The Forlorn(110)

Shael looked at her in sadness. Her voice was a careful monotone. "They have your lover. And probably your child. Their safety is hostage against your behavior."

Leyla sighed. "After my dear Prince Jaybe, I didn't think I'd ever love a man. That I ever could. Sex was just a way of making them all pay. Then Laurence . . . he just took me away from the brothel. Away from Amphir. He didn't even seem interested in sex. He was just so kind, so gentle. I could talk, really talk to him. I was hopelessly in love. I was younger than you, I suppose. I seduced him." She sighed. "He was everything no man had ever been for me. I was so happy, especially when I found I was pregnant. My baby boy was just three months old when they were snatched. I nearly went mad. By the time that little creep came and told me their safety depended . . . How the Hell did you know?"

Shael looked down. Her father's dead hand still reached out to jangle the strings of his puppet child. "Standard Honey Trap," she said colorlessly. "My father eliminated most of the real governance of Arlinn. Its secret service was really just an arm of his. Your Laurence is the dream man of at least fifteen female agents out there. His counterpart Lauren has even more men who dream that her safety, and the safety of their child that she told them she was having, depend utterly on their cooperation. I thought it was so funny, when Saril Jaine told me about it. It was his department, you know. And he was too busy to pay proper attention to Cap . . . but he did stop my father hearing too much about it. I suppose you've been reporting all along. No wonder Deshin found us."

Leyla sat down, stunned, on the only available seat. "My son . . . ?"

"Oh, he'll be treated quite well. They're sent off to spy school from about four. If he's handsome they'll train him to do what his father does."

For a minute Leyla just sat, her face in her hands. Then she raised her head. "Give me that bag," she said in a small, hard voice.

Wordlessly Shael passed it over. Leyla fished out a rather bulky quilted sanitary towel from a stack of five, and a small knife. "It's the one place no man ever looks. I replaced Cap's hoard with ordinary opals," she said, a shade of the old Leyla coming through.

She slit the quilting open . . . and revealed four black river stones. Her mouth fell open. "How . . . ?"

Shael said quietly. "Keilin. He told me he'd stolen them. He could tell the opals weren't the real thing. He's coming, you know. He's inside the building."

Leyla sighed. "I'd have liked to see the end of your chase. I have his pendant and the core sections from both the Beta and the Alpha." She reached into her bag and produced a powder compact. "The Alpha's sections."

Shael touched. They were just dead stones. "Keilin was the first to reach S'kith's body. He must have replaced those too. Anyway there were five, not four." Wordlessly Leyla held out Keilin's pendant. Shael nodded. It coursed with coldness at her touch. Leyla took out the core sections she'd stolen a few minutes ago. They too cooled faintly at Shael's touch.

"Take them." She pointed to the ceiling. "I'll lift you up. You can push that air-vent cover aside."

"What about you?"

Leyla sighed. "I'll hold him here awhile. Threaten to flush his precious core sections down the loo. I don't really matter. I let my best friend die for nothing. I should have known that as soon as Bey turned away, Cap would cut him down. He was scared of Bey."

"Go back. Pretend I ran away. He wants you to have his children," Shael said quietly.

Leyla snorted, and said roughly, "Honey, his idea of sex does not result in children. To think he makes sarcastic comments about homosexuals! Now, up you go."

* * *

They found a stairwell. Well, none of them had ever seen or heard of elevators. Following Keilin's instincts they finally came to the officers' quarters. Then on to the room that said CAPTAIN'S SUITE. The Gene-spliced were about to kick the door in when Keil tried the handle. It swung open. The room was empty. But Gerda ran straight past him, into the bedroom and kicked open the bathroom door. Leyla lay there, gurgling, choking in her own blood. Her throat had been slashed. Keilin took one look.

The feeling of knowing, prescience, his most occasional psi talent, took over.

All he saw was a red cross.

He stepped up to the now more familiar keyboard. "HELP," he typed. "DOCTOR," and then, clumsily, "EMERGENCY."

There was a click. A voice from the speaker addressed him. "Is this a medical emergency?"

"Yes. A woman with her throat cut in the bathroom."

"An ambulance unit has been dispatched. Arriving in seven point three seconds. Remain calm. Attempt to pinch closed any major blood vessels which are pumping out blood. Stand clear when the rescue unit arrives."