'Did what had to be done.'
Rinaldi bent down and slipped his hand into the elf's armpits and started to drag him toward the ladder.
Hart knew she was lucky to be the first one to find Donahue. She bent over to check him out. He had been assigned to follow Sam and the priest and had run afoul of them. The signs were obvious. No one in the court would have run him into the wall, or if they had, they wouldn't have left him in one piece. Sam was trying to escape.
Donahue groaned. Hart straightened and stepped away from him, so that when he emptied his stomach, she was well clear. He started to roll over, but she whispered a spell. In his weakened state, he had little resistance and succumbed to the enforced sleep she pressed upon his mind. She tapped the hall's illusions, extending them, to cover the sprawled body. Stretching an existing illusion was something that she couldn't do anywhere, but the mana-rich environment of the palace allowed certain liberties to be taken. The mask was an imperfect job, but it might delay discovery of the sleeping Donahue for a few minutes.
She checked the passageway and found it still deserted. Sam had chosen his ambush site well. Sam and the priest certainly hadn't passed her, so they had to be somewhere ahead. She took a moment to set her ally spirit Aleph on overwatch, warning it to watch specifically for Sam. Then, she hurried down the corridor, trusting her mundane senses to warn her of non-magical problems.
She could do no more than pick archways at random, because there was no way to tell what path the fugitives had chosen. As she crossed a threshold and heard the distant whine of a helicopter engine, she guessed their destination and suspected she was too late. She ran.
She hit the clearing as the landing gear of the Ares Wyvern lifted from the pad. She could see Sam at the controls in the cockpit. He saw her, too, and smiled savagely.
Hart ducked back through the archway and pressed against the wall of the service passage. No alarms clamored. No one shouted to her. Sam had hijacked the helicopter successfully and she seemed to be the only one who knew. It was important that she not be seen here.
She didn't have much time before the Lady learned what had happened. Hart herself could tell Deigh, but she didn't know if the Lady would have her killed before or after they shot down the helicopter. When aroused, the Seelie Court could be every bit as ruthless as their less seemly cousins of the Unseelie Court. A violated parole and a stolen aircraft would certainly anger the Shidhe.
Hart had taken responsibility for Sam and the priest.
Their escape was her failure, her responsibility;
Sam moved down the aisle, checking faces. The craft swayed as it continued its taxi. Fringes on his jacket's arms brushed across the tops of the outer seats as he passed, occasionally flicking into the face of one of the seated passengers. No one complained.
Was Sanchez really on-board? The passenger manifest Dodger had boosted had said that he was. The man should have reacted to the code words, but he hadn't. Maybe he was scared, getting cold feet now that his escort away from cozy corporate security had arrived. Sam was annoyed. What did Sanchez have to be afraid of? His corporate exile would only be temporary. Mr. Johnson had a comfy hideyhole all ready, and in a week or two Sanchez would be back at work, safe and sound in his new corporate home.
Three rows from the forward bulkhead, Sam found Sanchez. He was staring fixedly ahead, sweating. The corporate's hands were rigidly gripping the arms of his seat. Sam spoke the man's name, but was ignored. Reaching out a hand to shake Sanchez, Sam was surprised when the man shrank away,
'Come on, Sanchez. We don't have time to fool around.'
Sanchez finally turned his head to look at Sam. The man's dark eyes stared, wide and full of terror. He swallowed convulsively before saying, 'Please. I have done nothing.'
Sam didn't know what to say.
'Frag it, Twist. If that's the suit, get him moving.' Jason moved up the aisle as he spoke. Reaching the perplexed Sam, he stretched an arm past and pulled Sanchez to his feet. 'Last thing we need is getting hosed cause the suit's gone limp.'
Jason shoved his gun muzzle under Sanchez's chin, forcing his head up. 'You don't jerk us. Comprende, chummer?'
'Please, senor. Do not shoot,' Sanchez pleaded.
' 'I do not know what you are talking about. I am only a technician. I am not a ahman. I have no access to secrets. I am nobody.'
'You'll be nothing but a corpse if you don't get your ass out of here.'
Sam reached out to touch Jason's arm but the samurai shifted, placing Sanchez between them. 'Jason, I think Settor Sanchez knows less about this run than we do.'
'I don't care what he knows. We're taking him out.'
Sam frowned. There was more going on here than they knew, and he didn't like what he was thinking. 'Otter, check outside. Dodger, anything moving on the air traffic grid?'
'Negative, Sir Twist,' the elf replied instantly. He must have been monitoring the conversation through Sam's microphone. When she ducked back in, Otter gave the same report.
So much for his first thought. 'Well, whatever the screwup is, it doesn't seem to be a trap. Still, we'd better buzz.'
Otter nodded and started to undog the cabin door. Fishface looked as blank as usual, but remained standing where he was, his eyes fixed on Jason. The Indian still gripped Sanchez.
'It stinks. It's got to be a trap and this pedro's a part of it.' Jason leaned into his gun, forcing Sanchez's head even further back. 'Ain't that right, pedro? Sure it is. You're too nervous. Don't like being the bait when the fish have teeth, do you? I don't like being fooled, pedro.'
'Chill it, Jason,' Sam snapped. 'You've got a gun in his throat. Of course he's nervous. Let's just get him out of here. The sooner we're gone, the better.' Jason slowly turned his mirror eyes on Sam. 'I say we smoke him. It'll be a lesson.'
He himself self will not accept that he has a shamanic calling. He clings desperately to his scientific view of the world.'
'Then he has abandoned investigations into his magic?'
'Quite the contrary. He struggles to learn. It's driving Lady Tsung crazy.'
Laverty actually looked surprised. 'Ms. Tsung is attempting to teach him?'
'Attempting is the right word. Were Sam not so stubborn, he'd see that he and Lady Tsung have incompatible magical orientations.'
'Given what you have said, his lack of vision now seems unsurprising. Try to bring him back.'
'He won't come. He wants to find his sister first.'
'Such loyalty is admirable. And very valuable. But do what you can to bring him here.'
With that, Laverty turned and left the library. Estios and Chatterjee followed. Teresa remained standing at the door, making no move to leave. Estios aborted his own exit, and they exchanged a few words, speaking too softly for Dodger to hear. After a few moments, Estios straightened and threw a hostile look in Dodger's direction. Dodger returned a smile, which only infuriated the elf even more. He said one last thing to Teresa before striding angrily through the doorway. Dodger was left alone in the room with Teresa. He waited and she made the first move, walking softly across the carpet to the desk where his cyberdeck lay. Dodger stood as she approached.
She reached a hand past him and took the chip that the machine had extruded. She weighed it in her hand and said, 'You seem very fond of this Samuel Verner.'
'I have told him that I will help him find his sister.'
'You've set yourself another task?'
'A noble quest. We have learned that she was sent to Yomi Island. 'Tis a foul place where the Japanese
send those unfortunate enough to be inflicted with metahuman genes. We would liberate her from such vile durance.'
'Once you would have gone charging in.' 'Yomi is not the sort of place where one could do that easily. There must be preparations. We will go when we are ready. First, we must gain information and credit because transportation, equipment, and muscle are not cheap. While we gather what we need, we hone our skills with shadowruns. Were Sam less fastidious about the runs, we would be further along.' She made a tentative motion, almost reaching out to touch him. 'You would have made a wonderful paladin.'
