Dream Thief (43 page)

“I wonder where we are?” Ari whispered to her father. “And what's going on?”

“Does it matter?” The resignation was so strong in her father's voice that Ari spun around and faced him, gripping him by the arms.

“Daddy, tell me. You're hiding something and I have a right to know. It's
my
neck, too. Don't think you're protecting me by not talking. It's too late for that, and besides—I'm a big girl now.”

Her words brought him back. He looked at her and blinked, as if recognizing her for the first time since the ordeal started. “Of course, my dear,” he said gently. He looked around and saw that they were unobserved. “I'll tell you all I know and what I guess …” He paused and looked at her once again.

“Is it about Spence? Tell me. I won't be spared the details no matter how it hurts.”

“Spence? Oh, no. I mean, yes—it started there. At first it was him, but not anymore. He doesn't matter anymore, not really.”

“Doesn't matter?”

“They told me he'd kidnapped you, that he and Adjani were stealing advanced technology secrets to sell, and I don't know what all. I thought I was helping you, Ari. I never dreamed …”

“I don't understand. Why did you believe them. Didn't you know—”

“No,” her father said curtly. “I… I had to believe them. I had no choice.”

“Daddy, who are these people? What do they want from us?”

He turned sad and bitter eyes on her. “It started almost a year ago.
He
came to me"—a jerk of the head indicated Hocking— "and said that there were people who would pay handsomely to know the truth about your mother. I was afraid—I couldn't let that information out. It might have ruined my career. The board elections were only a few weeks away. There had been some mumblings of dissatisfaction among the more conservative board members; my reappointment was by no means assured.”

“What did he want?”

“That was the odd thing. Only to come aboard Gotham and observe, he said. We made a deal: I would let him come on board—no questions asked—in exchange for his silence about Caroline. I didn't see him after that. He stayed out of sight.”

“Didn't you wonder what he was up to?”

“I didn't want to know! After the elections I forgot about him, put him out of my mind.”

“He was there all the time. Spence was right.”

“Spence knew about him?”

“Spence saw him once and had me try to find out who he was. Of course I couldn't; there was no record of him anywhere.”

Director Zanderson passed a hand in front of his eyes. “I've been such a fool! Now everything's gone.”

“What do you mean? We're not finished yet, not by a long shot.”

“What difference does it make?” He returned to his whining tone. He looked at her again with eyes showing white all around. “Don't you understand? They are taking over control of the Center! The space station will be theirs.”

“Impossible!”

“Far from it. Gotham is totally self-sufficient now. It's quite possible. No one would even know.”

“But CM would find out eventually and they'd put a stop to it.”

“By then it would be too late. With only a slight modification of the thrusters the station could be moved anywhere in the solar system—the whole galaxy!”

“They'd go after it. They wouldn't just let it go.”

The elder Zanderson shook his head wearily. “Remember, the only craft capable of traveling that far is the transport
Gyrfalcon,
and it's based at the station. It could be years before another craft of that kind could be readied. By that time the station could be hidden somewhere in the asteroid belt or beyond. Why, Gotham would be a true space colony; it could conceivably go anywhere.”

The thought of a thing so huge hiding out in plain sight in the empty openness of space seemed ludicrous to Ari. But then, the universe was a very big place.

“What will they do with us?” -"I don't know. I suppose we'll be useful to them until they have secured control of the Center. Then … who knows?"

“We've got to do something. We can't just give up hope.”

“There is no hope.”

“Daddy, we can't just let all those people up there become slaves to this madman. We've got to do
something.
We've got to try.”

“It's too late. It's already happening.”

“It is
not
too late,” Ari said harshly. She took her father's arm and shook it hard. “Spence is still out there and free. He knows about them. He'll try to find us and free us.”

“It's too late. He won't know where to start looking—
we
don't even know where they're taking us.”

“He'll find us.” She gave her father a knowing look, “Spence has as much at stake in this as anyone else, maybe more. And I have a pretty good hunch where we're headed and where he'll start looking.”

T
HE GUNSHOTS DID NOT
wake Spence; it was the bullets themselves—rattling through the rusted hulk of the sedan like lethal hail—that snapped him to attention.

The moon was nearly down—the darkest part of the night several hours before dawn—and perfect for an ambush. The
goondas
had been waiting for the sentries to slip off to sleep before creeping out from hiding in the jungled hills. The attack, swift and professional, caught everyone off guard.

Merchants ran screaming into the night. The horde of barefoot followers scattered in every direction, not knowing where the shooting was coming from. The soldiers fired off quick bursts with their M-16s and someone—perhaps one of the merchants, more likely one of the outlaws—blazed away with a submachine gun.

The scene erupted in such confusion Spence could not be sure who was shooting at whom when he dived out of the back seat of the car onto the road. He collided with the crouching figure of Adjani.

“Ooof!” he said as he went down.

“Stay down!” Adjani pressed his shoulder to the ground.

“Where's Gita?”

“I don't know. When I woke up he was gone. The shooting seems to be coming from those trees across the road.”

Spence looked and saw that Adjani was probably right. A thin white trace of smoke drifted from the tops of a stand of tall trees about thirty meters away; a running line of bullets kicked up little clouds of dust as they ripped along the length of the caravan. A few bodies lay motionless between the trees and the line of vehicles, but whether these were dead, wounded, or just keeping down and out of sight he could not tell. He feared the worst.

All at once the shooting stopped. They heard shouts from the trees and then saw the three soldiers walking across the road with their empty hands in the air.

“So much for our protection,” said Adjani.

“What happens now?”

“They will take what they want and—we would do well to pray—they will go their own way.” The voice was Gita's. Spence and Adjani turned around and saw the turbaned head sticking out from beneath the car. How he had squeezed his bulk under there was a mystery.

All around them the groans of the wounded rose from the earth, and the foliage on the far side of the road began to waver and shake as the bandits stepped into the open.

There were a dozen or more of them, and probably others still hidden in the trees. They were dressed in dark clothing, making them almost impossible to see as they fanned off along the caravan's length—they were dark shadows against a darker night. The feeble moonlight struck the bare metal of their old guns and glinted with a cold luster, letting any remaining doubters know that they did indeed mean business.

“We have nothing of value,” said Spence. “What can they do?”

“Kill us,” replied Gita. “It would be better if we had something to give them.”

“Our provisions,” suggested Adjani.

“They'll take those anyway. They want more.”

“Well, let's not stick around to haggle about it; let's get out of here now.” Spence, still on his stomach beside Adjani, began squirming backward behind the car. Adjani flattened himself and followed Spence's lead. Gita, wedged between the car chassis and the dirt road, hissed like a snake. “Stop! Stop! Wait for me!” In a moment he had disengaged himself from his hiding place and was rolling into the ditch after his friends.

They had not run three steps toward the cover of the jungle when a shout and the glint of the moonlight on the long barrel of a rifle halted them. Directly into their path stepped a large, dark figure. His teeth and the whites of his eyes shone in the darkness and he turned the gim toward them and shouted again, more insistently.

Without waiting for a translation Spence turned slowly and, putting his hands in the air, walked back to the car. There they saw that all the merchants were standing in front of their vehicles while teams of bandits unloaded the cargo. From the whining chatter which filled the air Spence guessed they were pleading with the robbers not to wipe them out completely. The
goondas
seemed oblivious to this racket and went about their business wholly unconcerned with the pitiful wheedling of the tradesmen.

Then two bandits were standing before them with rifles leveled. One of them spoke a rapid question to Gita. The little man, quaking with fear, stepped forward.

“He wants to know what we have to give him,” whispered Adjani out of the side of his mouth.

Gita was speaking quickly with fear-inspired eloquence. The palms of his hands could be seen waving ecstatically before him in wild gesticulations.

“What's he saying now?”

“Gita is telling him that we are doctors on our way to Darjeeling to help a friend. That we have no money or possessions with us. He is praying that we be allowed to continue for the sake of our friend.”

The bandit looked long at Gita and then at Adjani and Spence in turn. He came to stand directly before them and peered into their faces. Spence could smell the reek of puyati, the strong home-brewed liquor made from fermented palm sap, on the thief's breath. His face was greasy in the fading moonlight.

All at once the bandit whirled on his heel and barked out a short sentence. In a moment a very large outlaw with a huge white turban and a flowing, striped coat came striding up with a
goonda
on either side. Spence guessed this was the leader.

The two bandits conferred with one another briefly and then the leader turned with a flourish of his coattails and left. Spence thought for an instant that they would be left alone. But the first bandit roared a command at Gita which almost sent the little man rolling on his backside. Gita scrambled for the car and came out with the sacks bearing their provisions. He turned to Spence and Adjani with eyes wide and fearful.

“We are to follow him,” said Adjani, nodding in the direction of the retreating bandit.

“What if we don't?”

“Then he hopes we have lived good lives and thought pure thoughts, for tonight we will have the opportunity of joining the World Soul in Nirvana.”

“I'd rather not,” said Spence. “Let's go.”

OLMSTEAD PACKER CROSSED A N D
recrossed his legs, folded and refolded his hands alternately and regularly. He was bored with waiting and apprehensive that security chief Ramm should be taking so long to iron out the difficulty between him and Dr. Williams. A sense of doom had settled over the big physicist as he waited; he saw his future growing dim before his eyes, and the hobbling shackles of a prison record snaking out to claim him.

And yet, the offense was so small, so trivial, so insignificant he wanted to laugh. This extreme ambivalence of feeling created in the red-bearded man a curious tension, as if a tug-of-war was being waged inside him with first one side gaining the advantage and then the other. And to make matters worse, Packer did not know which side to cheer for. At any moment, depending upon the swing of mood, either side seemed capable of carrying the day.

So, he sat and tried to keep himself calm while inwardly the battle for the control of his emotional outlook and disposition raged unabated.

He shook his red shaggy bead. How had be ever gotten himself mixed up in anything like this? It had all started out so innocently. Or had it? Wasn't it true that there had been something peculiar right from the beginning? Right from the very first moment he had laid eyes on Spence Reston? Didn't all this have to do with him?

Packer was certain that beyond anything else Spence was the cause of his particular problems, and very likely the rest as well. Certainly Kalnikov had gotten where he was because of Reston—
there
was a mystery that begged investigation. Where it all would end, and what it was all about, he could only guess. Physicists did not like to guess.

Presently the outer door slid open and he heard someone speak in the next room. In a moment Chief Ramm was standing over him. Packer jumped up like an eager lap dog and all but barked to be let out.

“Well? Did you talk to him? Can I go now?”

Ramm frowned an official frown. “I'm afraid it won't be that simple. I'm going to have to lock you up for a couple days—until the director gets back, anyway.”

Packer's face fell. “You're not serious.”