Part 8 (1/2)
”He denied everything.”
”But he only told the truth the first time. He's worked for the Brothers, even though he isn't one himself, and he has some significant information.”
”You never told me you had truthsense,” Illyanov said quietly. ”That is a most useful talent.”
”The subject never came up--but I can't be lied to, never could even as a child. If a question has a yes-or-no answer, it doesn't matter if he tells the truth or not. I'll know.”
”As I said, a most useful talent. Not every Inquisitor can tell truth from lies intended only to stop the pain, and most of us who do have that ability have developed it through long experience.” He smiled at her in a way Shannon sensed was intended to express only approval, but hid a degree of affection the Raidmaster found both disgusting and amusing. ”Go on, then.”
Shannon watched critically as she began work. This would be a short interrogation--despite his bravado, the thief was a coward, and already terrified of the two Inquisitors--but it would tell him whether or not Cortin would make the grade.
The first few minutes left him with no doubt that she would. Oh, she had some problems--the determination not to hurt innocents, as if there were any such thing, was one. Another was giving her prisoner the chance to answer without persuasion, then not wanting to use any more than she had to, though neither surprised him particularly; she had always been overly scrupulous. Which was probably why her primary motive was to extract information rather than to enjoy herself.
It was ironic that she was enjoying herself, and thoroughly, even though it wasn't the same kind of pleasure he experienced in giving pain. For her, the only real pa.s.sion involved here was for justice; criminals caused pain, so it was just to inflict it on them, either as punishment or in the interest of preventing further crime. It was simply more immediate this way than it had been in the past--and it gave her victims the unfortunate opportunity to repent. Even though right now Cortin was concerned with punishment rather than repentance.
Cortin removed the blood-spattered coverall, then went into the suite's small bathroom to wash her hands, feeling dissatisfied. She couldn't quite identify why, though; she had eventually persuaded the thief that she could tell when he was lying to her, and he had finally told them of his contacts within the Brotherhood, giving enough details that those two would be taken into custody next time they appeared in public. Neither theft nor contact with the Brotherhood were capital crimes, so once she'd made sure he knew nothing of Shannon or the horror raids, she'd called the guards and had him taken away for sentencing.
Major Illyanov had said she'd done well, she reminded herself as she put her tunic back on. So why should she feel otherwise? The answer, of course, was that she shouldn't--but the fact remained that she did.
Well, she'd be trying again after lunch, on that trooper who'd gone rogue; maybe she'd do better with him.
Shortly afterward, she and Illyanov entered the Inquisitors' lounge.
The only one there was Mike Odeon, slouched in an armchair with his feet up on a ha.s.sock and what she could only call a positively smug look on his face. It took no effort at all to realize that his phoning had been successful; she grinned, her mood lightening. ”Is it still Captain,” she asked, ”or do I call you 'Father' now?”
”Depends on the circ.u.mstances,” Odeon said, returning her grin lazily.
”Until after the next horror raid, anyway.” He stood, turning to Illyanov with a more sober expression. ”Which you're not to talk about even as a rumor, sir. Colonel Bradford asked me whose deductions I was going by--I suppose he knows my records well enough to be sure they weren't mine--and I'm to tell you the whole thing is rated an all-Systems secret, until King Mark says otherwise.”
”Understood--and I will of course comply.” Illyanov bowed slightly.
”But since I did deduce this much, will you be able to tell me how correct I was?”
”Now that I can do, along with a bit more,” Odeon said, grinning again.
”And our lunch is courtesy of Inquisitor-Colonel Bradford--it should be here any time. If you don't mind, I'd just as soon wait till then to go any further.”
”As you wish.”
Odeon's prediction was correct; their lunch arrived less than half a minute later, and not long afterward, they were eating a meal that might have come from the Royal Palace itself.
All three spent some time in silent enjoyment, then Cortin couldn't hold her curiosity any more. ”How did you do it, Mike?”
”No problem, Joanie--none at all.” Odeon smiled at her. ”I have the feeling he expected my call, though I don't know how he could've. At any rate, I asked about both of us applying, and made what I think was a rather eloquent argument on our behalves. He listened to me, even though I have a sneaky feeling he knew everything I was going to say--then he said we were in, and called me to the Palace for ordination. Our new Commanding Officer is also Bishop of the St.
Thomas Strike Force, it seems.” He grinned. ”If you still want to go to Ma.s.s tomorrow, I'd like you to come to my first one. Even if it will have to be private.”
”I'd be honored,” Cortin said. ”What about my application?”
Odeon laughed. ”Looked at your ID lately, Inquisitor-Captain?” Then he sobered, quickly. ”No, I'm sorry--you're in, Joanie. Probably as a team leader, if you get anything useful out of your first subjects--as team-second, at worst. And we'll be on the same team, whoever's CO.”
He frowned. ”But--Joanie, His Holiness has decreed that all Strike Force Inquisitors be priests, since it's conceivable even a Brother might repent at the last minute and need the sacraments. But you never said anything about having that call.”