got up, but Quentin's instant, wary attention dissuaded him from taking a step in any direction.
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly. "Sera?"
"Oh, damn!" She spun her chair around. "Security's just gone off-line. The whole net is down."
"Denys is aware," Grant said with a cold feeling; and then saw the black screen come to life again.
This is the House System emergency function. Someone has attempted interrupt. The Bureau has been notified and the interrupt documented.
The System is now re-integrating. Source of the interrupt: Security main offices.
Control of the System has now passed to Ariane Emory.
All Security personnel, stand by further orders through normal channels: Security main offices are downgraded to: Unreliable; House Administrative offices downgraded to: Unreliable; control re-routed to: RESEUNE ONE.
"God," Grant breathed, and sat down.
"Well, Denys has done it," Ari said, and leaned back in her seat, watching the system-flow transit the briefcase flat-screen, Florian and Catlin reading over her shoulder.
"That sounds like my predecessor's work," Florian said. "It might well be. And mine. —I'm surprised at Seely letting Denys try that."
"Seely is likely following orders," Catlin said. "Seely would have advised against it."
"Might not be there?"
"Might not," Catlin said, "but mostly, I think, they're preparing to defend the Administrative wing."
"Makes sense," Florian said. "The system may have downgraded his Base, sera, but I'm sure he's already gone to manual on those locks."
"Negotiation's what he's aiming for. He has absolutely nothing else to gain. Denyswants to be immortal. Giraudis down there in that tank, and Denys can't keep his hand on everything."
"Security won't like to be used against the House," Catlin said. "Abban I can understand. Seely I can. Some of the others—"
"Yakob?" Florian suggested.
"Couldbe odd tape. Could be odd tape on that whole senior wing. They've had twenty years to do it. I don't trust any of them."
"Don't count the Administrative systems as gone, sera," Florian said. "There could be a way—check and see if there's any order for Q system equipment credited to Administrative."
"Security 10: acquisitions: Administrative: computer equipment: search. —Why? You think that could have been the tamper in Security?"
Florian leaned on her seat-back, nodded vigorously as she looked up over her shoulder. "Acquisitions might not turn it up either," he said. "You can rig modules you could port in a suitcase, right down to the memory. Giraud could do it, easy. Right past Decon and everybody."
"Security 10: widen search, last item: computer equipment: twenty-year range: search. —You're right. Denys isn't stupid—even about the House systems. It makes damn good sense: divert Base Two to an alternate system, outflow without respecting any command-level inflow—like a one-way filter, to shut out the House system and still run it?"
"It's more complicated than that, but that's generally the idea. Your predecessor was full of tricks. He'd know there were protections—"
"He doesknow. What about airport defenses? Can we get in there?"
"As long as we have affirmative control while we're going in, and it's talking to us," Florian said, then shrugged. "Unless that system can do something I can't figure. It's always possible. Jeffrey BJ's supposed to be in charge at the airport, and I don't know there's anything wrong with him; but I'd say the best thing to do is check the flight schedules, make sure nothing's inbound, and then use the override to reorient and then lock down: that way if Denys' Base is going to touch anything off it won't hit anything."
"I can name you a handful," Catlin said, "who can make sure that power stays down."
"Youtwo take it."
He came around and sat down carefully in the chair next to her, and took the microphone. Catlin perched on the leather arm of his chair; and for a few moments it was all their peculiar jargon and names she did not know, but Catlin and Florian did.
Meanwhile she watched the dataflow. Search negative. She was only moderately interested. It made thorough sense, what Florian suggested; and Giraud could well have gotten the equipment in years ago. They had had all her childhood to set it up, and make sure it functioned.
Kill the airport defenses first, get the plane on the ground; and then figure something could go wrong with the precip towers: envelope rupture would make things uncomfortable for anyone trying to get to the House; figure that Denys might simply have ordered the buses uphill and parked them.
Search:she keyed, airport: bus, ser # ?; graph.
The schematic of Reseune turned up both buses, at the front of the Administrative wing.
She keyed orders to the main boards at the precip towers. They were an hour away from the field.
Then she got up and went, herself, back where her Security staff sat talking together: they had heard the net go down and re-establish itself, each and every one of them who had been listening to the net, and that was all of them, she figured.
"We're doing all right," she said. "Stay seated: listen. Florian's taking the defenses down. Wes, Marco, you stay with me and Dr. Warrick, on the plane: we're going to be busy as hell and someone's got to coordinate whatever they can set for our protection. Dr. Warrick's a friendly, but he doesn't know the Rules: if so happen we have to move, you see he does what you tell him. The advance team is going to have to get into Administrative, and Florian and
Catlin are going to be leaders going in. Tyler, you're First after either one of them."
"Yes, sera," Tyler said, a smallish, wiry man, white-haired and crew-cut. Tyler had served as one of Ari senior's staff. Two of the others were retired marines, Wes was a Green Barracks instructor, and the rest ranged from diplomatic security to Marco, who was a systems programmer.
"We'll have a number of other Security on call-up," she said. "Take that advisement from Catlin: she's doing the organization, Florian's doing the special work, Catlin will brief you: we've kept this operation in ready-state for the last two years, not quite like we're improvising, all right? We just didn't know our target. Now we do. And we know right where the keys are. All right?"
"Yes, sera."
She patted Tyler's shoulder, walked back down the narrow aisle past the galley and the staff restrooms; and opened the door of the bedroom. Justin was asleep, completely out.
Burns and bruises, Wes had said. Memory gaps were the serious part; but, as Wes put it, you have one go off next to you, you drop a few things. Nothing unusual.
"Wake up," she said. "Justin. I need you up front."
xv
"They're in," Amy said. "That's the Tower. They're on the ground." Grant, leaning on the back of the couch, breathed again. Amy had confused hell out of Security, changing the whereabouts of everyone on her list for protection, lying with one output while she monitored the whereabouts of every Security unit in the buildings they could access, called Security personnel on the Approved list to Wing One, and secured the doors.
While Sam Whitely down at the motor pool arranged transport for Green Barracks personnel and Maddy Strassen and 'Stasi Ramirez and Tommy Carnath had simply gone missing to unlikely places as lies in the net persuaded any inquirers they had taken refuge in B lab and down in the Ag lab.
Call to Family council,the advisement flashed out on the net: Ariane Emory, calling emergency session via House System, to consider the question: nomination of Dr. Yanni Schwartz to replace Denys Nye as Administrator of Reseune, meeting to be held at 1700 or as soon as practical.
Grant stood back and folded his arms. Hehad no vote. He was following the scroll of activity on the monitor, that had accelerated markedly ever since RESEUNE ONEhad entered approach. That last advisement came as a vast relief to more than himself, he thought: a calculated bit of psych, a tag of grim humor: Emory in full flower.
There were Security orders all over the system of a sudden, outpouring from Base One.
Ari did not look up from the screen; and Justin did not speak, following the flow on an auxiliary Florian had used. Occasionally she gave a voice input or pushed a key; and changes happened. Queries were incoming: RESEUNE ONE'screw, forward, kept their posts, keeping the plane ready to move away and, if the airport seemed threatened, to take to the air again.
He had much rather stay on the ground; and he wished to hell he had some knowledge of the codes that might have told him where things stood.
"We're all right," Ari said. "Sam's got the trucks up from Green; they're going up the hill—no challenge yet. He's holding inside Administration, probably inside Security itself."
She made more changes.
She could, she said, open any doors that were not disabled or under an outlaw Base's control.
Makes it easier,Florian had said, stuffing the pockets of his jacket with various small components out of his own kit—probes and wire, mostly, with some sort of system evident. And Florian had taken a small bag from a locker, and another from a second locker; and handled those very carefully, while Catlin had arranged things with the Security agents aft.
They must be halfway up the hill now, Justin thought.
"Sera,"the intercom said suddenly, communication from RESEUNE ONE'screw. "We've got a phone relay from Administration. Dr. Nye, asking to speak with you personally, sera."
"Don't divert your attention," Justin muttered.
"Damn right. —Put it over the intercom; we're all intimate here. —Justin, punch that yellow button on your arm-rest and pass me the mike, will you? This one's engaged."
"Ari,"Denys' voice said over the intercom. "I really think you're being a little excitable."
Ari laughed, never taking her eyes from the screen in front of her. She held out her left hand and Justin laid the mike-wand into it. "Are you hearing me, uncle Denys?"
"I'm hearing you fine, dear. I wish you'd make clear exactly what's going on here, and call off your troops before they do serious damage to the wing."
"You want to unlock those doors, uncle Denys? We can talk about this. I promise you'll be safe. I'll even continue Giraud."
"I don't know what happened in Novgorod: I'm sure it's more than you've told me. Can we talk about this?"
"I don't mind."
"I'm willing to resign. I want protection for myself and my people. I think that's reasonable."
"Perfectly reasonable, uncle Denys. How do we make that official?"
"You stop your people. You guarantee me custody of Giraud's replicate. I'm perfectly willing to accept retirement. I have the means to make taking this place extremely expensive; but there's no need. I have the feeling you must blame me for the events in Novgorod—"
Ari laughed again, with less humor, Justin thought. "I really don't know, uncle Denys. I don't entirely care. I've rather well overrun the course you set for me; and it's mytime. The changing of the seasons. Perfectly natural. You can have a wing, you can have your comforts– I know that matters to you, uncle Denys. You can work on your books, – I do know about that. They're wonderful. You have so much valuable yet to do. . . ."
"You're very flattering, young sera. I want Seely."
Ari was silent a moment. "Under some restrictions. I can agree to that."
"You don't touch him!"
"I wouldn't hurt Seely, uncle Denys. We can work something out. I promise you. I won't file charges. Your life will be exactly the same. You don't travel anyway; and you'll have Giraud to occupy you and Seely, won't you? You were a damned good parent, you know; and very kind, really you were. You could have done a lot of things to me Geoffrey did to Ari senior; and you took a chance with the program and didn't. I really have quite a warm feeling for you about that, uncle Denys; and for Seely; and for Giraud. Giraud and I got to be really close at the last; and I really don't think he did it, I think it was a worm in Abban's tapes. I think it was something you put there. Maybe not. I may have an over-active imagination. —They're going to take those doors down, uncle Denys; and practically speaking, —you're running out of time."
"Stop them."
"Are you going to come outside, uncle Denys? With Seely?"
"All right. When you get up here. I want a guarantee of safety."
"You have it in my word, uncle Denys."
"I want you here to control your people. Then I'll open the doors."
Justin shook his head. Ari looked at him and said: "All right, uncle Denys. I'll be up there." She pointed at the button on Justin's seat. Justin pushed it, breaking contact.
"Ari?"
Ari pushed a button on her chair arm. "We're finished. Break contact."
"Ari," Justin said, "he wants you in range."
Ari watched the screen and said: "That might be, but he's in an awfully bad position." She picked up her own microphone. "We've got contact with Denys. He says hold off, he's just resigned. Confirm; pick it up. —Justin: youstay here."
"Dammit, Ari, —"
" Iwouldn't be going up there, except I hope we can do this without a shot. I'm enough for Security to worry about; they don't need another one. If something goes badly wrong, this plane is going back to Novgorod, and you can tell the Bureau the whole damn mess, then do what you like. But I'd prefer you back in Reseune, running another of my sets. I'll even let you pick the surrogates."
He stared at her.
"I have a lot of unfinished business," Ari said, standing by the seat. "If I don't make it out of this—getting me back is a real priority. Gehenna is only oneof the problems. And you need me the same as I need you."
She gathered up Marco, and Wes unsealed the door, and sealed it again after her.
It was true, he thought as that door closed. Everything else considered, —it was true.
Then he thought of what she had said: onlyone of the problems;and: the same as I need you. . . .
xvi
"I don't like this," Florian said, crouched close to Catlin, where the bus and the hill made a little cover a curve away from the glass main doors. His hands were cold, exposed to the air: he protected the left one under his arm and watched the data-flow on the hand-held monitor in his right.
"It's a case of What's he got," Catlin said, tucked down tight, chest against arms against knees.
"Seely isn't sera's kind of problem," Florian said.
Catlin looked at him, quick and hard. "Sniper or something bigger up there. You want those doors?"
"Grenade will handle that. They're doing final prep in there now, I'm sure of it, now sera's left the airport. This whole thing is a set."
"Go, then," Catlin said. "You time it. There's got to be a trigger in that hall."
Florian took a breath, flexed a stiffened hand and an injured shoulder. "Photocell, likely. Floor and body-height, with an interrupt, electric detonator, best guess—I'm first in on this one."
The shockwave shook the bus; and Ari was already ducking when Marco grabbed her and pulled them both down, but she fought to get a look as the bus made the turn.
Smoke billowed up from the area of the Administration Wing front doors. She could see the other bus parked on the slope. The black-uniformed group there was in sudden motion, running uphill.
Her driver stopped.
Marco pulled her flat and threw himself over her.
As the air shook and clods peppered the windows.
Florian picked himself up, wiped his eyes and staggered to his feet as someone helped him, he was not sure who, but it was from behind and it was friendly if it got him up again.
He saw Catlin ahead of him in the dim hall, saw her arm a grenade and wait, the thing live in her hand—because somebody like Seely could give it back to you.
She threw it, but a black blur came out that door.
Florian snapped his pistol up and fired; and the grenade blew the whole doorway to rum. Catlin had fired too. She took another shot, point-blank, to be sure.
Florian leaned against the wall and caught his breath. The net was saying that the teams from Green Barracks had gotten into Security—up the lift shafts from the tunnel system: easy job, till they got to the traps and the defenses.
The whole hall was filled with bluish smoke. The fire alarms had gone off long since.
Catlin walked back to him, swinging her rifle to cover the hall beyond, while he kept a watch over her blind-side. "One more," she said.
He nodded.
He was not glad of this one. Denys had been kind to them. He remembered the dining room, remembered Denys laughing.
