Torch of Freedom

Feeling stunned, Herlander keyed off his com.

'What does that mean?' asked Yana.

'It means he's been . . . he's going to . . .' He burst into tears. 'He's the only friend I have.'

* * *

They were practically running down the passageway, now. Anton wasn't happy about that at all. First, it broke every rule of tradecraft. Secondly, there was a genuine risk of tripping over something in the dim light. And there were plenty of 'somethings' to trip over, too. The floor of the passageway was littered with debris. Unlike some of these underground tunnels, this one was little-used. That was a good part of the reason they'd selected it, of course. But all they needed at this point was for someone to get injured in a fall.

They simply had no choice. The incident in the diner had not only delayed them, it had also made clear that something had gone wrong. What that something might be, they still had no idea. But whatever time they might have, it was running out.

* * *

Jack killed the circuit connecting him to Simões and began punching more keys. It was a long, complicated sequence this time—one carefully designed so that no one would ever enter it by accident—and he felt his stomach knotting with tension as the security fences went down, one by one, each seeking and demanding its own confirmation. He was probably the only person on the entire planet who had all of the required security codes, and even he wasn't supposed to have all of them. It was supposed to be a 'two-man' rule situation, but McBryde had always recognized that if they were actually needed, there might not be time to get the designated 'second man' online before it was too late.

I never realized how long this took, a corner of his mind thought distantly as he entered yet another in the queue of required commands and codes. If I had, I would have suggested streamlining things. How does anyone expect to have the time to go through all this rigmarole in a genuine emergency situation? It's stupid, that's what—

The mental sentence broke off in mid-thought as a boldly tattooed woman and three of her personal aides appeared in the field of view of the pickup he had focused on the Center's main entrance. He watched the uniformed sergeant springing to his feet as he recognized Isabel Bardasano and swore softly.

There's still time, he told himself.It takes a good six minutes to get to my office from there, even using the high-speed lift. And I think I can probably slow things down at least a bit . . .

* * *

'Thank God,' said Carl Hansen, as Victor and Anton came out of the tenement. Then, seeing the two women with them, he frowned. 'Who're they?'

'Never mind right now. They're coming with us. Something's gone wrong.'

Yana emerged from the back of the van. 'No kidding something's gone wrong.' She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. 'Our passenger in there got a call a little while ago from He Who Is Not To Be Named. He's been found out, he's trapped in the center, and . . .'

Victor nodded. 'He'll suicide. Good man.'

Yana's grin was purely feral. 'Oh, he's not going out alone, Victor. Not by a long shot.'

That was one of the few times in his life Anton ever saw Victor Cachat's eyebrows raise in surprise. It would have been worth a chuckle except they had too much to figure out and decide.

'If he's going to blow the Gamma Center, we should alert Cary to wait and blow the Buenaventura at the same time. If we're lucky, the Mesans will think the acts were co-ordinated ahead of time.'

He was a bit relieved at the prospect of setting off the device hidden in the basement of the Buenaventura this early on a Saturday morning. The tower itself was abandoned, and situated in an old industrial area that was mostly vacant. There were bound to be some casualties, but at least they'd be kept to a minimum.

Unfortunately, from Anton's viewpoint, they couldn't simply abort the explosion. Destroying the Buenaventura was the key to their faked escape records—which they now probably needed more than ever.

There was no longer any point, however, in setting off the explosion at the sports stadium. First, because David Pritchard might very well get killed when McBryde detonated the nearby Gamma Center. Secondly, what was the point anyway? David's bomb couldn't possibly do as much damage as McBryde's measures would.

Carl was keying the new instructions to Cary. 'Okay, that's done,' he said a short while later. 'What's next?'

'Send instructions to Karen and David. Tell them to get the hell out and go to ground. If they go into hiding now, I think they've still got a decent chance of eluding the manhunt that's about to come down. Which is going to be one hell of a manhunt.'

Hansen's face seemed to get a bit drawn, but he typed out the instructions quickly and surely.

'What about me, Anton?' he asked quietly.

'You'll have to come with us, Carl. There's no way around it now.'

Hansen shook his head. 'No. I'm not leaving my people on Mesa in the lurch.'

Anton set his jaws. 'Carl, if you wait to run until we've launched for the Hali Sowle, there is almost no chance you won't be spotted.'

'I understand that. But I'm not changing my mind.'

'Leave it, Anton,' said Victor. 'He's full-grown and it's his choice—and it's the same choice I'd make, in his position.' He started climbing into the passenger seat in the front of the van. 'Now, let's get going.'

* * *

After driving for perhaps three minutes, in the direction of the spaceport, Carl pulled out his com to see if there'd been any reply to his messages. He didn't expect there would be, since there was really nothing to say and each transmission carried a slight risk of being intercepted.

Sure enough, there was nothing from Cary or Karen. But from David Pritchard . . .

'Oh, hell and damnation,' he sighed.

'What's the matter?' asked Victor.

Carl handed him the com. 'Read it for yourself.'

Victor looked at the screen.

FUCK YOU

COWARDS

FUCK YOU

'He's lost it.'

'Big time,' said Carl.

* * *

It was obvious Bardasano didn't have a clue how deep Jack's own internal rot had truly spread. If she had, she'd have come in with sirens screaming, three battalions of security troops, and enough heavy weapons to suppress a fullbore slave rebellion. And she would have used her own security overrides to completely shut down the Center, too. From her expression, she really was more than a little pissed off over his shenanigans—what she thought were his shenanigans, at any rate—but she wasn't moving with anything like the urgency she would have shown if she'd even suspected what was really going on. Which was why Jack McBryde still had control of the Center's computers and internal security systems.

On the other hand, she's got the ultimate override access authority for every security system on the damned planet, he reminded himself. She can always take that control away from me if something convinces her that's a good idea.

Which was true enough, but entering her own authorization codes would take at least a little time, and in the meanwhile . . .

He watched Bardasano and her aides pile into the lift car while he kept his other eye focused on his computer display.

Only three more entries to go, he thought, and punched up a separate subsystem.