Sword of the Lamb (44 page)

That was a straight say; something in Wills’s eyes put muscle into the words. Jael looked down at the desk.

“What if a member gets pulled down carrying any of this? Some of it might look tice to the Shads.”

Wills gave a short laugh. “Yes, but most of our equipment has self-destruct mechanisms. If anyone tries to open it up to see how it works, all they’ll get is a handful of dust and singed fingers.” Then he frowned and glanced at his watch. “You probably have more questions, but I’ll have to leave it to Marg to answer them. Come on, I’ll take you to the supply room. That’s her department.”

Jael noted that Wills put all the equipment back in the desk and set the print locks before he left the room; he also locked the doorscreens behind them. A careful man, and it was all habit; he didn’t have to think about it.

As they started down the hall, Jael said, “Willie, if they give me a say, I’ll opt for SI. Will I get a choice?”

“You always get a choice, but I’m glad to hear you’re leaning toward SI; we can use a man with your—uh, unusual training.” Then, as if he thought Alex might feel excluded, “I’m afraid your training will make you more useful in another department, Alex.”

Alex only nodded and said, “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

Jael was giving Wills a close eye. He was talking about Alex’s Confleet training. Nothing more. He was lined in on that, which was standard stat for his department, but he wasn’t lined in beyond it.

And he hadn’t read a glim of it in Alex Ransom’s face. Wills was a careful, ready man with a quick eye, but even he didn’t tally the gim.

PERSONAL FILE: E. RADEK CASE NOTES: 13 AUGUS 3253

SUBJECT: ALEX RANSOM

Alex has been in GT two weeks, and he continues to demand more of himself than his instructors ever could. Ben tells me both our new recruits are adept with Security and Intelligence devices and techniques, especially Jael. In fact, SI has picked up a few pointers from our Outsider. Alex has shown particular skill with conditioning techniques and even achieved a Level 3 on one of the volunteer subjects. This is in consent, of course, but still remarkable.

I saw Edgar Jeans yesterday, and he’s fairly dancing with frustration over his new students. He calls them natural talents, which isn’t entirely true in either case; they’ve both had stringent training of one sort or another in the art of acting. Master Jeans wants both of them for his theater group, but neither has shown any interest in it. Jael will undoubtedly be assigned outside Fina, and Alex is too goal-fixated to indulge in the frivolities so vital to the sanity of less single-minded mortals. His only recreation is a nightly session in the gym. Jobe apparently backed him into a corner on the fencing, but perhaps I’m being overanxious about that. Certainly it’s a useful identity reference and probably should be encouraged if the Lord Alexand isn’t to be completely buried.

Ben and Andreas and I discussed the Ransom Alternative last night. Andreas is still reluctant to believe that Predis would put his personal ambition before the best interests of the Phoenix, but Ben is, of course, more pragmatic. He’s been watching Predis closely. And Predis has been watching Alex. But so far he’s made no overt moves.

When Jael left the dressing room, it was nearly 23:00, and that surprised him. He’d stayed in the pool longer than he intended. But he’d had good company there. Val Severin had a way of making time slip.

At the open door of the gym he stopped, hearing the clash of foils echoing in the cave chamber. He relaxed against the doorjamb to watch. He didn’t know the rules of this game, nor did he care; he found it interesting enough without knowing the fine points.

Both combatants were stripped to the waist, open-mouthed and pulling for air. Behind the clear plasex mask, Jobe Howe was grinning exuberantly, showing amazing quickness for all his heft and fifty-on years. Alex Ransom didn’t have his heft, but he had reach on him. And he was a dancer. The term was ambivalent in the Outside, but in this case it was no insult. The play was too fast for the eye, the blades throwing off blurred showers of sparks. Jael saw Jobe’s foil strike home against Alex’s ribs, and Jobe was jubilant as they disengaged.

Alex said, “A point, Jobe, and accepted.” He touched the guard of his foil to his mask, then brought the blade down to his side in a flashing arc.

“And that gives me one to your two,” Jobe replied, making an absent imitation of the salute, “and a fighting chance. Ready? Garde!”

Alex laughed and brought his foil up. “Garde and allon!”

The mock battle resumed, and Jael was thinking that this would be an eye-lifter for the Brothers. They nosed up at the Sport of Lords; the knife was the weapon of choice and honor in the Outside. But if they thought the foils too dainty, it was because they hadn’t seen them properly used. This face-off was less than lethal only by mutual consent and because of the soft tips and low charges. But Alex was holding back—Jobe would never get a point otherwise—and maybe he thought that was enough to turn any long looks. For most of the tooks here, it would be. Jobe had supplied the gim line himself: Alex had been training for a SportsMaster’s spot. If Jobe swallowed it, then it would it would go down with most of the members, and Alex Ransom was no dodder; he kept a side eye out and never indulged himself or Jobe except at late hours when the gym was deserted.

Jael didn’t hear the hall doorscreens open—the sound was lost in the clash of blades—but he felt a change in the emptiness of the vault-like room. He turned his head slightly to look along the wall to the door, and perhaps it was only habit that made him adopt that attitude of inner stillness learned from childhood, a process of melting into the background. The man entering the gym wouldn’t even be aware of him unless he moved.

Jael searched his memory as the man paused, then folded his arms, settling himself to watch the fencing match. Alex had his back to him, and if Jobe saw him, he gave no indication of it; he was too intent.

A tall man, who would have weight and power behind him, but not quickness. For age, that had to be somewhere just past forty. The features were Noreuropan: a high forehead, long, chiseled nose, strong mouth, a little thin-lipped, and eyes of dark, brilliant blue.

A name came to mind now. For some reason Jael considered warning Alex, but satisfied himself with watching the man and trying to analyze why he felt it necessary to give Alex a backup eye.

Predis Ussher, Chief of Communications.

Jael knew nothing about Ussher except what was in the memfiles, and he wasted no mental energy sorting that information. His uneasiness wouldn’t be explained by facts. In the Outside, they called it reading a man’s shadow.

Predis Ussher had the power; he was a mover. Imagraphs and holograms never caught it; a vitality that couldn’t be computed. Such men needed watching.

And Ussher wasn’t here on an idle pass-through. His attitude might be that of a man briefly attracted by an interesting phenomenon, but he didn’t know he was being watched, and his face was slipping. He was only interested in one thing: Alex Ransom. And his interest wasn’t friendly.

Jael let himself be distracted by a change in the pace of the blades and saw Alex’s foil make a spiraling loop, then spring into an arch against Jobe’s chest.

“Point!” Jobe stepped back with a wry grin and saluted him. “And match. Next time let me see that last maneuver again, but slow so I can tell what’s happening.”

Alex laughed as he took off his mask. “The old feint to the eyes. I learned that one the hard way. A good match, Jobe. Thanks.” He wiped his forehead, pushing back the wet strands of black hair, and as he turned toward the dressing room, he saw Jael.

But Jael didn’t smile; his head moved in a quick nod toward Ussher, and he thought again that Alex Ransom picked up fast. His gaze moved smoothly past Jael on to Predis Ussher. But there, a tensing, a narrowing of his eyes.

Jobe took Alex’s foil and mask with his own and started for the case on the wall.

“I’m the one to give out the thanks, Alex. These foils have been waiting—” He stopped, his smile fading to be replaced by another that was set and polite. “Hello, Predis.”

Ussher crossed the room with long strides, his smile as contrived as Jobe’s, but more skillfully; a strong voice, rich and deep, that would be as facile as those foils.

“Jobe, how are you?” Then an easy laugh. “As if that needs answering after watching you in action.”

Jobe shrugged, and his smile wasn’t so forced now. “Well, I’m doing all right for an old man. You’re looking good.”

“I’ll never keep up with you. Damn, I haven’t been down here for weeks, and I miss it. But everything keeps piling up in the office. You know how that goes.”

Jobe nodded his sympathy. “They’re keeping the old in-file stacked up, huh?”

Alex waited silently as Jobe took the foils and masks to the case. Jael recognized that almost indifferent expression; there was more here than met the eye.

“We’re putting in some new equipment,” Ussher was saying. “SynchCom transmitters; a new model, as a matter of fact. Lord Woolf’s finest.”

Jael frowned. Ussher had glanced at Alex with that. It was either a test, a challenge, or some kind of reminder. But he gave more than he got. Alex didn’t so much as blink, and Jael found the byplay informative. Ussher was lined in on Alex Ransom.

Ussher still addressed himself to Jobe. “How are Laura and Davy? But I suppose it’s ‘Dave’ these days. He’s practically a young man by now. Seventeen, isn’t he?”

Jael almost laughed. A tooth man, and gifted with a good memory, a prerequisite for the gim. But any inclination to laughter died when Jobe, his initial reserve dispelled, beamed proudly as he turned from the foil case.

“Seventeen just last month. He and Laura are fine, Predis, and Dave’s half a head taller than I am already.”

Ussher laughed appreciatively. “I’ll be damned. He’s a fine boy, Jobe. You’re a fortunate man.” He glanced around the gym, nearly losing his smile when he saw Jael. “I was looking for Jan Barret, but I got so fascinated with your display of fencing skill, I all but forgot my purpose. That’s something I never expected to see in Fina. Who’s your fencing partner, by the way?”

“Oh—sorry, Predis,” Jobe said, “I forgot you hadn’t met my worthy opponent.”

Alex took the initiative with a disarmingly open smile. “Councilor Ussher, isn’t it? I’ve encountered you in the memfiles.” He extended his hand. “I’m Alex Ransom.”

Ussher hesitated only a split second before he reached out to give him a firm, vigorous handshake.

“Well, Fer Ransom, I’d like to extend a personal welcome to Fina and the Phoenix. We need young men of your caliber. We’ve a long struggle ahead of us, but let me assure you we
will
win our battles. There’s a saying among the Bonds, you know: Might makes its Rightness. But
I
say, Rightness makes its Might.”

Alex absorbed that without a flicker of expression, nor did he respond. He simply ignored it, leaving Ussher slightly off balance.

“Fer Ussher, have you met our latest recruit?” He glanced at Jael, who took the cue and walked over to them, giving Ussher a straight eye. Ussher could only meet it for five seconds at once.

“Councilor Predis Ussher,” Alex said, “this is Jael.”

The broad smile snapped on again and the hand went out. A skin presser.

“Welcome, Fer Jael. This is an unexpected pleasure; I don’t often get to meet our new members until they’ve completed GT. I can see the Phoenix is doubly fortunate in its two newest members. With young men like you in our ranks, we can’t fail.”

Jael played to the gim with a self-conscious smile. “Thanks, Fer Ussher. I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am. And, Jobe, you seem to have found a fencing partner at last. I’m sure Fer Ransom is especially welcome to you.”

Jobe gave Alex a crooked grin. “Maybe too much of a partner for this old man. He really keeps me stepping.”

“Now, Jobe, you make most of the young sprouts around here look pretty decrepit. But I’ll admit Fer Ransom seemed to be giving you a good run. Of course, I don’t know the first thing about the Sport of Lords.”

Again, a test or a challenge. Jael caught a cold, hidden light behind Ussher’s eyes.

Alex only smiled politely. “It’s a fine sport, Fer Ussher. Excellent for developing good reflexes.”

“I’m sure it is. Well, Jobe, it’s late and high time for you to get on to your apartment. Oh—was Jan here this evening?”

“Commander Barret? No, I didn’t see him, and I’ve been here since 19:00.”

Ussher shrugged. “He said he was coming up for a workout tonight. Well, say hello to Laura and Dave for me.” He turned to Alex and Jael, offering each a handshake. “Fer Ransom, Fer Jael, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. If I can be of any assistance, don’t hesitate to call on me.” He emphasized that with a decisive nod, then started for the door. “Good night, Jobe. Keep up the good work.”

“Thanks, Predis. Good night.”

Jael was watching Jobe. There was still a hint of that initial reserve, but only a hint. His gaze shifted, meeting Alex’s. He read Ussher; he was no took.

But Jobe Howe didn’t, and there were more of Jobe’s ilk in Fina than Alex Ransom’s.

A tooth-gimmer, Jael thought bleakly; a second-rate charmgaffer who wouldn’t pull a look in the Outside, but here he had six thousand potential tooks.

Alex started for the dressing room. “I’ll take a quick shower, Jael. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

He nodded. “I’ll wait.”

Jobe joined Alex in the dressing room; Jael heard their voices in a casual exchange. Alex was good at that, as he was good at camouflage and at calling other people’s paces.

Power, Jael was thinking grimly. That was the gim Predis Ussher was running, and he wouldn’t be satisfied, like the tooth-gimmers in the Outside, just to pick the fruit and spook. He’d go after the whole damned tree.

Jael sighed. There was a snake in every garden; he wasn’t surprised to find Ussher here. Now he had him sighted, and he intended to do some sniffing around, but he’d waste no time in the memfiles. Nor with Alex. He might read the toothgimmer, but he wouldn’t open up.

But Jael wondered if Alex Ransom read Ussher all the way. Alex was a gentleman born, but Ussher wasn’t; he wouldn’t play by the rules.

PERSONAL FILE: E. RADEK CASE NOTES: 23 AUGUS 3253

SUBJECT: ALEX RANSOM

If Alex were so inclined, he might celebrate an anniversary of sorts today: a full month in the Phoenix. I talked with him this afternoon, but only briefly; he was scheduled for fingerprint removal. He won’t have larynx alteration, and there’s some risk in that in the unlikely—I hope—event of his arrest, but the SSB is so accustomed to finding print removal accompanied by larynx alteration—and for that we can thank the Outsiders—they seldom bother to check VP once they see the print removal. At any rate, he must have some means of identifying himself beyond a doubt if the Lord Alexand can be resurrected.

He’ll finish GT in five days and has been officially assigned to Fleet Operations. I’ve set up an appointment for him with Emeric Garris this evening and suggested to Emerie that Jan Barret give Alex a tour of FO’s facilities. Jan will respond to Alex, and perhaps Predis’s hold over him can be negated to some degree.

I talked with Alex about Jael again today, and he’s still obviously impressed with our Outsider. Out of curiosity, I did a comparison overlay of their personality profiles and motivational matrix patterns, and they coincide to a remarkable degree. That would seem impossible in view of the difference in their formative experience, but the Outside is closer to the highest circles of the Elite than one might think, and they are, of course, both sons of Lords in one sense or another.