Fiddleback Trilogy 3 - Evil Triumphant

  Crowley filled the silence. "It meant you were a chip-child. Maybe."

  Jytte nodded in resignation. "It meant I was born with congenital defects caused by bad genes or because one or both of my parents used chemicals without regard to the possible side-effects. It meant my parents or grandparents were of sufficient moral standing that an abortion was not seen as an option and of sufficient means that they could afford to make me a sacker."

  The term sacker struck a resonant chord in me. The term originally came from the acronym for Specially Augmented Child, which meant the child had been provided with a whole host of computer-operated vehicles and appliances designed to promote independence. Through use of a computer driven by eye-blink commands or a simple touch on a simpler keyboard, a challenged child could make the machines do the things he could not do for himself. The derisive term sacker came from the way some children who were born with severe handicaps would be suspended inside one of their com-outer-controlled vehicles in a nylon hammocklike sack.

  "You don't know that." I shook my head. "You are supposing an existence that may not have been true."

  "But the evidence is there, Coyote." Jytte stared up at me like a hunted and trapped animal. "Mickey was a severely deformed child who Pygmalion made beautiful. There are scattered reports of similarly deformed children being whisked away — enough to suggest a consistent modus operandi for Pygmalion. He healed himself and now, it appears, heals others in his own peculiar way."

  Crowley cleared his throat. "Even with this speculation about your possible origin, you found no report of anyone like the person you feared you might have been disappearing, did you?"

  "No."

  Rajani shivered. "Which makes you think that you were seen as nothing more as a burden upon your family — a burden they willingly and happily had lifted from them when you were taken away."

  Jytte nodded wordlessly.

  "You're making one big mistake, Jytte," I said softly. "A lack of evidence proves nothing. Yes, it could be that you were a chip-child born to a rich family here in Phoenix or up in Flagstaff. And, it could be that when you vanished they raised no alarm about it. But the lack of evidence more strongly supports the possibility that you are wrong, that you were not a chip-child, because a nonexistent chip-child would leave just as much evidence as the child hidden away by a callous conspiracy."

  "But if I go back, if I try to remember, I might find the evidence I need to confirm my worst fears."

  "What difference does that make?" I stood and started pacing. "Five months ago, I was an assassin in the employ of Fiddleback. My job, my avocation, was going places and killing people on command. Yet when Coyote stripped my memory from me, I became what you see now. That is the key."

  Turning, I pointed a finger straight at her. "What you were does not matter. What you have become is what is important. It does not matter if you were missed or not when Pygmalion took you. We need you now. We value you now, both for the information you have and because of who you made yourself into. You are a responsible and talented individual, and nothing that you could possibly learn about yourself would change that."

  Jytte gave me a quizzical grin that I did not understand until she explained. "I saw your lips moving, but I heard the other Coyote's words coming out of your mouth. You are right. I am willing try to try to recover the information you want." She shifted in her chair and tucked her hair behind her left ear. "Rajani, I may need your help, if you are willing."

  The alien woman nodded her head. "I am honored by your trust. Yes, anything you need."

  Jytte eased herself forward on the seat, then stood. "I think I can accomplish this better in my own rooms. I will be more comfortable there, and I have access to the types of graphic databases that I need to correlate things I remember with items in the real world."

  I nodded. "If you need anything, let me know."

  She reached into the pocket of her jumpsuit and handed me a folded slip of paper. "Perhaps you can figure this out while we determine where Pygmalion lairs when he's on Earth."

  "What is it?"

  "A list." Jytte smiled wanly as she and Rajani headed toward the suite's front door. "A list of files that Vetha has been accessing in our computer system — files that are not connected to what we are doing."

  I unfolded the paper as the door closed behind the two women. The file names had been typed in a double row and could have been as simple as a list of people to be invited to a party:

  Judas Iscariot Benedict Arnold

  Brutus Adolf Hitler

  Joe Valachi Kim Philby

  Julius and Ethel Rosenberg Aaron Burr

  Vidkun Quisling Alexander Haig Tycho Caine (DeepThroat)

  I refolded it and tucked it into my pocket. Sinclair shot me a puzzled look. "What is it?"

  "As Jytte said, it's a list. It reads like 'traitors-r-us' and has my name tacked on to the end of it." I folded my arms across my chest. "I don't like it."

  "What does it mean?" Sin asked.

  "It means I'm going to have to talk with Vetha." I felt the world closing in on me. "it means I have to find out if she's gathering information to figure me out, or if she's trying to send me a message."

  Vetha arrived in the Lorica Citadel a little over four hours after Jytte gave me the list of files, Crowley and Sinclair left to get sleep, but I used the time I had to call each of the files up on the computer in my suite and simply confirm what I knew from looking at the names. Each and every one of the individuals on the list had betrayed an ally or master during the course of his or her career.

  Finding myself included on the list did not surprise me at all when I knew Vetha had compiled it. I knew that Fiddleback viewed me as a traitor, but the feelings I had gotten from Vetha had never been strong nor particularly malevolent. In fact, the nastiest thing she had done to me was to include me on this list.

  Through the computer system, I sent her a message saying I wanted to speak with her. Within 15 minutes, she arrived via the private elevator from the executive visitor suites Lorica maintained for visiting officers from other companies. She looked exactly as I expected from when I last saw her, though the chitin on one arm segment did seem creased. As Crowley had mentioned, she had been hurt; I assumed that was a scar.

  The one thing that did surprise me about her arrival was the fact that she carried a board game with her. She set it down on the coffee table in the sitting room, then bowed her head to me. "It is good to see you well, Coyote. Your recovery has pleased our master."

  "Your master, not mine."

  Vetha said nothing as she seated herself on the floor. As if she were the hostess, she pointed me to the couch opposite her. Sitting down, I sat toward the edge of the couch. Vetha ignored me and proceeded to open the Scrabble box. She carefully laid the board out, then turned all of the lettered tiles face up. Holding one fingerlike appendage up before her mandibles, she cautioned me to silence, then plucked letters from the box and laid them out on the board.

  The sentence she laid out said: FBACK HAS NO TOLERANCE FOR GAMES

  I blinked.

  "Your move, Coyote." Vetha looked up at me, her eight eyes filled with dark expectation. "You have seen the ruins of the camp?"

  I nodded. "I have. Did the two Plutonians you took back to their dimension survive?"

  "They did." Vetha's forelimbs moved quickly, rearranging and adding letters to those on the board. FB CAN MONITOR OUR CONVERSATION BUT THIS GAME IS BENEATH HIM

  "The chances of salvaging anything from there are nonexistent." I laid a message out as I spoke. YOU CAN SPELL WITHOUT HIM KNOWING

  "I concur." TRANSLATOR FB NO GOOD WITH LANGUAGE "I believe that puts you 50 points down."

  "The game is not over yet. Pygmalion has hardened his proto-dimension, but we have an angle we're working on to crack it open." I quickly put down a new message. FILE NAMES MSG FOR ME

  SI TRAITORS

  "That's another 20 points for you. Good use of Spanish." AM I A TRAITOR


  FB EYES YES NO TRUST "And 37 for you."

  I KNOW HE DOES NOT TRUST ME I felt excitement rising in me as I fished for letters in the pile on the table. While I had not imagined the synthesis of the Myrangeikki race was voluntary, Vetha's antipathy toward Fiddleback surprised me. I would have thought he would not have used her as an envoy if the chance of betrayal could present itself. Then again, I reminded myself, Fiddleback's incredible arrogance had already failed him twice.

  U NO TRUST FB Vetha swept away the word and substituted another after I nodded in comprehension. U NO TRUST ME

  I removed some of her letters and smiled as I substituted others. I TRUST U

  NO DO NOT TRUST FB OR ME She looked up and I read the urgent pleading in her eyes. PROMISE

  DONE WHY U TELL ME THIS

  BEING ME IS SWEET DO NOT WANT U PART OF FB

  I hesitated. "That's game, I guess. Best two of three?"

  "Yes."

  Although I only had recently cobbled together my current identity, the idea of subsuming it within another individual did not sound inviting. To become part of Fiddleback, to become one of the creatures on whose misery he fed, was not something I desired for myself or anyone else. I'd sooner commit suicide than have that happen.

  Vetha went first. FB WILL BETRAY YOU

  HOW "Double-word score there."

  ME ANOTHER NO DATA

  I shook my head. U NO BETRAY ME

  Vetha snaked a hand out, the limb telescoping toward me with switchblade speed. Her three fingers closed on my throat, then released quickly. As I choked back a gasp, she assembled a message. I NO WANT PUPPET TO FB NO TRUST ME

  "Big score there." I rubbed at my throat and coughed lightly. GOT MSG

  GOOD U SHOULD NOT BE I Vetha shook her head. "I hope this new plan to get Pygmalion works. He cannot be allowed to be victorious."

  "I agree." I dropped letters in a row quickly. PYG FIRST FB NEXT

  "Ah, you win." Vetha nodded to me. "I am fatigued. Another time we will play the deciding game, yes?"

  "It will be my pleasure." GRACIAS

  U WILL NOT BE I HAPPY ME

  We got very lucky with Jytte and her recollections. She has an excellent mind for details, and the year in which she escaped had been the wettest on record since 1992 in Arizona. Throughout the deserts, wild flowers bloomed and other plants thrived, covering the area with vegetation seldom seen more than once a decade.

  Working with Rajani, Jytte was able to specify plants and later correlate her remembrances with botanical data. More importantly, though, because of the unseasonable weather, an inordinate number of photographic and videographic records from that year existed. Starting with tapes archived by the Kingman television station and falling back to CD-ROMs burned by Northern Arizona University students doing a botanical survey of the upper plateau, Jytte managed to pinpoint the area through which she traveled.

  Jytte went ahead and narrowed down the likely places where she could have been held. She smiled sheepishly when she presented a floorplan for the place, noting, "I determined this had to be the correct location because of how hard I wanted to deny the possibility that it could have been the place I sought."

  In a briefing room, with Sinclair, Rajani, Jytte and Crowley, I looked down at the representation of the Pulliam Estate. It had been built after the 1996 election as a retreat for the former vice president after his humiliating defeat in the presidential election. He lived there, a virtual recluse, for two years until he and Pee-wee Herman teamed up for remakes of the Martin and Lewis films. Eventually, he moved to France to be with his audience and sold the place to a holding company, Fair Lady Properties.

  "I obtained the floorplan from notes made by the last assessor to go out there. The security is as noted and was suitable for the protection of a former vice president." Jytte glanced down at some notes she had made. "Recent utility records indicated a lower usage than was present during the days the first occupant owned it, suggesting either an independent power source or some of the systems being turned off."

  Crowley stared at the floorplan for a moment, then nodded. "Big enough, isolated. The greenhouse extension could be used for almost anything and easily converted into a lab. It's on the top of a small plateau, which means guarding the entrances is easy. The property is large enough to hold the troops he would bring through if he was looking at a limited strikeforce. From the location here to the north of Kingman, both Flagstaff and Las Vegas are well within striking range."

  I glanced at my watch, "it's 9 a.m. now. Hal, Bat and the other wounded are due back here on the plane this afternoon, it will take us 3 1/2 hours to get out there." I looked over at Crowley. "Soft penetration, quick recon?"

  The occultist nodded. "In and back out fast. If it is the staging area, we will know. If it isn't, maybe we can find clues to what is."

  Jytte looked up at me from the far end of the table. "If we leave here by 5 p.m., it will be getting dark out there."

  "We?" I searched her face for a clue about her feelings, but the mask had slid back into place. "I would not have thought you want to go back there. I assumed Crowley and I would handle this."

  "I know, but logic would dictate that having me along would mean instant confirmation of the target's identity."

  "But, Ms. Ravel, you could also come undone." Crowley shook his head. "Are you certain your remaining behind would not be best?"

  Jytte met his questioning gaze openly. "No, for two reasons. The first is that I actually do need to face what I left behind there. If I do not do that, I will become just like a plant that outgrows its pot. As much as I might not like to acknowledge my past, and as much as I don't want to discover it all at once, I do need to know who I am so I can grow."

  I nodded. "And the other reason? You're not thinking of shooting the place up, are you?"

  "No, but there is one thing I don't think you've considered, gentlemen. I have." Jytte set her fists on her hips and I knew instantly we would not be leaving her in Phoenix when we headed out. "If I escaped from that facility, the chances are excellent that more people like me are still trapped there. I may not know who I was, but I do know that the person I am now cannot leave those people behind. Having once been in the state of mind they are likely experiencing, you'll need me to get them out."

  I studied the buildings on the Pulliam estate through the Starlight scope Crowley passed me. A greenish tinge defined the buildings, clinging to their sharp lines and outlining the conservative nature of the architecture. The main building, a ranch-style house, had a two-story addition at the northern end. Beyond it, I caught a hint of the greenhouse that had been pointed out on the floorplan.

  The out-buildings consisted of a pool house, a guest house and a detached garage large enough for at least three vehicles. The garage had apartments built into its second story. Kennels stood between the garage and the main house.

  "I don't see anything. No movement, no lights, nothing."

  "Agreed." Crowley took the scope from me and offered it to Jytte, but she shook her head. "I think we can proceed."

  Wordlessly, the three of us got up from the low hill that hid our Range Rover II from sight of the house and started to work our way down the hillside. Moving in the dark, with only a sliver of moon to guide us, we had to go slowly to avoid injury and doing anything that might alert people on the estate of our approach. If things went as well as possible, we could be in and out with no one the wiser.

  Despite our desire to make this reconnaissance foray quiet and bloodless, each of us packed a considerable amount of hardware. I wore two Colt Kraits — one on each hip — and a Wildey Wolf in a Bianchi shoulder holster under my left arm. The automatic pistols had served me well during the time I'd been in Coyote's cadre and, after the incident with the Aryans, I felt damned near naked without them. I also carried an HK MP-7 that was suppressed and silenced, just in case I needed to fill the air with a lot of slugs in a hurry.

  My black fatigues made me one with the night. The thi
gh pockets were where I stashed the clips for my pistols, while the pouches lying flat against my stomach carried the spare ammo for the MP-7. My canteen hung from my belt at the back. Beneath the fatigues, I wore a standard Kevlar vest with trauma padding thickening it over my midline front and back, it by no means made me invulnerable, but widened the line between instant death and serious wounding. As I often walked that line, broadening it made the journey so much easier.

  Jytte wore the same sort of fatigues as I did, and she tucked her long, blond hair up into a black watch-cap. She decided against carrying any pistols and instead opted for an Ml 77 carbine. While it used the same rifle cartridge as its big brother, the Ml 6A2, the carbine's collapsible stock and shortened barrel made it perfect for close combat. She carried enough spare clips to finish a war, and I hoped she would not initiate anything we were ill-equipped to survive.