Jayne toed the knife and whetstone lying in the dirt beside the fire, where the man had apparently been sharpening his tool. It was a ten-inch Bowie, long enough to run a man clean through. "You got a gun, you better pass it over, real slow."
The man eyed the five intruders pointing an assortment of pistols and rifles in his face. "It's in my pack."
The pack he had been looking towards, when some animal instinct had warned him of danger. "Smart of ya ta drop the blade."
"Guess we'll see about that." The man's voice was deep and growling, very like Jayne's.
"Down on your knees, fingers laced on your head."
Unseen behind him, the girl keened. "Quiet," the man said gently. He did as he was told, dropping his knees to the dirt, and the girl behind him was revealed. She let go of the back of the man's shirt and grasped the tree behind her, staring fearfully at the men all around.
"Easy, girl," Jayne said. "You Amadine Ames?"
"She doesn't talk," the man on his knees said. "Screams some, but she never says a word."
"Bastard!" Garrod stepped forward, rifle reversed, and drove the butt into the man's neck, knocking him over. "What did you do to her!"
"She was like that when I found her!" The man drew his legs up and covered his head.
The prospector raised his rifle again, but Jayne grabbed his arm. "Where?" He asked the man on the ground.
"There's a creek off to the west, couple day's travel. She come tearin through the woods like the Devil was after her, right into my camp. I don't think she even realized. Nearly fell into the fire."
"Sit up. Hands back on your head."
Simon shrugged out of his pack and set it at his feet. From under the top flap, he pulled a length of rope cut from the coil Jayne had taken from the camp and handed it to Dell. The boy glanced from Jayne to his father, and both men nodded: the sooner this man was secured, the less likely he was to be shot by het-up men with guns in his face. He rested his rifle against a nearby tree and bound the man's hands behind him. When the boy stepped back and their captive was settled again, Jayne holstered his weapon and said, "Where were you takin her?"
"There's a mining camp, a few miles on the other side of this ridge. Probably got a wave set, maybe a doctor."
"There's a logger's camp just a day's walk southwest of where you were at," Jayne said. "Why didn't you go there?" We know you worked there, jiba. Tell us you didn't know it was there, and we'll shoot you where you sit.
The man said, "Because that's the direction she was running from. I've worked those camps, and some of the men there are rough ga ni niangs. I never seen any little kids there, or anything really shady. But I keep mostly to myself. Could be a lot goin on there I don't know about. I wasn't about to risk giving her back to whoever had her before."
"Every hundan ever got caught with something didn't belong to him claimed he found it," Garrod said; unlike his father, Simon, and Jayne, he hadn't put away his gun. "Look at him. He matches Kaylee's description perfect."
"Wasn't much of a description," Jayne rejoined. "Half the drifters out here in the Wood probly match it."
The prospector turned hot eyes to Jayne. "You takin his side in this?"
"This ain't about sides," Jayne said. "I'm just talkin, that's all."
Dell said to the man, "You got any proof?" He reached for the man's pack.
"What kind of proof could I give you? A note from the real kidnapper?" He looked up at Garrod. "Ain't enough proof in the world to convince a man whose mind is made up hard enough."
Garrod said, voice low, "How'd you know she was kidnapped, you been out in the woods all this time?"
"Because you just told me. And what are you all out here for, if you're not looking for her? And the way she was runnin? She got away from somebody who was keeping her against her will. It's the only way it adds up."
During this exchange, Simon had pulled his medical kit from his pack. He approached the girl with his stethoscope, but she shrank away, slapping at him before he was close enough to reach. The doctor stilled at the terror in her eyes.
Royce said, "Who are you, and what are you doing out here then?"
"My name's Eddin Burdon, and I'm a rutting hermit," the man said. "I've lived out in the Wood for half my life. I got camps scattered about, and I go from one to another. When I feel a need for produce or a new pair of boots, I find work at a camp, mining or logging. When I can't stand the sight of people any more, I quit and go back into the hills."
Jayne gave the man a good looking-over. He was about Jayne's size, possibly a bit beefier. Unremarkable clothing, not different from their own. Hair uncombed but not particularly dirty. Clean-shaven – how did he manage that so far from fresh water? Jayne's beard was just coming back from stubble to softness, him having made full use of the hot water at the logger's camp; Simon and Dell's faces were dark from the down that grew on them naturally when they were unacquainted with a razor. But Royce and Garrod's beards were full and thick, though their faces had been clean when they'd started their little expedition, testament to the difficulty of keeping properly groomed out in the wild. This man's 'camps' were likely more homelike than a branch-and-blanket lean-to, he thought.
"These 'camps,'" Garrod said, his voice dangerously quiet. "One of em a shack at the bottom of a crater?"
"I heard about that place, and what happened there," Burdon said. "But I never been there. I told you, I keep clear of places where there's people, unless I can find work there." He added, "Hell, that kinda hiu is one reason to stay away from other human beings."
Dell had been rummaging through Burdon's pack, laying items on the unrolled sleeping blanket: an old revolver not unlike Mal's; clothing, a towel and washcloth; eating and cooking supplies, including a big canteen and a number of steel canisters with screw-on lids. Various small tools and toiletries, and a few cheaply-bound books. No captures, nothing to write with. Not looking at anyone, Dell observed, "Just the one bedroll."
Burdon scowled; his voice rose. "She didn't bring her own, and I'm not in the habit of carrying spares in case a friend drops in. Been pretty cold of nights. What was I s'posed to do, sleep in the dirt? Or let her? Gor, look at her. What kinda man could do what you're thinkin?"
"The kind we've been looking for," said Royce. "And I'm far from convinced we ain't found him." To Simon he said, "You're a doctor. Can't you examine her, find out what he's done to her?"
"I packed my bag for first aid, not forensics," Simon said. "An examination would tell me if she's been abused, but not by whom, or how long ago with any accuracy. Besides..." He looked deliberately at the girl, still pressed against the tree, her panicked stare swinging from one of them to the other. "How do you suggest we get her to submit to an examination? Sedate her? Or tie her up?"
Jayne thought of the day Simon had given River her second dose of Badger's meds, the one that had turned her into a trapped animal. It had taken three grown men to get the screaming, thrashing girl on the exam table and strap her down. He imagined this little girl, who'd already gone through Gor knew what, held down by four men gripping her wrists and ankles while a fifth one approached her with a syringe… He unclenched his jaw. "Not gonna happen, less you really need to look her over."
"She seems healthy and uninjured, and she's been eating," Simon said, putting away his stethoscope. "Anything I can do for her here can wait until she's at a real medical facility."
Jayne shook his head. Who'd have thought there'd be any doubts they had the right man? He wished mightily for a capture of the hundan they'd come after. River might have come up with a sketch from Kaylee's description, if he'd only thought of it…
No. He shook his head again. The gan ni niang who'd stolen ten-year-old Kaylee and her teenage sister had kept them in Hell for two months. He'd forced the little girl to submit to all manner of degrading acts and threatened her life every day; the sister he'd raped and brutalized, beat near to death and stole her mind. Whatever image of him filled the little mechanic's imagination wouldn't likely make a useful sketch.
"What's wrong with her?" Royce asked quietly. "Why don't she talk?"
"Well, to be as objective as possible about it, she may be mute. Did Mr. Ames tell us anything to contradict that?"
Jayne said, "Seems like something he'd think to mention, if she was dumb or moonbrained."
"Agreed." Simon glanced at the girl, still frozen behind the bound and sitting man. "I don't want to discuss this in front of her. Or him."
"We got some other stuff to talk over too." Jayne drew his pistol again. "Dell, tie his wrists behind a tree. Make sure the knots are good and tight and hard to reach. Then you and Garrod, go back down the trail and fetch the packs. We're gonna be here a spell."
Garrod said, "We're not going back?"
"That minin camp is a better place to head, if it's where he says."
"If."
"Well, he was headed somewhere, and there's nothin on the map. Top of the ridge ain't that much farther on. If he's tellin the truth, we'll see it."
"Just cause the camp's there don't mean he was telling the truth." But he gathered his brother by eye and headed down the trail.
"All right," Royce said as they disappeared around the bend. "Now you've got the boys out of here, what do you want to say?"
Jayne glanced around the campsite. It was larger than most clearings on the trail, and irregular in shape: at one end was a small area screened from the rest by a low bump in the ground and a bitty stand of trees. He moved that way, and the others followed.
"I have some possibilities to offer about her condition, and the man she's with," Simon said. "But they're purely speculative. I didn't want to add fuel to the fire." He turned to Jayne. "When you warned me we might not be coming back with this man if we found him, I thought you meant you didn't think you could take him alive, not that I'd be a witness to a lynching."
"That's just what I meant. I figured once we found him, he'd fight or run." He glanced in the direction of their unseen captive. "If he's lyin, why's she stickin so close to him?"
"If he's telling the truth, why's she sticking so close to him?" Royce nodded in the same direction. "You see how she is with us. How did he win her trust?" He turned back to Simon.
"Well, just to start, let's assume he's telling the truth." At Royce's nod, he went on, "If he decided to find her help right away, he's had her no more than a week. I don't think we need to dwell on what may have happened to her in the weeks prior, but it was sure to bind her tightly to someone who offered her comfort and rescue. His misanthropy would be sure to transfer to her in the week they were alone together. And we didn't exactly make a sterling first impression, attacking the man who helped her – it would just reinforce what he's probably been telling her."
"That's pretty good," Royce said. "Bet if you was his lawyer, you could prolly get him off." His tone of voice made clear he wasn't offering a compliment.
"It's only one explanation," the doctor said. "There are others that aren't favorable to him at all." Simon glanced at the trail, though the bend where Burdon sat was out of sight from where they stood. "At Medacad, I took some psych courses. They were required, even though they seemed rather far from my chosen specialty. But one of those courses addressed abnormal and abusive dependent relationships, and I learned things that run counter to everything you might assume. Children sometimes bond tightly to abusive parents, convinced that the abuse is their own fault and determined to be 'good' kids so their parents will love them enough to stop. Hostages and kidnap victims who interact with their captors will sometimes come to identify and sympathize with them, even to the point of resisting their rescuers. It's common enough that it even has a name: 'Stockholm Syndrome,' though I have no idea where it came from – possibly from the name of the first person to identify it."
And the Reavers didn't have any trouble converting that fellow we picked up to their particular insanity, Jayne thought. But he didn't say that aloud; New Home was a quiet world far from the wild parts of the 'Verse, and had never suffered a raid or seen the death worshippers' handiwork. Jayne knew that most such folk were convinced that Reavers were just scary stories, and wouldn't have their minds changed till they'd seen them up close and personal. For sure, he hadn't.
"He's only had her a month. Do you think-" Royce stopped and shook his head. "'Only a month.' Listen to me."
"If this man is who we suspect," Simon said, "he only needed two months to break Willamina Frye so thoroughly that she was still completely under his influence a year after she last saw him." He glanced again in the direction of Amadine and the bound man, hidden behind the trees. "And I think Kaylee will be looking over her shoulder for him for the rest of her life." Simon's fiancée had been about Amadine's age when she had been taken; would this child bear her captor's mark forever as well?
He went on, "Prolonged isolation is ideal for this sort of behavioral modification. Kaylee and Mina had each other, and their kidnapper was gone much of the time. But Amy may have spent the last month entirely alone with the man who took her, as his prisoner and his dependent." Simon unzipped his bag, glanced unseeing at its contents, and zipped it shut again. "There's a certain technique to it. The abuse doesn't have to be physical. He threatens to kill them, then grants a reprieve. He makes them afraid, then offers them comfort. He gives them hope and takes it away. It's all done to attune their emotional and mental state to his, until they can't think or feel for themselves, until they're emotionally as well as physically dependent on him."
Royce's face stiffened. "Then what the hell are we doing leaving them alone?" He stepped between them, headed back to the main clearing with Jayne and Simon right behind. They rounded the little wooded spur, and the elder Henson said, "Zao gao."
Burdon sat against the tree with his arms stretched back behind it, his body wider than the trunk he was bound to, looking at them. The girl was gone. The look on Burdon's face told Jayne he wouldn't be forthcoming about her whereabouts. Feeling a dark suspicion, he trotted toward the captive man, and watched Burdon stiffen. The back of the tree came into view. The girl was working at the knots. She saw him and doubled her efforts, clawing at the rope.
Jayne barely stopped himself from backhanding her out of the way. Instead he gave her a shove that sent her sprawling. Burdon jerked forward, but the ropes held. The girl scuttled away, to be caught by Royce and Simon. The look on her face was piteous.
He couldn't stop himself. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" He shouted, and instantly regretted it as the child cringed, looking ready to piss herself. He took a deep breath and redid the ropes, pulling the knots so tight it would likely take a knife to free the man. Quietly he said, "Just don't come near him again." To Simon he said, "Stay close to her."
"I'll watch her," Royce offered. Her wrist was still in his fist, and she looked like her legs were about to buckle.
"How much practice you got dealin with kids?" He nodded toward the doctor. "This fella had a little girl name her hamster after him once. And he's a doc, they know how to talk to people."
"I really don't," Simon said quietly, "But I'll stay with her." He put a hand between her trembling shoulders and guided her to the other side of the clearing, as far from the bound man as possible while keeping them all in sight.
Dell and Garrod rounded the trail, loaded down with five packs: their own, their father's, and Jayne's double burden. They had the look of men who had done some talking and had something on their minds. They eyeballed Burdon as they dropped their packs. Dell said to Simon, standing over the girl, "She comin around any?"
"I'd say not."
Garrod nodded toward the bound man. "Time we decided how we're gonna deal with him."
"Not now," said Simon, with a glance at Amadine, huddled against a tree and watching them with prey animal's eyes.
"What, you think a ten-year-old's too young to understand justice?" The elder brother's voice rose. "After what he's done to her, you don't think she wants to see the one who did it dead?"
"That's enough," said their father. "We're gonna talk this out. But that's the last I want to hear about killin in front of the child."
"If the mining camp is where he says," said Simon, "it not only supports his story, it means we can turn him-"
Royce held up a hand. "If it's there, and I'll bet it is, it's not proof of anything. Even if he was headed there, he might have meant to leave her nearby while he went to gather news."
"And it's a capital case," Garrod said, "that means he won't be tried local. Do you really think giving him to the Alliance courts is the right thing to do?" Garrod locked eyes with the doctor. "You trust the Alliance to do the right thing?"
"I don't," Dell said. "The Core's got no death penalty. They don't care how many folk die of sickness or hunger out on the Rim, but they won't end a man who's been …" His voice trailed off at a warning look from his father and his nod toward the seated girl. "They won't give it no more interest than a shoplifting case – it's a crime happened out in the sticks, right? Even the prosecutor won't really care what happens to him. The judge'll go for the quick and easy, a long sentence to gull the prairie dogs, but with a generous parole provision for the defense lawyer. They'll put that umhuo in a hotel room with soft lights and three squares while they send him to classes, teachin him the errors of his ways."
The boy swept an arm toward the bound man, glaring at Jayne. "You said it yourself. He can make anybody think he's harmless. He'll learn the right things to say, and the right things to do, and he'll convince them he's rehabilitated. And those shaguas are so sure they can fix anything, they'll buy it and turn him loose, and the first chance he gets he'll drop off the grid. And pretty soon, some other man's kid will go missin."
Jayne spoke quietly. "Everything we know about the man tied to that tree don't add up to proof. We don't-"
"Proof?" Garrod's nostrils flared. "We had all the proof we needed, first time we looked him in the eyes." Dell nodded vigorously; Royce's eyelids drooped, a more reserved assent.
Jayne said, "I told ya, you can't tell if a man's a killer just by lookin in his ruttin eyes. He-"
"No." Garrod almost shouted. "Look. At his rutting eyes."
Jayne looked. Burdon looked pretty collected, he thought, for a man tied to a tree listening to people argue over whether he should live or die. There was nothing strange about his eyes, of course. A small scar bisected the brow above the left one, but there was no tale of the Woodsman to match that up against. He…
…
Burdon's eyes were green. Not the bright green of the ones Will Frye looked out on the world with, but another forty years lived mostly out of doors would likely fade them to the hue of their prisoner's. "What color were Willamina's eyes?" The girl had been a redhead, maybe she…
"Blue," Garrod said. "Cornflower blue. Beautiful, when they weren't staring at nothing, or darting all over." He went on, "This man is the one who did all those girls. Since we found Mina, I been wondering how many of the others were pregnant. Maybe that was how he decided when to put each of them under a rockpile and go looking for fresh. And maybe she knew that, in what was left of her mind, and it's why she was always afraid of her own child instead of loving him." He looked at Burdon with eyes that held no doubt or pity. "He put a knife in my brother and kicked him over a cliff. I'm not turnin him over to anybody."
"We're all still hot from the chase," Jayne said. "Things might look different after a night's sleep."
"No, they won't."
"Mebbe not. But after so long, what's another night? And if he really is the one, he'll have at least one sleepless night over what he done."
"Or a night to get away."
"Won't happen. We'll watch him. Take turns. You first." Jayne looked at Dell. "And you next. Keep a close eye." He intended that he and Simon would take their shifts in the hours from sunset till dawn; he had no intention of leaving the brothers alone with their captive while everyone else was asleep. "And we watch the girl too."
They moved Burdon to a tree in the little side clearing, tying him even more securely than before; Jayne thought that it would be a good thing not to be looking at him all the time. Royce watched him. The girl they kept with them as they made camp. The brothers, after a few unsuccessful attempts to get Amadine to talk, left her to Simon.
"Are you hungry?" He asked her. "The big man has gone hunting, but I can come up with something if you want something now." When she failed to respond, he asked, "Are you thirsty?" Still nothing. He tried again. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" The nearest 'bathroom' was likely a privy in the miners' camp, but he couldn't think of another term.
She met his eyes finally, and stood, gazing into the woods. Simon's moment of faint elation faded. "I'm coming with you. Please don't run. We'd be sure to catch you, and chasing you down would only add to the tension around here." He turned and called to the brothers tending the fire, "Nature call. We'll be back."
They moved off through the trees until the clearing was nearly out of sight. Simon said, "Far enough." He locked eyes with the silent girl. "Against my better judgment, I'm going to turn my back. I'll count back from ten, slowly. If you need more time, you'll have to tell me before I reach zero." Surely she could manage a one-word signal, or at least a grunt.
He turned. "Ten." Simon counted back, taking a few breaths between each number, feeling his heart sink with every one he told off. "Zero," he said finally. He turned. She was gone.
But the branch she had brushed aside was still swaying, and he could see her running through the trees. He gave chase, cursing his ill-fitting shoes, and caught up with her after a few minutes. He snatched her off her feet, still running. She turned in his arms and kicked and pushed at him and thrashed, butting her head into his face in her frenzy, until he pinned her arms. "I'm sorry," he said over and over. "I don't want to hurt you, please just stop." Eventually she stilled, both of them panting. The girl shuddered in his arms, and Simon felt a drop of moisture on his neck.
He dropped to his knees, still holding her. "I know you're afraid. But we're only here to help." He loosened his grip a tiny amount, still pressing them together. "We've been searching for you almost since you disappeared. We heard you were taken by a bad man, a man who steals children and hurts them. I know a girl who was taken by him, before you were even born. He frightened her and told her things that weren't true, until she didn't know what was true anymore, and she was frightened all the time…"
Amy stared silently at him. Then, slowly, her hand squirmed up between them, came free, and brushed at his cheek.
Simon took a deep breath, released her, and took her hand. He turned back towards the clearing. "Let's go back, before the others get worried."
Supper was a simple affair: four fresh-killed rabbits and various staples from their and Burdon's supplies. The girl refused to eat until Burdon did. With Garrod aiming a pistol at the prisoner's forehead, Jayne bound his legs at ankle and knee, then cut the rope holding his arms behind the tree with the man's own knife, whose sheath Jayne now kept clipped to his left hip. The elder brother's weapon never wavered as the big man ate his portion and handed his tools back. After Jayne rebound his wrists behind the tree, he reached for the knee bindings.
"Leave em," Garrod said, gun still out and pointed.
"You leave em on, he won't be able ta feel his legs twenny minutes from now."
"Won't run then, will he?"
The big merc gave him a dark look, then used Burdon's knife to sever the knee bindings. But he left the lashings on his ankles. The prisoner grunted and drew up his legs to sit Indian style against the tree.
Jayne beckoned the older Henson brother out of earshot of the bound man. "When I was huntin, I took a look on the other side of the ridge. There's another ridge less'n ten miles on, wooded like this one. I didn't hear nothin, but there's a place on the opposite slope that's hard to make out, like the air's all blurry. I'm thinkin it's dust."
"Ayuh." Garrod bent closer, though there was no one near. "That girl should get returned to her family as quick as possible, don't you think? If the rest of us aren't ready at first light, I think you and Simon should head off that way with her. We'll meet up at the mining camp."
"With the fella tied to the tree?"
"Sure." The man's eyes were flat. "You don't want to take him with you. He'd just slow you down."
-0-
"I don't like it." Jayne carefully guided the edge of the big knife along the whetstone in slow, even strokes. "It's all too thin. I been tried on better evidence than this. And acquitted."
Anger pushed the words out of Simon's mouth unthinking. "Did you deserve to be?"
The big merc didn't look up, but the knife paused on the stone. "I was tried for the rape an murder of a sixteen-year-old girl. You wanna ask that question again?"
"No." He swallowed. "I'm sorry."
"You sure?" The sharpening process continued. "She was a town girl. They found her up in the hills, a place she had no business bein, not fifty yards from my camp. Witnesses saw me in town talkin to her regular, the last time not half a day before she went missin. They caught me three towns away, tryin ta hitch a ride to the port without even a sack over my shoulder. And I had her prize pretty in my pocket, a necklace she never took off." The knife stopped, and Jayne raised it to examine the edge. "And a knife with her blood on it. Think that'd be enough ta put a rope around my neck?"
-0-
Sister Nan came out of Lu Jian's bathroom with a soft, calf-length robe. She tossed it onto Lu's bed into the lap of his frightened bedmate, who lay cowering with the sheets pulled up to her collarbones. "Cover yourself, child. Go with this man into the next room and be quiet."
Lu sat up, placing his back against the headboard; the sheet dropped to his waist, revealing a hairless and rather doughy torso. "What's the meaning of this?" He demanded. "Who are you, and what do you think you're doing here?"
The man was trying hard, Nan thought, but it must be difficult to project authority after being awakened naked in the middle of the night by armed strangers. She said, "You already know who we are and what we want."
Lu looked from one to the other of the three people surrounding his bed: late-middle-aged, darkly clothed, and all wearing their hair in topknots high on the backs of their heads. He swallowed and said, "You have no authority here. You-"
One of the monks raised his laser pistol and fired. Lu screeched and nearly levitated out of the bed as the bedsheet between his legs burst into flame.
"Someone should put that out," Nan observed. Her nose wrinkled. "Never mind, the Minister has taken care of it for us."
"You shot me," Lu said wonderingly. Then, more firmly, "You shot me."
Nan reached for the sheet and yanked it down. Brother Morris's shooting was as good as ever, she observed: he had put the pulse into the mattress between Lu's thighs just south of the man's privates, which were now tucked nearly into his abdomen. Rather like a rat's, she thought. "He did. Going to leave some burn scars, too. The next one will make a hole, or take something off. Nice thing about laser weapons, they cauterize their own wounds. If you're careful not to hit anything vital, you can empty your entire power cell into a man without killing him." She turned toward Brother Morris. "Did you bring spare power cells?"
The tall monk looked down into Lu's white-rimmed eyes. "Several."
"You know who we are and what we want," Nan repeated. "And we'll get it, we always do. Whether you're capable of rising from this bed ever again by the time we've extracted it is entirely up to you."
"I'm a loyal servant of the Alliance. I've done nothing wrong." At Nan's raised eyebrow he said, voice rising, "Everyone bends the rules out here. Everyone. It's the only way anything gets done. Perhaps some of my activities stretch the ethics laws a bit, but there's no harm done."
"Bending the rules. Like the Civil Service policies regarding … proper comportment?" Nan cocked an eye at the bedroom door.
Lu regained a bit of his composure. "She's a local hire," he said dismissively. "They have looser morals here."
So it's the woman's fault, is it? You have no idea how lucky you are, carpetbagger, Nan thought. If Risa were here, she'd put a hole in you for that remark, and pray for you after. "She's less than half your age, Minister, and rather pretty. I don't think relaxed mores goes very far towards explaining what she's doing here with you. She's your subordinate, I believe? Your 'personal assistant'?"
The man met Nan's eyes. In a level voice he said, "That woman is here entirely of her own free will."
"Oh, I'm sure you allowed her to freely choose between refusal and her career," the Templar 'nun' said. "Interesting as this conversation is, it's not why we're here. You're interfering with the activities of one of our people. I want to know why."
Lu wet his lips. "I was simply protecting the interests of a friend and business associate. I had no idea at the time that you people were involved. Frankly, it doesn't seem something you'd be interested in."
Very quietly, Nan asked, "Your 'business associate.' Simon Ames?"
"Yes," the minister said. "Simon Ames."
And there it is, Nan thought. Selling a little girl's life to turn a profit, you and her own father. She didn't have to look at her brothers to know their hands were tightening on the grips of their weapons; she could almost smell blood thickening the air, adding to the scent of burnt cloth.
Lu felt it too. "It was nothing personal," he said, voice rising. "Just business. I've been doing it for years."
Instantly, the charge in the air grounded out, leaving confusion behind. Nan said, "You've been doing what for years?"
"Restricting air traffic over the Wood," he said, puzzlement marking his face as well. "Ostensibly it's a safety concern – it would be difficult to get someone out, if they made a forced landing in the middle of all that. And it gives us an excuse to inspect the vehicles that have legitimate business there."
"Inspect them for what?"
The man's confusion doubled. "Scanning devices. Survey equipment."
The Templars looked at one another. She said, "You're keeping craft from overflying the Wood on the chance they might be offering your friend some competition?"
Lu scowled. "You don't know, then."
The Templars stilled, waiting.
The minister swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, and said, "It isn't about what someone else would find. It's what they wouldn't find. Those satellites haven't detected a new lode since Sime bought them. He's been 'shopping the maps, revealing a few lodes a month, trying to keep prices under control. But the last of them near enough to the surface to be mined at a profit are finally claimed. The Wood is played out. All Sime has left are the contracts he's working right now. When they're done, mining on New Home is finished. And if his asteroid venture isn't up and running by the time that happens, he'll be finished here as well. Not just not making money, broke. His creditors will pounce on him like wolves, and take whatever he has left."
Nan thought about that, while the silence stretched. "You know about his daughter."
"Of course. Everyone knows."
"And you know it's suspected she was taken into the Wood."
"I know what Sime suspects," the man said.
"And that he hired the crew of Serenity to go in and get her?" And that it will save your joint business venture if they fail?
"What?" Lu's brows knitted. "No."
"Yes. The shuttle was supposed to provide support for the search party in the Wood." She waited, looking for his reaction. "If they can't find her, or find her too late because -"
"Wo di tien." Lu swung his legs off the bed. Morris's gun rose a few centimeters, but stopped when he glanced at Nan and saw her tiny hand signal: wait.
The minister reached toward a side table for his network com, a gadget called a 'phone' on some worlds. He pressed several buttons and put the device to his ear. He said crisply, "Derik. It's Lu. I need the lockdown on the shuttles from that tramp ship rescinded immediately. I … of course I know what time it is. Those boats have to be cleared for flight by daybreak ... I know I just asked you to ground them. Things have changed, I'll explain later. Throw on some clothes and go to the office now. Fill out the documentation, fudge the inspection forms, whatever you need to push it through." Another pause. "I'll talk with him. Just have the form ready for his signature before dawn." He disconnected. "Buddha. Why didn't he tell me?" He muttered.
He briskly punched in another number. Lu's fear seemed to have vanished as the task at hand filled his attention; he hardly seemed to be aware of the others in the room. Absently, he flipped the corner of the bedsheet over his lap as he began talking. "Antin. It's Jian. Sorry to wake you, but something urgent has come up. Derik is sending you some documents for signature, probably within the hour. No. No, they can't wait till morning, sorry, but the signature only needs to be electronic, you won't need to leave the house. I'll owe you for this. Yes, it's a very big deal, you can't imagine." He chuckled, then said, "Oh, I'd say it might be worth a small piece of the action. We'll discuss it tomorrow, eh? I have more calls to make." He disconnected. "Tan lan shagua," he muttered. "If his mother dropped her glasses and he picked them up, he wouldn't give them back without a finder's fee." He said to Nan, "Do you have a way to get the news to your … associate?"
She said, "I think it best if the message comes from you." She intended to send Derrial a message via his handheld Cortex link as soon as their business here was done, but his secretive handling of the device led her to believe that his crewmates didn't know about it. "And keep it on the low."
Lu nodded and made another call. "Wake up, you slug. I have a job for you. Yes, now. Out by Millersburg, there's a shop that does ship repairs … Frye's, that's it. There's a tramp freighter out there. It's the only ship outside the junkyard fence, you can't miss it. Go bang on the hatch until you wake somebody up, and tell them their shuttles are cleared to fly where they like. Got that? Repeat it back." He listened, nodding, then said, "Good. Don't waste time, they'll want to go at first light and I don't know how long they'll need to get ready." He hung up and looked at the people surrounding three sides of the bed. "Is that all this was about, really?"
My thought exactly, Nan thought. "No. we have other questions."
A short while later, the three Templars, weapons now hidden, came through the bedroom door into the spacious lounge, where the Minister's bedmate sat on a couch at the other end with the fourth monk standing over her. She looked quite vulnerable and altogether frightened. The robe, which rode up to her knees, was tucked between her thighs, as were her hands. She glanced at the intruders, then at the door. An innocent coerced into Lu's bed, Nan wondered, or an amoral climber trying to sleep her way up the ladder? Dangerous for her, either way.
Brother Morris touched her sleeve, and they paused just outside the door, still out of the girl's hearing. In a low voice he said, "What do you make of that?"
"I think Lu was sincerely helping his friend both times – when he grounded the shuttles and when he released them." She added, "It doesn't let Ames off the hook, certainly. There may be a reason he didn't tell his 'old friend' about the rescue party."
Morris nodded. "Someone to take the fall, if it was discovered that the Woodsman wasn't the one took the daughter."
She nodded and moved to the couch where the girl sat staring at them and the door beyond them."Fang shin, little one. You're in no trouble, at least not with us. And your … friend has come to no real harm." Nan stood in front of her and looked down. "Are you sure you know what you're getting into with him?"
The girl's head came up, and she looked straight into her captor's eyes, resentment showing through the fear. "Better than you." Nan was puzzled by the sudden shift, until some intuition told her that the backwater-born girl had recognized Nan's upper-class Londinium accent.
The girl went on, "My nephew is sick, something he was born with. He's six now, and it keeps getting worse. He needs treatment offworld, Inner Worlds medicine. My sister and her husband couldn't pay for it if they saved for twenty years. But last week, Jory was checked into a clinic on Persephone – nothing fancy, but fixing what he's got doesn't take fancy if you live on the right side of the Border. Jian arranged everything, even passage, and lodging for Jan and Mark nearby while he's being treated. They didn't have to spend a credit." She looked away. "I'm not a fool. I know it didn't cost him what it would have cost us – might not have cost him anything, just calling in some favors. But there was no help for us anywhere else." Her gaze dropped to her hands resting in her lap. "I owe him more than I can ever pay back with money. I suppose I should be flattered, really."
"You know you won't satisfy your debt with a single payment." You'll be his to do with as he pleases until he tires of you, or you decide you've paid enough. If I were you, child, I'd look for employment elsewhere as soon as your family comes back.
"This wasn't the first payment. I started leaving clothes here a week ago. I told you, I know what I've gotten into." The girl clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "He's not a bad man," she said, head still bowed. "A decent boss, too, better than some. I even like him a little."
Nan sighed softly, and felt herself nodding. "I presume your clothes are all in the bedroom. Someone can bring them out. Or you can go back in, if you want. We're done here."
The girl stood, gathered herself, and headed toward the bedroom door. When she opened it, Nan could see Lu still sitting on the edge of the bed, the burned sheet covering his lap. He looked up at the girl in the part-open doorway and said, "Nien ching da, are you all right?"
"Am I all right?" She replied breathlessly. She stepped in, and the door shut.
Brother Morris shook his head. "She should have just signed a contract and let him put a collar round her neck. At least then she'd know when it was going to be over."
"He wouldn't have gone for that. He'd have had to give her up as his assistant. The Federal Officeworker's Guild is understandably touchy about letting bureaucrats own their secretaries." And, whatever redeeming qualities he may have, Lu is a man who expects a return on his investments. All the Inner Worlders on the Rim are here to make a profit of some sort, even the Church. She shrugged as she heard the hiss of the shower through the bedroom door. "Who's to say we wouldn't have done the same, were we in their place? Either of them?"
Everyone bends the rules here. It's how things get done.