Hal Colebatch - Man-Kzin Wars – XIV

“What do you want with them?” asked Nils into his com-link.

“Hostages. They are two of the most valuable beings on this planet. Can you imagine the consequences if their Sire were presented with their fried carcasses?”

“I can imagine what the kzin would do to you . And the human government wouldn’t stop them.”

“I saw you bury something when you came ashore. It may have been the bridge-recorder. I will trade it for the kits’ lives.”

“And what about our lives?”

“Killing you would not be useful to me.”

“I’m glad you have enough sense to see that.”

“I have a private island with a laboratory and autodocs. It is equipped with memory-editing facilities. Agree to have your memories of what has happened here wiped, and you will be returned to Munchen unharmed.”

Nils did not believe him for a second. But his head was buzzing. It was not the full tiger-headache of a telepath’s probe against resistance, but he recognized it. He thought at the telepath, “ Do you understand what has happened? Make a circle in the sand if you do. ”

The telepath made a circle.

“ Help us, and Chuut-Riit’s son will be under a life-debt to you. Use the Telepath’s Weapon. ”

The telepath injected himself with a spray he had concealed in a pocket of the vest-like garment he wore.

“What are you doing?” boomed von Höhenheim.

The telepath went limp. His eyes rolled up. He struck at the human’s pain centers with all his force.

The car jerked sideways in the air, suddenly out of control. Rarrgh made a mighty leap up onto the wing, his prosthetic arm smashing through one of the skin-fittings-a refuelling port. The car slewed further and came down hard. Rarrgh had pulled himself onto the wing or he would have been crushed beneath it. They dragged von Höhenheim out unconscious after closing down the engines. Stan’s people had video-recorded the entire episode. This included Tabitha racing to Rarrgh and pulling bits of wreckage off him and licking his face while mewing frantically; Orlando had been a poor second. When the footage was shown in Munchen, Karan and Vaemar watched it with enormous satisfaction: it certainly looked as if the female kit had bred true. With any reasonable luck, so would Arwen, although it would be years before they could be sure. And all the kits were safe.

“What do we do with the bastard?” Stan raged. “That business of trying to take a hostage and promising us a memory-wipe is as good as a confession! It’s gone out on television, and most of our audience want to know why he’s still alive.”

“Due process,” Nils answered phlegmatically. “He’s under house arrest, but the legal guys are still trying to formulate a charge. Threatening a couple of kzin kits doesn’t look enough, we have to get to motive. And he’s had the sense to say absolutely nothing. Or his lawyers have told him to stay silent.”

Stan pondered. “I think I know how to nail him,” he said at last. “There’s the emails from his sidekick, Deep Throat. It has to be Grün. He’s been hinting at enough to send them both down. It’s time he came good. Or bad, in this case.”

Von Höhenheim faced Grün. He had been allowed to return to his old office while wearing an anklet that told police where he was, and he had found Grün there waiting for him, and sitting in his chair.

“Good to see you, Senator,” Grün had said cockily. He stood and made way for von Höhenheim, with a little bob that was loaded with irony.

“And may I say how disappointed I am that you are under house arrest for trying to steal the records of the warship you were responsible for shooting down.”

“Bah. They have nothing on me that cannot be explained,” von Höhenheim snorted. “So I was planning to kidnap two kzin kittens. That was on the television, I saw it. The question is why? Do you doubt that a good lawyer will have a dozen explanations which redound to my credit? Oh, an illegality perhaps, but one a great many humans will have sympathy for when my lawyer explains my motives. And they don’t have any kzin on jury duty, so I expect to get a good deal of sympathy. And my lawyers have already ensured that I shall not have to go before a telepath; the argument advanced was that my well-known hostility to kzin would lead to not being able to trust the telepath’s findings. And the court bought it.”

“As long, of course, as there is no other evidence in your complicity in shooting a missile at the Valiant ?” Grün rubbed his hands together.

“Who could possibly provide it?” von Höhenheim asked. He looked narrowly at Grün.

“I could, Senator. And I would be willing to go before a telepath and have it confirm my honesty on the point. Unless, of course, I were to get some consideration, financial consideration. Rather a lot of it. You are a wealthy man, Senator. You did well out of the Occupation as a leader of the KzinDiener. Better than I by far. I would think that if you were to give me half of that wealth, it would certainly buy my silence.”

“So you think you can blackmail a von Höhenheim, you slimy runt? That is a mistake.” The senator drew his pistol and aimed it at the suddenly terrified Grün. “Say your prayers to whatever gods you bow before.”

Grün started to babble. “You must not threaten me, Senator, this is being re-”

The senator shot him between the eyes. The body was hurled backwards, arms and legs flung wide. Von Höhenheim considered. Getting rid of the body should not be impossible. The sound had not been loud, and the building was empty at this time. What was it the disgusting creature had said. “This is being…” Being what? Being recorded? No, it was not possible. He looked around frantically. He saw it. A camera stuck on the wall above the door. He aimed carefully, fired, and saw it explode into flame and a shower of sparks. He smiled grimly and looked around for a chair to stand on, so he could rip the thing down. He reached out for one sturdy enough to take his weight and started rolling Grün’s body out of the way with his foot.

That was when the phone made a ding sound. He hardly ever used the thing, where was it? The sound came from the corpse, and von Höhenheim found it in the top pocket, and looked at it. He had mail. With a heavy feeling in his stomach, he checked. There were six messages, all from different television news channels. He opened the first and read it with mounting horror.

“Thank you for your video. It will be checked out by an editor for possible use within the hour.”

Removing the anklet had been difficult, but he had been able to aim the gun carefully. However, the blast had burned his ankle. At least now he could walk without being traced by satellite, and he had some hours until it was light. Money. He must have money, as much as he could carry. The safe held more than that. He filled his pockets with gold coins and looked around. He had little time. Getting the anklet off would notify the police that it was no longer being worn, and at some point a computer-generated message would be sent to a human being, but with luck, not until the morning.

Von Höhenheim limped to the door, glanced once at the corpse with contempt, and went out. So, he was ruined. A video of him shooting a blackmailer was the end. But he would not give in without a fight. The world was big, and there were always opportunities for a man of resource. He would go east. There were towns out there now, he knew.

“My word, come in out of the rain; it’s a terrible night, not fit for man or beast.” The kindly old abbot held the door wide, and von Höhenheim dragged himself in. He was beyond exhausted. He’d been running on empty for a day now and his foot was burning in constant pain.