Victory shrugged. “It’s been clear this was a professional job. We know there are domestic threats, trad fringe groups. They might hire competent operators.”
“They might, but this was the Kindred, not the local trads.”
“There’s hard evidence?” asked Unnerby, relieved and a little ashamed by the feeling.
“Um.” Thract seemed to consider the questioner as much as the question. The cobber couldn’t quite decide where Unnerby—a civilian addressed as “Sergeant”—might fit in the chain of command.Get used to it,sonny. “The Kindred make a big thing of their religious roots; but before now, they’ve been careful about interfering with us domestically. Covert funding of local trad groups was about their limit. But… they blew it today. These were Kindred professionals. They went to great trouble to be untraceable, but they didn’t count on our forensic labs. Actually, it’s a test one of your husband’s students invented. See, the ratio of pollen types in the breathing passages of both corpses is foreign; I can even tell you which Kindred base they launched from. These two hadn’t been in-country for more than fifteen days.”
Smith nodded. “If it had been longer, the pollen would be gone?”
“Right, captured by their immune system and flushed, the techs say. But even so, we still would have figured most of this out. You see, the other side had a lot more bad luck today than we did. They left behind two living witnesses….” Thract hesitated, obviously remembering that this wasnot an ordinary ops meeting, that for Smith the usual definition of operational success might count as catastrophic failure.
The General didn’t seem to notice. “Yes, the couple. The ones who brought their children to the museum.”
“Yes, ma’am. And they are half the reason why this thing blew up in the enemy’s face. Colonel Underville”— the domestic ops chief—“has had people talking to them all afternoon; they are desperately anxious to help. You’ve already heard what she got from them right away, how one of your sons brought down an exhibit and killed two of the kidnappers.”
“And that all the children were taken alive.”
“Right. But Underville has learned more. We’re almost sure now…. The kidnappers intended to steal all your children. When they saw the Suabismes’ little ones, they assumed those were yours. There just aren’t that many oophases in the world, even now. They naturally assumed the Suabismes wereour security people.”
God in the good cold earth.Unnerby gazed out the narrow windows. There was a little more light than before, but now it was the actinic ultras of security lamps. The wind was steadily picking up, driving sparkling droplets across the windows, and bending the ferns back and forth. There was supposed to be a lightning storm tonight.
So the Kindred screwed up because they had too high an opinion of Accord security. Naturally, they assumed thatsomeone would be with the children.
“We got a lot from the two civilians, General: the story these fellows used when they walked in, some turns of phrase after things blew up… The kidnappers didn’t intend to leave any witnesses. The Suabismes are the luckiest people in Princeton tonight, even if they don’t see it that way. The two that your son killed were pushing the Suabismes away from the children. One of them had unholstered an automatic shotgun, and all its safeties were off. Colonel Underville figures the original mission was to grab all your children and leave no witnesses. In fact, dead civilians and lots of blood was fine with their scenario, since it would all be blamed on our trad factions.”
“In that case, why not leave a couple of dead children, too? That would also have made the getaway easier.” Victory’s question was calm, but it had a distanced quality about it.
“We don’t know, ma’am. But Colonel Underville thinks they’re still in-country, maybe even in Princeton.”
“Oh?” Skepticism seemed to war with hope. “I know Belga clamped down awfully fast—and the other side had its problems, too. Okay. This will be your first big in-country operation, Rachner, but I want it done arm-in-arm with Domestic Intelligence. And you’ll have to involve the city and commercial police.” The classic anonymity of Accord Intelligence was going to get badly bent in the next few days. “Try to be nice to the city and commercial people. We don’t have a state of war. They can cause the Crown a world of trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am. Colonel Underville and I are running patrols with the city police. When the phones are set up, we’ll have some kind of joint command post with them here at Hill House.”
“Very good…. I think you were ahead of me all the time, Rachner.”
Thract gave a little smile as he came to his feet. “We’ll get your cobblies back, Chief.”
Smith started to reply, then noticed two small heads peeping around the doorjamb. “I know you will, Rachner. Thank you.”
Thract stepped back from the table, and a brief stillness spread through the room. The two youngest of Underhill’s children—maybe all who were left alive—walked shyly into the room, followed by the head of their guard team and three troopers. Captain Downing carried a furled umbrella, but it was clear that Rhapsa and Little Hrunk had not taken advantage of it. Their jackets were soaked and drops of rain stood on their glassy black chitin.
Victory had no smile for the children. Her gaze took in their soaked clothes and the umbrella. “Were you running around?”
Rhapsa answered, more subdued than Hrunkner had ever heard the little hellion. “No, Mother. We were with Daddy, but now he is busy. We stayed right by Captain Downing, between him and the others….” She stopped, tilted her head shyly at her guard.
The young captain snapped to attention, but he had the terrible look of a soldier who has just seen combat and defeat. “Sorry, ma’am. I decided not to use the umbrella. I wanted to be able to see in all directions.”
“Quite right, Daram. And… it’s right that you brought them here.” She stopped, just staring at her children for a quiet second. Rhapsa and Little Hrunk were motionless, staring back. Then, as if some central switch had been tripped, the two swarmed across the room, their voices raised in a wordless keen. For a moment they were all arms and legs, scrambling up Smith, hugging her like a father. Now that the dam of their reserve was broken, their crying was loud—and the questions, too. Was there any news about Gokna and Viki and Jirlib and Brent? What would happen now? And they didn’t want to be by themselves.
After a few moments things settled down. Smith tilted her head at the children, and Unnerby wondered what was going through her mind. She still had two children. Whatever the bad luck or incompetence of this day, it was two other young children who were stolen instead of these. She raised a hand in Unnerby’s direction. “Hrunkner. I have a request. Find the Suabismes. Ask them… offer them my hospitality. If they would like to wait this out here at Hill House… I would be honored.”
They were high up, in some kind of vertical ventilator shaft.
“No, it’s not a ventilator shaft!” said Gokna. “Real ones have all sorts of extra piping and utility cabling.”
There was no rumble of ventilator fans, just the constant whistle of the wind from above. Viki concentrated on the view straight above her head. She could see a grilled window at the top, maybe fifty feet up. Daylight shone through, splashing this way and that down the metal walls of the shaft. Here at the bottom they were in twilight, but it was more than bright enough to see the sleep mats, the chemical toilet, the metal floor. Their prison got steadily warmer as the day progressed. Gokna was right. They’d done enough exploring back home to know how real utility cores looked. But what else could this be? “Look at all the patches.” She waved at the disks that were sloppily welded here and there on the walls. “Maybe this place was abandoned—no, maybe it’s still under construction!”
“Yeah,” said Jirlib. “All this work is fresh. They just tack-welded covers on the access holes, maybe an hour’s work.” Gokna nodded, not even trying to get the last word. So much had changed since this morning. Jirlib was no longer a distant, angry umpire to their disputes. He was under more pressure than ever before, and she knew how bitterly guilty he must feel. Along with Brent, he was the eldest—and he’d let this happen. But the pain didn’t show directly; Jirlib was more patient than ever before.
And when he spoke, his sisters listened. Even if you didn’t count that he was just about an adult, he was by far the smartest of all of them.
“In fact, I think I know exactly where we are.” He was interrupted by the babies, stirring in their perches on his back. Jirlib’s fur was just not deep enough to properly comfort, and he was already beginning to stink. Alequere and Birbop alternated between caterwauling demands for their parents and nerve-racking silence, when they pinched tight onto poor Jirlib’s back. It looked like they were returning to noise mode. Viki reached out, coaxing Alequere into her arms.
