Ambush: A Terran Empire vignette

target's network, and contactedhim. Even if, as Nevan thought probable, Owajima was working on theBracei case, he'd make time to have a presumed assassin investigated.That was why Nevan had made no secret of his last destinations,following his flight plans precisely as he'd filed them. That, and thefact that a Sandeman hired killer shouldn't display the subtleties andprecautions that would mark him as having had Imperial training of anysort, particularly a field agent's training; the two simply didn't gotogether.

  A tall man in Marine service dress with captain's bars approachedNevan's table, carrying a drink. "Mind if I join you, warrior?" heasked.

  "If you wish, Captain."

  The other sat, looking him over; Nevan returned the scrutiny, waiting.

  "I'm Kim Johansen, of SecuDiv," the Marine said at last. "You're VanceDarLowrie, just in on the Last Resort?"

  Nevan nodded. "I am, Captain Johansen. What of it?"

  "If you're what rumor calls you and your ship's name implies, I'dadvise you to lay low. The Baron here takes a dim view of assassins."

  "Most people do, except those who have need of one. I thank you foryour concern, though; I will be careful."

  "Good." Johansen sipped at his drink, frowned. "A warrior of yourclan saved my life during the war. I feel a certain obligation torepay that debt, even if I don't particularly approve of youroccupation myself."

  "There's no proof I'm what you guess."

  "The fact you don't deny it will be enough for most." Johansen showedbrief distaste, swallowed the rest of his drink, and rose. "I can'twish you luck, since that'd mean wishing someone else dead. But I canwish it for your clan, and I do."

  Nevan rose to bow. "I will pass your wishes, and word of yourrepayment, to the Lowrie. Go in peace, Captain Johansen--and pleaseaccept my wishes for your well-being. Whatever you think of me or myprofession--" most Imperials were as dubious of field agents as theywere of assassins--"I want only the best for the Empire and itsofficers."

  "Sandemans don't lie, so I accept that," Johansen said. Then,grudgingly, "Thank you, warrior." With that he left, abruptly.

  Nevan allowed himself a small smile, then went to get more chocolatemilk. Not too promising so far, but he hadn't been here long, either.

  Perhaps half an hour after he returned to his table, another manapproached, this one in an expensive suit. "Vance DarLowrie?"

  "Yes." Nevan recognized the type; a businesser who'd made enemies andwanted either protection or one of them eliminated. "I am notavailable at the moment."

  "You have other employment?"

  "That's none of your concern."

  The businesser sat. "It is if your target is Kiyoshi Owajima, as I'veheard. I have reason to want him . . . out of the picture."

  "Oh?" Nevan remained noncommittal, but allowed himself to show a traceof interest. "I understand he's an Imperial officer--a dangeroustarget. Killing him would earn the death penalty or lifeimprisonment--death, if done simply for pay. That's a foolish risk,when there are any number of almost riskless targets around."

  "I can tell you where he's going when he finishes his current mission."

  "Interesting, if true," Nevan acknowledged.

  "It's true," the businesser said.

  Reading his face and body language, Nevan agreed. The man knew, waseager to say--and would report to Owajima as soon as he could. Nevanmade himself look skeptical, which wasn't hard; this was obviously asetup. "Even if he were my target, which I do not say, I would wantmore than your unsupported word. Will you submit to truth drugs, orshall I use Sandeman methods?"

  "Torture, you mean." The businesser grimaced. "In my position, Idon't dare submit to truth drugs. And I've no desire to use my pain toconvince you I'm telling the truth."

  Nevan shrugged. "Those are the alternatives." He didn't particularlylike torture himself, and especially disliked using it on one of afield agent's network. But an enemy would have no hesitation, anduntil he caught up with Owajima--or was caught himself--he was actingin that capacity. "If you are convinced Owajima is my target, and youwish to assist me in finding him, you will choose one. Otherwise, youwill depart."

  The businesser looked angry, but Nevan could see he'd expectedsomething of the sort. "The torture, then. When and where?"

  "My ship, now." Nevan stood. "Come along."

  * * * * *

  Nevan scowled down at the unconscious businesser. He'd restricted hisopen questioning to Owajima's plans and next location--his homeworld,not surprisingly--but he'd done some questioning covertly as well,making comments about Owajima and reading the answers from hissubject's face and body language. The man had confirmed an opinionNevan had formed early: given the opportunity, he and Owajima couldeasily become friends.

  This man, for instance. He'd owed Owajima a debt, true, but it hadbeen loyalty rather than obligation that had led him to help the way hehad. Assuming he was successful in this mission, Nevan thought, he'dhave to see the businesser got some sort of compensation. Though theman had definitely been in serious pain, Nevan had inflicted no realdamage beyond bruises; when the man woke, he'd be able to functionnormally.

  Nevan was tempted to clean the man up, put him to bed, and dose himwith rapid-heal--but that wasn't how one with his cover occupationwould act. Instead, he got an injector of energine and triggered itinto the businesser's carotid artery. Seconds later, the man's eyesopened and he groaned. "Are you done yet?"

  "Yes. You may get dressed and leave. I would advise you to waste notime; liftoff is in ten minutes."

  "I'll be gone." The man struggled to his feet and into the small'fresher, where Nevan had had him leave his clothing; less than twominutes later he was leaving the ship.

  Nevan had his flight plan ready by then. He transmitted it to thespaceport controller, got clearance, and was lifting off at thespecified time. Not long afterward, he was far enough from the planetto make the transition to hyperspace, and did so.

  * * * * *

  Owajima smiled as he read his agent's decoded message. DarLowrie hadacted precisely as could be expected from a Sandeman assassin, itseemed, though Owajima was pleased his agent reported nothing moreserious than bruises. He frowned, though, when he reached the lastparagraph.

  "Personal impressions: I can't pinpoint it, but something about himreminds me of you. The feeling you give me of being looked into morethan at, maybe. It's not the typical Sandeman arrogance that makes youfeel like you're not worth the bother of looking at--it's more likebeing under a microscope. I'm sorry to be so vague, but as I said,there wasn't anything definite I can point to."

  A feeling of being looked into rather than at. Owajima frowned moredeeply. That bore an uncomfortable resemblance to a particularlyobservant person's reaction to someone who was reading @'s face andbody language. That was not a common skill, particularly amongSandemans--though he had to admit it would be as useful a skill for anassassin as it was for a field agent.

  In which case, it was possible DarLowrie had obtained more informationthan Owajima had intended--including that the information had been setup for him to find. And where had DarLowrie learned such a skill? Noton any of the Sandeman worlds, which weren't given to such subtleties.The only places Owajima knew, in fact, that taught more than the mostbasic such reading were the Kai school here, and the Imperial fieldagent school on Terra. No Sandeman had ever studied here, and he wasaware of only one who had successfully completed field agent training--hispredecessor as top agent, Nevan DarLeras, now sworn to the CrownPrincess by the totally-binding Sandeman personal-fealty oath.

  That left a graduate of one of those two schools as DarLowrie'steacher. An ex-field agent was by far the more likely, if only becausethere were many more of them, and few Kai-school ninjas left Nippon-Ni.Take that as a working hypothesis, then. In that case, was it likelythe agent had taught DarLowrie only face and body reading?

  It would be safest, Owajima thought, to operate on the worst-
caseassumption that DarLowrie had learned most, if not all, of an agent'sskills. He would need them, if he had any intention of assassinatingOwajima on his home territory and then escaping.

  Should he simply eliminate DarLowrie, or would it be better to captureand question him? The second, Owajima decided almost immediately.That would be more difficult, but it might be a good idea to discoverthe agent reckless enough to teach such skills to anyone able to pay--anddiscourage . . .

  He was going to do it himself. He could and would