The Backlash Mission

Chapter 40

Anne Silcox was waiting in a faint pool of starlight outside Reger's mansion as the two cars drove up. "The gate guards called and told us you were back," she said as Lathe got out and trudged with the others up the steps. "I was hoping to talk to you—when you have time, of course."

Lathe nodded and took her arm. "Let's go inside," he said. Signaling Skyler to take the others back to their quarters, he led Silcox in the other direction to the quiet and privacy of the main living room.

"Reger told me you were going to try and get inside Aegis Mountain," she said as they sat down on a couch together. "I... did you... meet anyone?"

Lathe rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I'm sorry, Anne, they were all dead when we got there. A couple of months ago, from the looks of things."

She took a deep breath, swallowed visibly. "I didn't lie to you," she said quietly. "I really didn't know where they'd all gone. It wasn't until Reger told me where you'd headed and I had time to think... Did you find out why they were there?"

"Yes and no," he said. "They were manufacturing a drug called Whiplash, but we never figured out what it was supposed to do. Does the name mean anything to you?"

Her eyes seemed to come back from somewhere else. "No, not really," she said dully. "They sometimes talked about Whiplash as a sort of sky-pie breakthrough that was supposed to free Earth from the Ryqril. But of course most of the projects had that as their goal. How... how did they die?"

"They were poisoned by leftover gas from the war." Easing the pack off his shoulders, Lathe leaned back onto the couch and closed his eyes. He was tired—more tired than he could ever remember being since the end of the war itself. So much for retirement, he thought, half bitterly. The last of the blackcollars. Maybe Bernhard was right, after all. Maybe we're the ones throwing our lives away for nothing....

"You realize, I hope, that you're making a mess of my couch."

Lathe opened his eyes. "Hello, Reger. Nice to see you alive."

The other grunted as he sat down in a chair across from them. "Yes, I'm rather pleased to be that way myself."

"Tell me about it."

"About the way Jensen said it would happen," Reger said with an uncomfortable shrug. "Five of them came in, two nights ago, right along the keyhole path and loaded for mountain lion." He shook his head in memory. "I tell you, Lathe, it was the goddamnedest thing I've ever seen. Like shooting cats in a box. They never even had a chance."

Lathe sighed. "If you expect me to be proud about it, you're going to be disappointed. Blackcollars shouldn't die like that."

"But it wasn't your fault, was it?" Silcox frowned. "I mean, it was Jensen who set the death house up and Reger who suckered Bernhard's men into it. You shouldn't feel guilty about it."

"Leaders are responsible for what their men do," Lathe told her. "You'll understand that someday.

Especially now that you're in charge of Torch."

"Me?" She looked startled.

"Who else? Someone's got to rebuild the organization, and you're the most reasonable candidate.

Though if it helps any, you probably won't have to start exactly from level zero. Isn't that right, Reger?"

Reger scratched at his ear. "I don't know, Lathe. You're talking a hell of a lot of risk for not much gain. I'm in this business for the money and power, not to play Quixote for the nobility of it all."

"What about the power that'll be available when the Ryqril are thrown off Earth?" Lathe said.

"You'll be in a clear position to grab some of that when it happens."

"If it happens," the other countered. "You don't have to go through all the arguments again—I remember them well enough. It's just that I don't see a hell of a lot of indication the roaches are busy packing their bags."

"Wait a second," Silcox said. "If you're talking about me linking up with Reger's streetlice operation, you can forget it. I've got higher standards than that."

"You can't afford to be choosy," Lathe told her bluntly.

"What, you think you and Kanai can start things up all by yourselves?"

"Kanai? Who said I was going to take him on, either?"

"Listen to her." Reger snorted. "This is the patriot who's going to lead all of us to freedom? You have to submit a full pedigree to even get in on the revolution."

Silcox glared at him. "I can find more trustworthy teammates than you under the rocks in your yard," she growled. "I may be young and inexperienced, but I'm capable of managing without you, thanks."

Lathe sighed. "Anne, don't be ridiculous. Maybe Reger's current organization won't work, but he's got the contacts and information net to both find the people you need and to pull in all the other data a successful resistance group has to have. You, on the other hand, know more about the basic techniques of undercover operations than he does—and you've got access to the Torch safe houses, where I'd bet heavily there are some duplicate records and material hidden. Kanai, along with his obvious blackcollar training, knows where the back door to Aegis Mountain is if and when you ever find a real use for the place."

"In other words," Reger said heavily, "you're saying that together we're a reasonable team, but singly we're just spinning our wheels. I suppose I agree—but only if all of us have the same goal. You still have to convince me there's something in all of this for me. Spectacular political assassinations are fine in their place, but as a means of throwing the Ryqril off the planet I doubt they're all that effective."

"Who's talking assassinations?" Lathe frowned. "I'm talking operations against Security forces and government installations."

"Yes, and you've proved your point," Reger said. "But remember that you had a whole flock of blackcollars on hand to help you infiltrate Trendor's house—"

"To infiltrate what? Trendor who?"

"He's the former Security prefect you assassinated this evening," Silcox said. "Didn't you even know his name?"

Lathe stared at her, shifted his gaze to Reger. "What are you two talking about? We didn't kill anyone this—"

And suddenly it all clicked. "My God," he whispered. "My God.—Reger give me the details. What exactly happened to this Trendor?"

"He was shot down in his home in the mountains." Reger's face had an odd expression on it, as if he were wondering about Lathe's sanity. "There was a massive laser fire fight in his defense—three of his Security guards were killed in that—but the intruders apparently escaped without anyone else seeing them. Are you saying it wasn't you out there?"

Lathe took a deep breath. "Have your people find out which Security men died in the battle," he told the other. "I'll guarantee you Miro Marcovich will be one of the names."

"You know him?" Silcox asked.

Lathe turned to her. Her face, like Reger's, was wary... but behind the confusion the first hint of understanding was beginning to appear. "Yes," he told her. "We kidnapped him this afternoon to test your friends' Whiplash drug on... and he's Trendor's assassin."

"That's impossible," Reger said. "Security men are loyalty-conditioned to be incapable..."

He trailed off. "My God," he said, very softly.

Lathe let the silence hang in the room for a half-dozen heartbeats. Then, picking up his backpack, he got to his feet. "If you'll excuse me," he said, "I need to go and discuss this development with my men. You two might want to do the same, perhaps concentrating on the best ways to get Torch revitalized."

Silcox took a deep breath and looked across at Reger. "Not Torch," she said quietly. "Phoenix. A

living torch, revived from its own ashes."

Reger nodded thoughtfully. "Silly, really. But I suppose that kind of symbolism is important to such a group's morale." He hesitated, looked up at Lathe. "On your way out, Comsquare, would you mind asking Commando Kanai to join us?"

Lathe smiled faintly. "I'd be glad to."