Mag Force - Hung Out Part 18

Departing in haste, Petronella returned to her hotel by a circuitous route, keeping watch.

No pool cleaner trucks were in pursuit. No one was following her.

Not that this proves anything, she said to herself. If that man was following me, then he must have picked me up at the hotel. Why didn't I check like I usually do? That was careless. d.a.m.n careless.

They must have staged it, she repeated. And the very fact that she repeated it meant that she wasn't believing it.

Motive. The Bureau was very big on motive. And for the life her she couldn't figure out any motive for why the Mag Force 7 team would try to convince her that she'd been tailed by a pool cleaner in disguise.

Amadi. then. He was on to her.

Once she reached her room, she did a quick calculation of the time difference. It was late, but Tom might still be in the office.

"McCarthy here," he answered, sounding hara.s.sed.

Petronella wasn't fooled. He always sounded that way, a method he used to get rid of annoying callers.

"h.e.l.lo, Tom, it's Rizzoli."

"Oh, hi, Rizzoli. How are you feeling? Any better?"

"Yes. Well, no, not really. Say, Tom, could you do me a favor? I heard on a news broadcast that the prisoner Tampambulos is being sent to Jango. Could you check that out for me? It sounds fishy."

"I'll say. Since when do convicted murderers go to a resort spa like Jango? Unless they can afford it, of course. Just a sec.... I'll be d.a.m.ned, Rizzoli. You're right. Here's his transfer authorization. He's being sent to Jango. Well, isn't that a kick in the face."

"Who authorized the transfer, Tom?" Petronella asked.

"The chief supe. Amadi."

"Thanks." Petronella ended the link.

She kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed, having first taken the precaution of moving the table lamp to the floor and making certain the vid set was bolted to the dresser.

Jango. It sounded familiar. Why? She couldn't recall where she'd heard that name before.

Petronella called room service, ordered dinner. No cheap in-room replicators for this fancy hotel.

Lying on the bed, she activated the long-range and extremely sensitive listening device she'd placed under the table when the team had been distracted by the chair tumbling into the swimming pool.

The first voice she heard was Darlene's, and here was one of Petronella's answers.

"The Hung leaders are in prison on Jango."

CHAPTER 17.

O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again.

Thomas Wolfe, Look Homeward, Angel "The Hung leaders are in prison on Jango," said Darlene.

"This is starting to make sense."

"Not to me," Harry grumbled, hurt. "Why does Doc get to go see Xris and I don't?"

"Because Doc's going to fit Xris with a new cybernetic leg and arm, made to spec, if you take my meaning."

"Oh, yeah. I get it." Harry brightened. "A new leg with files and stuff inside so he can cut through the bars of his cells."

"Something like that," Darlene said gravely.

"You knew that, too, Jamil?"

"Yes, Harry. I knew."

"But how did you guys figure that out?" Harry's brow furrowed in deep concentration.

"Logical deduction, Harry. Inferences," said Darlene. "Do you understand?"

"No," Harry said bluntly. "I thought inferences were what you used to see in the dark."

Jamil and Darlene exchanged glances. Darlene hid her smile, but Jamil was forced to leave hurriedly, mumbling something about checking to see if all the snooping devices had been removed from the pool.

"I don't see what's so funny." Over the splash of the fountain, Harry could hear Jamil laughing.

"I'll explain, Harry," Darlene said kindly. "You said yourself that they'd taken Xris's cybernetic limbs. Doc gets a call to his service. Xris leaves a message saying he needs a new leg and a new arm and can Doc come and fit them. Any cybertechnologist could have fit Xris with a new leg. The fact that he asked specifically for Dr. Quong indicates that he would like a little something extra."

"But we don't know what," Harry protested.

"True. My guess is that Quong is on my computer right now, researching the security devices at Jango and trying to figure out how to get around them."

"You're really smart, Darlene," Harry said.

"Thank you, Harry." She smiled at him and rested her hand over his.

Night was coming to Adonia, bringing with it cool air, the perfume of night-blossoming tropical flowers, and the sounds of merriment from the chateau belonging to one of the neighbors. Raoul wandered onto the patio, looking distraught, disheveled, and tragic.

"What a ghastly day," he said faintly, and sinking down into a chair, he rested his forehead on his hand, gave a heart-melting sigh. "Raj Vu is giving another party, and did he invite me? He did not. The Little One is in bed with a severe headache. He says he feels as if he has been pelted with bricks. And we must make do with leftovers for dinner. I had to give Hoskins the night off and he has threatened to give notice if that tornadic female returns."

Raoul gazed with pleading eyes at Darlene. "You don't consider it likely, do you?"

"I doubt if Agent Rizzoli will be back to see us," Darlene replied somberly. "I don't think we did a very good job of convincing her."

"What about the guy tailing her?" Jamil asked, returning to the table. "That would have convinced me."

"She probably figures we staged it. We could have, you know," Darlene replied, shrugging. "Hopefully we've given her something to think about, at least. She's the type who likes to ferret things out, that much is obvious, since she tracked down the files I altered. And she's energetic and she doesn't mind taking risks."

"She's a menace to society," Raoul said in a low, tremulous voice. "And should be locked up."

"What happens if she doesn't come through for us?" Jamil asked.

"Then it's up to Xris," Darlene replied. "He has something in mind or else he wouldn't be where he is right now. You ready to go, Doc?"

"I have booked a flight for 2200 this evening. I am to meet with Xris at 1200 day after tomorrow."

"Do you know what he wants?"

"I do not care what he wants," Quong replied stiffly. "I intend to provide him with what he needs. Ia""

Mozart sounded with d.a.m.nable cheeriness through the night.

"The G.o.ds save us!" Raoul proclaimed, his face ashen. "Maybe it's her again! Don't answer."

"It might be her," said Jamil, with a wink at the rest of them. "Or it could be Raj Vu with a party invitation."

"I'm coming!" Raoul cried.

"Harry, go with him," Jamil ordered.

"Absolutely not!" Raoul said, turning on them. Fire flickered in the depths of his usually drug-drowned eyes. "You would scare poor Raj Vu into fits. In that suit, you would frighten Death himself. I will call you if I need you," be added, and left to answer the door.

Jamil removed his lasgun from its holster, laid it out on the table, Quong, who should have been leaving for the s.p.a.ceport, had drifted over to where he could see Raoul through one of the windows. Darlene drummed her fingers nervously on the gla.s.s tabletop. Harry scratched his head. He had more important matters on his mind than unexpected visitors in the night.

"What does Raoul mean by leftovers?" he asked worriedly. "Those icky toadstools we had to eat for lunch?"

"Truffles," Darlene corrected.

Mozart played again.

"What the devil is Raoul doing?" Jamil demanded impatiently. "Why doesn't he answer the door?"

"He's fixing his makeup," Quong reported, peering through the gla.s.s, "and brus.h.i.+ng his hair."

Jamil muttered something beneath his breath.

Quong continued to watch. "He is opening the doora""

A piercing scream shattered the night, split their eardrums, and probably would have finished off the Ming vase if Petronella hadn't gotten to it first.

"In the name of the Maker!" Dr. Quong gasped, staring, wide-eyed. He dropped his briefcase.

"I knew it!" Jamil was on his feet, lasgun in hand.

Harry was right behind him and Darlene was behind Harry, although Jamil ordered her repeatedly to keep back.

They found Raoul prostrate on the marble floor of the entryway, picturesquely composed, his hair flowing around him, apparently unconscious. The Little One, his hat tossed on his head backward, was bent over his friend, but his gaze was riveted in astonishment on the being standing in the doorway.

The being was a talla"well over two metersa"humanoid, with skin that had been as dark as the night through which he'd traveled, but which now was gradually lightening, taking on the taupe color of the walls in the entry hall.

"Tycho!" Jamil gasped.

The chameleon, for that's what his people were called. due to the fact that their skin changed color to match their surroundings, looked at them all and grinned with pleasure "You know me!" he said, speaking through a translator. "I wasn't certain you would remember!"

CHAPTER 18.

BERNARDO: It would be spoke to. MARCELLUS: Speak to it, Horatio.

William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act I "Tychoa"you're...you're dead!" Jamil was the only member of team able to find his tongue. The rest were still searching through the general astonishment for theirs. "You were blown to bits by a grenade! I saw the body."

"Yes, of course," said the chameleon. "An immeasurable sorrow. Why are you pointing that lasgun at me, Jamil?"

Jamil was suspicious, grim. "All right, you know my name. Who the h.e.l.l are you?"

The chameleon appeared confused. "I am Tycho. You must know me. I know all of you. Quong, Darlene, Harry Luck, Raoul, the Little One. But"a"he glanced arounda" "where is Xris Cyborg?"

Keeping the lasgun trained on the alien, Jamil grabbed hold of a handful of the Little One's raincoat and shook him. "Who is this b.a.s.t.a.r.d really?"

The Little One slapped himself back and forth on the side of his head several times and performed a shuffling dance step.

Jamil watched in frustration. Raoul, the only one who could understand his friend, was only semiconscious, making low moaning sounds and fitfully requesting that someone bring him a dry sherry.

"Doc," Jamil asked, "can you translate? What's the Little One saying?"

Quong joined the rest of them in staring in amazement at the stranger who claimed he wasn't. Then he looked at the Little One.

"I have no idea."

"Wake up sleeping beauty, then," Jamil said harshly. "You, Tycho, or whoever you are, don't move. Do what you can for him, Doc. We need Raoul to translate."

Quong kept his gaze on the chameleon, who was now starting to appear uneasy, his skin color fading from taupe to a sort of sickly gray. The doctor knelt beside Raoul and gave him a not very gentle slap on each cheek.

"The rubber hose," Raoul murmured, smiling beatifically. "Don't forget to bring the rubber hose to suck the..." His eyelids fluttered. He looked up and his smile froze. "You're not the pool cleaner."

Quong grunted, shoved Raoul to a seated position.

Raoul took one look at the chameleon and promptly screamed.

"Don't faint! And that's an order!" Jamil motioned to the chameleon. "Who is this?"