Mag Force - Hung Out Part 16

"They are, aren't they?" Raoul said.

He was dressed in white diaphanous garments that flowed around him, and was so incredibly beautiful, and looked so very hurt, and so little like the professional a.s.sa.s.sin and expert poisoner that he was according to his file, that Petronella found herself apologizing before she quite knew what she was doing.

"The trip was very tiring. And going through customs can be so stressfula""

"Very well, my dear," Raoul said, coming closer to her and enveloping her in a breathless wave of gardenia perfume, "I forgive you." He kissed the air near her cheek and drifted off. "Anyone else want a flamingo?"

Everyone a.s.sured him that they did, which appeared to gratify Raoul immensely and put him in an excellent humor. Darlene introduced the other members of the team, laying emphasis on the word.

Petronella knew them from their files. Jamil Khizr, the ex-Army officer and far more good-looking than even his file photo.

"Petronella," he said, with a charming smile. "Do they call you Pet?"

"Only once," she a.s.sured him.

Dr. William Quong, who bowed politely, then asked if it was true she was a Talisian.

"I've done a cursory study on your people and I have a few questionsa""

"Not now, Doc," Darlene said.

The last person was a small figure enveloped in a raincoat and fedora, who peered up at Petronella from beneath the brim of his hat with a pair of exceedingly bright and intelligent eyes. This was the telepath. Petronella didn't have to worry about him, her, or ita"the file didn't offer much information on the personage known only as the Little Onea"because whatever it was about Talisians that caused the strange energy fluxes also scrambled their brain waves, making it impossible for telepaths to read them.

"We're expecting one more team member," Darlene said. "Harry Luck. In fact"a"the Mozart concerto was playing againa""that may be him now."

"I'll answer the door, Hoskins!" Raoul could be heard calling. "You refill the ice bucket."

"Very good, sir," was the butler's response.

The next moment, a piercing shriek cut through the air. The shriek rose to a high-pitched wail, ending in a strangled gurgle.

Jamil's lasgun appeared in his hand with a rapidity that impressed Petronella, who was still reaching for hers.

"Keep her here, Darlene," Jamil ordered. "Maybe she brought friends. Doc, you're with me."

The two ran for the house, stopped short at the sight of Raoul staggering through the French doors. His hands covered his eyes, as though he'd been blinded by a disabler. Giving a moan, he collapsed at their feet. Petronella took a step forward, only to feel a lasgun pressed against her side.

Darlene smiled at her apologetically. "I think you should stay here with me, Agent Rizzoli. Hand me your gun, will you?"

Petronella handed it over.

"What's the matter with him, Doc?" Jamil asked, beading over the prostrate bundle of white. "Has he been shot?"

"No. He has merely fainted. He has received a severe shock of some sort."

Hoskins, the butler, appeared in the doorway. He was as pale as was considered fas.h.i.+onable and trembling in every limb.

"What is it, Hoskins?" Jamil demanded. "What's happened."

"Oh, sir!" Hoskins said faintly. "It ... it's coming this way...."

A large blond man dressed in a polyester suit that was much too small for his portly figure crashed through the French doors. He had his lasgun drawn and was looking around wildly. "What's the matter? Are we under attack?"

Harry Luck, according to his file.

Jamil looked at Harry, especially at Harry's suit. Sighing, Jamil holstered his weapon.

Dr. Quong also looked at Harry. "Ah, now I understand." Quong lifted Raoul gently in his arms. "Where can I put him?"

"In his bedroom. Where he can see his wardrobe on awakening. The master always finds that soothing. I will show you, sir," said Hoskins, delicately raising a hand to s.h.i.+eld Harry from his view.

"It's all right, Hoskins," Quong said. "I know the way. You don't look too well yourself. Perhaps you should go lie down."

"I think, sir, under the circ.u.mstances," said the shaken butler faintly, "if you are quite certain that the master will be all right, I will retire to my quarters for a brief restorative."

"Put the gun away, Harry," Jamil said in exasperation. "We're not being attacked. It's your suit. Come out here on the patio where you can't hurt any innocent bystanders. Where did you buy that thing, anyway? Murphy's House of a Thousand Suits?"

"Yeah, I did!" Harry was impressed. "How'd you know that? There was an outlet right next to my motel. Murphy's offers a real bargain. You get two pairs of pants with the jacket. Your choice. I picked these out myself. The salesmen said the plaids didn't match and the colors clashed, but I think they look fine." Harry gazed down at himself admiringly. "I could take you there, Jamil, if you're interested. This suit attracts a lot of attention."

"I'll bet that's true," Jamil said. "Let me hazard a wild guessa"you didn't wear that through customs, did you?"

"No. I didn't want it to get wrinkled on the s.h.i.+p. I changed in the men's room."

"You walked through the s.p.a.ceport wearing it?"

"Sure, Jamil. You have to walk through the s.p.a.ceport if you're going to get to the rental agencies. What's the problem? Oh, I get it. You think I was followed. I wasn't. I kept a lookout."

Jamil sighed. "Hoskins! There you are."

The butler was tottering by with a large snifter of brandy in his hand. "Yes, sir?"

"Just check with the police, will you? See if they've put out an arrest warrant for Harry yet? If they have, tell them we have the suspect in custody and we'll deal with the matter."

"Yes, sir. May I say, sira"the sooner, the better." Hoskins continued on his way, adding pointedly, "Garbage pickup is every Tuesday."

"Sorry about that, Agent Rizzoli," said Darlene, returning her lasgun to the holster she wore at the small of her back. "This is Harry Luck, one of the best pilots in the galaxy."

"Aw, I'm not that good," Harry said modestly, his face flus.h.i.+ng. He was a big man and might have been handsome, but for the tiny frown line in the center of his forehead, as if he were continually perplexed by life in general, and his cheerful grin which said that he'd given the matter a lot of thought and declined to accept responsibility.

Blinking in the sunlight, he peered at Petronella. "Who's your friend, Darlene? You know, it's funny, but I think I've seen her before." Suddenly his expression hardened, darkened. "Hey, do you know who that is?"

"Yes, Harrya"" Jamil began.

"That's the b.i.t.c.h who arrested Xris! What the h.e.l.l is she doing here?"

"Harrya"" Darlene tried to explain.

"Oh, I get it!" Harry relaxed; the grin was back. "We're holding her hostage." He rubbed his hands. "That's great! When do they release Xris?"

"Hostage!" Petronella exclaimed. "Listen to me! If you think that for one momenta""

"He didn't mean it!" Jamil a.s.sured her. "The fumes from the polyester must have affected his brain. We're not taking you hostage. You can leave now, if you want to."

"And I must admit I wouldn't blame you," Darlene added with a wry smile. "You haven't exactly seen us at our best. We don't intend to harm you in any way. In fact, we have some information that will be of interest to you. Please, won't you sit down? Oh, and here's your gun back."

Petronella accepted the gun. According to the files, the team was a strange bunch, but they'd pulled off some pretty impressive feats, such as rescuing a group of humans being held hostage by the Corasians, and saving His Majesty the King from an a.s.sa.s.sin. There was the rumor that they had even managed to break into a top-secret, heavily guarded Navy base, but that was unconfirmed.

"What information?" Petronella said, thinking it wise to maintain the appearance of suspicion.

"My name is Darlene Mohini now. But, in a former life, I was Dalin Rowan."

Petronella did her best to look astonished. She wasn't supposed to know this, after all. "But... Dalin Rowan ... is ... was a man. And anyhow, he is dead. Was dead."

"It's a long story. I think you better sit down, Agent Rizzoli. I'll try to explain everything."

"Just in case anyone cares," Harry Luck interrupted, glowering, "Xris got twenty years on Sandusky's Rock."

"Yes, Harry, we know. Parker called us," Jamil said.

"And you're all sitting here drinking lemonade! With her!" Harry glared at Petronella.

"Take a seat, Harry." Darlene's voice was crisp, whip-like, and Harry, though red in the face, meekly obeyed, looking like a recalcitrant lion being put through his paces by his trainer. "I'm trying to explain."

But before she could start, Mozart was playing once again.

"What now?" Darlene demanded, exasperated.

"Maybe it's the cops coming to arrest Harry," Jamil said. "I'll take care of it." He pointed a dictatorial finger. "Mr. Luck, you stay here, out of sight!"

Harry sat down, plainly unhappy. Darlene fidgeted, drumming her fingers on the table and glancing often in the direction Jamil had taken.

Petronella caught herself staring at Darlene, trying to see if she could detect any male featuresa"Adam's apple, rough-cut chin. Realizing that this was simply voyeuristic curiosity and had nothing whatsoever to do with her job, she s.h.i.+fted her gaze to two swans circling an ornamental pond.

"How is Xris, Harry?" Darlene asked, either trying to fill the awkward silence or perhaps elicit Petronella's sympathy. "Did you see him before you left? Did you have a chance to talk to him?"

"I tried." Harry sulked in the shade of the umbrella. "But they wouldn't let me. You should have seen him at the trial, Darlene," he added abruptly, glaring again at Petronella, who suddenly felt unaccountably guilty. They were using the cyborg, after all. Tampambulos was nothing but bait to lure Amadi into Robison's trap.

"Xris looked real bad. He had to use a crutch to walk. They wouldn't even let him put on his hand."

"He is a murderer," Petronella said loftily.

"Not if I'm the one he murdered," Darlene said dryly.

"That's true," Petronella conceded, looking confused. "If what you say is true. And if it is true, then why didn't he tell someone? Why would he let himself get locked up for a crime he didn't commit?"

"That's part of what I have to tell you. You seea""

Jamil emerged from the house carrying a tray of drinks.

"Well, was it the cops?" Darlene asked. "Perhaps Harry can plead temporary insanity."

"Very funny," Harry growled.

"Naw, it was the pool cleaner. I couldn't find Hoskins, so I told the guy to go ahead. Here, I fixed iced tea."

"Iced tea," Harry said gloomily, staring into his gla.s.s. "Xris is probably chopping away at ice now himself. And none of you give a d.a.m.n."

The pool cleaner walked by, carrying his equipment with him in a bag. He wished them good afternoon and sauntered across the patio toward the pool. He was wearing swimming trunks and a white T-s.h.i.+rt that accentuated his golden tan and showed off his well-developed muscles. Like everyone else on Adonia, he was gorgeous. Petronella allowed herself a moment to admire the view before returning to work.

Darlene clasped her hands on the table, was looking at Petronella earnestly. "I know this is going to be hard for you to believe, Agent Rizzoli, but Xris and I are convinced that our former boss, your current boss, Jafar el Amadi, is a traitor. We believe that he is working for the Hung and has been working for them for years."

Good G.o.d! Whatever Petronella had been expecting Rowan to say, it wasn't this! She was caught off guard, didn't know how she should react. Fortunately, her stunned expression could be taken for shock at the information.

"You're right," she said at last. "I don't believe it."

"Then why did you come here?" Darlene smiled. "One of the answers to the daily quiz was, 'Aa"traitor.' Don't tell me that Amadi didn't cross your mind."

Petronella was noncommittal. "I'll listen to what you have to say."

"Fair enough." Darlene leaned back, made herself comfortable. "Here's the story."

Half an hour later, Darlene was describing to Petronella how Dalin Rowan had found Xris and what was left of Mashahiro Ito in the burning ruins of the Hung ammunitions factory. She went on to explain how Armstrong had tried to kill her in the shuttle and told how Amadi had ordered her to keep quiet about the entire affair, how all the records had disappeared.

Petronella listened in silence. Everything tallied exactly with what she already knew. Darlene told her story calmly, but with pain in the eyes that were watching her past rewind. Petronella could hear the anguish in Darlene's voice and she could see, through those pain-shadowed eyes, the blood-covered, mangled body of Xris in the wreckage of the factory, could see the bits of charred flesh that were all they ever found of Ito. Anger stirred in Petronella again, just as it had when she'd first read the file.

But she couldn't let them see that she believed them. Not yet.

Darlene interrupted her story for a long swallow of iced tea. Petronella discovered that she was stiff from sitting so long in once place without moving. She sat back in the shade and sipped at her tea, which had gone tepid.

Dr. Quong emerged from the house, in company with the Little One.

Jamil looked around. "How's Raoul, Doc?"

"He has suffered a severe shock. I trust there will be no damage to the central nervous system, but at this point it's too early to tell."

"You're kidding, right?"

"He is an Adonian. What more can I say? I've given him a sedative. Now, my friend." The doctor reached for Harry's wrist to take his pulse. "You look terrible. What's the matter with you, beyond a deplorable lack of fas.h.i.+on sense?"

"I've just come from Xris's sentencing," Harry said, his voice high-pitched and strained. "They've given Xris twenty years. On Sandusky's Rock. Hea""

The Little One suddenly lifted his head and twisted around to gaze in the direction of the swimming pool. Turning back, he reached out and grabbed hold of Darlene's arm. He made a stabbing gesture with his stubby finger.

"That? It's the pool cleaner," said Darlene.

The Little One shook his head with such violence that the fedora fell down over one eye.

Darlene looked at Jamil, who looked at Quong.