Part 9 (1/2)

'Two investigators who aren't investigating.'

She looked meaningfully over at him.

'Let's rectify that, at least.'

'You mean . . . ?'

'I mean, college boy, that we're going to solve this case despite all the s.h.i.+t they can throw at us.'

He stared back. 'What's with this ”we”?'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Requesting a new partner this soon could look real bad on your report.'

He grinned. 'And besides,' he said, getting to his feet, 'where could they find someone else stupid enough to work with you?'

'That,' murmured Forrester as she followed him from the room, 'is my my line.' line.'

The hands on the desk suddenly jerked into life as the fastline link to the Arachnae Arachnae was severed. was severed.

'So, Doctor,' a voice murmured, 'you're getting away from the trap I laid for you on Earth. You think that you can escape me? Think again. I have tame Landsknechte as well as tame Adjudicators. If you don't wish to be brainwiped on Earth, perhaps it's best to have you killed on Purgatory.'

Quivering for a moment, like insects surprised by a light, the hands gradually began to scuttle across the surface of the desk, sending a message along the fastline towards a planet named Purgatory and a man named Provost-Major Beltempest. That done, the hands paused as their owner digested events that had occurred in his absence. The hands requested more data from centcomp records cross-referenced to an Adjudication lodge. The hands clasped like lonely animals and began softly to caress each other.

'And you, my friend,' the voice said. 'I thought that I had killed you, but I see I made a mistake. Not something that I am p.r.o.ne to do, and not something that remains unaddressed.'

The hands rested. Their owner waited.

In the privacy of his office on Purgatory, Provost-Major Montmorency Beltempest ran the tip of his trunk over the now-darkened viewscreen. The blue tip 58of his very expensively beppled trunk, he reminded himself. Money could buy an awful lot, and over the past few years he'd managed to indulge a number of tastes that he hadn't even realized he possessed. He'd got used to having lots of money to play with, and he wasn't about to give it up. Not for anything.

But still . . . murder? That wasn't really his line. Information, yes. He would pa.s.s on secret information with no qualms. n.o.body could trace the leaks back to him, he was certain of that. And contracts. a.s.signing new weapons development contracts to a specific firm was p.i.s.s easy. No risk there.

Even that business with the Hith s.h.i.+p and its crew hadn't bothered him overly.

But murder?

He eased himself out of his chair and crossed to the window. With one ma.s.sive blue paw he moved the lace curtains aside. It was night, and Purgatory's one scarred moon was casting its reflected light upon the buildings of the Imperial Landsknechte HQ. The albino lawn trembled gently to itself and, high above, particle beams glowed as a mock battle was fought.

Beltempest sighed. He had no choice, of course. Even if he wanted to give up on his regular second income, he wouldn't be allowed to. n.o.body ever resigned and lived, anyway.

The door chimed softly. He didn't jump, because what was left of his conscience was inured to deceit by now, but his mind quickly ran over prepared explanations, excuses and lies. Just in case.

'Come,' he said. The door slid open. Two silhouetted figures were stood just outside it. 'Yes? What is it, man?'

The figures raised their hands, revealing stunners. They wanted him alive, then. 'Provost-Major Beltempest?' one of them asked calmly.

So. The time had come. So soon. They must have intercepted the fastline call.

Beltempest stepped sideways and reached for the blaster at his side. His hand moved so slowly that it was as if he were standing up to his neck in one of the swampy Landsknechte training grounds, or moving through an alien atmosphere thick enough to cut with a knife. One of the Landsknechte at the door fired, but Beltempest hadn't just spent his money on fripperies. The stun beam reflected from the wire sheathing he'd had implanted beneath his skin, catching both of them. They slumped to the floor, dropping their weapons.

They could have tried anything up to plasma rifles, and he would still have been standing. Money could buy anything.

He fried both men with two careful bursts from his blaster. Beltempest was nothing if not careful. With luck, a gun and sufficient bribes, he could get to his private s.h.i.+p and off-planet within an hour. He took two steps towards the door . . .

And stopped. Cursing, he tried to force his legs to move, but they wouldn't 59obey him. What was this, some kind of new weapon? He slapped his thighs desperately. He could feel the impacts, but nothing was happening. It was as if someone else had taken control. Fear flooded his mind. If he couldn't get out if he was found there, with the two bodies then he would be finished.

Entirely without volition, the hand holding the blaster began to rise towards his face.

He didn't scream. There was a way out. There had to be a way out. Money could buy anything.

He could feel his finger tighten on the trigger as his lips kissed the hot metal of the barrel.

He tried to scream then, but it was too late. There was no time, there was no money, and there was nothing left of his head.

'Are you going to tell me how we bluff our way off the end of this ramp or not?'

Bernice hissed as she and the Doctor made their way, ahead of the tourists and the Landsknechte, down the ramp of the Arachnae Arachnae onto Purgatory. Her breath billowed out before her in the cold, thin atmosphere. onto Purgatory. Her breath billowed out before her in the cold, thin atmosphere.

The s.p.a.ceport was a huge plasticrete plain: one of the many and various hexagon-bounded areas that made up the planet's surface. As the s.h.i.+p descended towards it, Bernice had tried counting the number of lighters, corvettes, frigates, cruisers, Dalekbusters and battles.h.i.+ps that sat divided into squadrons, flights and wings, on the hard pink surface. Some were gleaming and pristine in the hard, cold light of Purgatory's sun, sitting alertly upon insectile legs, but the majority were scarred and singed, old and tired.

'Well, I haven't quite sorted out the details yet,' the Doctor said, not meeting Benny's gaze.

Blaster batteries in fortified pits had tracked the Arachnae Arachnae as it descended, and were still trained upon it. The burnt expanse of plasticrete stretched to the horizon, and beyond. A squad of Imperial Landsknechte, immaculate in black and orange dress uniforms, waited at the bottom of the ramp, holding their plasma rifles at the ready. as it descended, and were still trained upon it. The burnt expanse of plasticrete stretched to the horizon, and beyond. A squad of Imperial Landsknechte, immaculate in black and orange dress uniforms, waited at the bottom of the ramp, holding their plasma rifles at the ready.

'What do you mean, ”haven't quite sorted out the details yet”?'

'They look very fierce, don't they?' he said, indicating the Landsknechte guard.

Bernice felt a rising hysteria. 'I'd hoped that you might have come up with some sort of plan during the journey,' she snapped.

'Of course, you know what they say.'

'I mean, it's not like we can just wander in and ask to look at their records, is it?'

'If it's a yellow alert, they issue them with plasma rifles . . . '60.

'Some sort of cover story is probably required, and I'd like to know what it is!'

'. . . And if it's a red alert, they give them the power packs as well.'

' Now! Now! ' '

He sighed. 'Yes, yes, I know all that,' he scolded, as if he had suddenly heard what she was saying. As they reached the bottom of the ramp, the Landsknechte came to attention. A man in a captain's uniform stepped forward, holding a gene-tester. He was tall and dark-haired, and his skin was a dull, hard sh.e.l.l, like a beetle's carapace.

'Identification?' he said.

The Doctor proffered his right hand. 'I am a plainclothes Landsknechte agent, here on official business,' he said calmly.

The captain ran the gene-tester over the Doctor's hand and glanced at its tiny simcord screen. The tester buzzed faintly. 'It will take a few seconds to check your ident.i.ty,' he said. 'I apologize for the ah yes, that seems to be in order, sir.' His att.i.tude changed markedly. 'If I can be of any a.s.sistance . . . '