Читать книгу South of the Ecliptic - Donald Ph.D. Ladew - Страница 14

They're going where!" Trone's normally remote voice rose to a screech of rage. The agent on the other end of the secure comm-line trembled with apprehension. Even though he was thousands of miles away in Central City, he felt the threads of his future unwind.

Trone took a moment to regain control. "Tell me what you know, every detail."

"Sir, I have a confirmed report from our man on LaGrange III that I.M.S. Wellspring, Captain A.J. Piehl commanding, has jumped from within the safety envelope of LaGrange IV to a location in the rough vicinity of Heara in Beta Crucis.

"The data taken on the Mass Event, even though the ship was cloaked, is accurate to eight figures. They are going direct. There didn't seem to be any effort to disguise their destination. This all took place about fifteen minutes ago, Milord."

Trone was silent for a moment. "Thank you for your prompt report. Your diligence will be rewarded. That is all." Trone had turned the line off before he could hear the man's sigh of relief.

The second shoe had dropped. First he'd had the report on the fiasco at the docking bay. Krasnieven's work, he thought with disgust. By now those people should be dead, instead Krasnieven loses ten men killed, the tracer discovered and the lot of them thoroughly alerted for trouble.

Now this. What else does he know? Why straight toward Haera? Has my network been penetrated? Piehl, I should have killed you years ago when I had the chance.

The computers had forecast it then. He'd programmed them himself and asked a question that was the entire purpose of the program.

"Computer", he'd asked, "given my goals, who are the most dangerous individuals in the Western Arm?” Some of the names had surprised him and some not at all. What had surprised him was how high up on the list Piehl's name had been. At the time Piehl was in Valshorn Prison so he disregarded the information. Others on the list weren't so fortunate.

He sat in the humid atmosphere of the ancient stone and metal room pondering everything he knew about Piehl.

Why did he go to Haera with the Princess Iralane aboard if he knew there might be trouble out that way. The crew is nothing. A Whistler. A retired lush of a Sergeant Major in the Royal Marines. Hmmm, he might be an agent for the King. A Sufic Warrior of the Household Guard. That was natural with the women aboard. His old cell-mate, Flight Major Holtzman. And the women. It doesn't make any sense.

Ahhh, yes. The Junkyard! Of course. He must not be allowed to contact Glass Eyes; that stupid, greedy little man knows too much.

One of Trone's skills was to examine and decide and move on to the next problem. He issued orders to a null-space communications expert and went to the next item of his agenda, the King. Piehl would die where he'd spent most of his life, in space.