Soldier of Fortune: Gideon Quinn Adventures Book One

Chapter 38

Shortly after thirteen o'clock, Nahmin knocked on the door of General Rand's office.

"Come in," Celia's muffled voice called, and Nahmin entered.

Unlike the study, which had been designed for comfort, General Rand's office was all Corps.

Everything—from the plain metal desk, with its teleph and tel-gram machines, to the maps of Fortune pinned to the walls, to the radio station at the back of the room—was utilitarian, if not downright spare.

The only nod to anything approaching luxury was the hot plate and tea station behind the desk.

Nahmin, in his role as General Rand's valet, had been in the room many times before, but in that guise had never shown the least interest in the inner workings of the Corps.

Now, however, he allowed himself to study the maps, which marked with pins and bits of string the latest in troop locations, munitions caches and, most importantly of all, the crystal fields which had been the basis of the ongoing conflict between the Eastern Coalition and United Colonies.

A conflict the Colonies believed at an end.

He looked at Celia, seated at the desk which faced the entrance, digging through Rand's files.

If the Colonies only knew, he thought. "Ma'am," he said, "there was a teleph on the main house line, from the Fourth Precinct. They wanted to let you know Quinn is still at large."

"Imagine my surprise." She brushed a lock of hair from her cheek as she read through a file bearing the Eyes Only stamp.

"How long do you intend to give the police to take care of Quinn?" he asked.

She looked up. "You have doubts of the efficiency of Nike's police force?"

"On the contrary, I have no doubt whatsoever that they will utterly fail to apprehend him."

At that she laughed, and it was a credit to her talents that even that short sounding of amusement could send suggestive tremors all the way through to Nahmin's cold, assassin's core.

"You may be right," she admitted, sliding a few papers from the Eyes Only file she held, and then returning the file itself to the drawer. "But even if they fail, Gideon's criminal record, and the evidence of his current crime, will prevent his taking any effective action against us. Though I admit, I'd relish another confrontation."

Nahmin didn't think she meant the same sort of confrontation he'd have liked. "Assuming, that is, he is working alone," he pointed out. "You'll recall the general's informant in Morton, the one who first alerted us to Quinn's freedom?"

"Finch, yes. What about him?"

"Finch's message indicated Quinn's parole came from high up in the Corps, which indicates at least one member of the military believes there was more to the Nasa incident than previously suspected. Why else set a confessed traitor free?"

"Possible," she allowed. "But even if they have suspicions, there is nothing for them to discover." She pulled a new file out of the drawer. "Jessup, whatever his faults, was meticulous about his work. There isn't a shred of existing evidence that Jessup framed Gideon in Nasa, while everything points to Gideon as Jessup's murderer."

Nahmin had to admit, it seemed quite rational when she said it.

Of course, Celia's particular skill, and what had first brought her to the Midasian spy-master's attention, was her ability to make the unthinkable seem perfectly reasonable in the eyes of her marks.

It was that skill which had Colonial engineers placidly handing over mockups of the latest in weapons' technology during an assignation, airship captains sharing flight plans over a glass of wine, and members of parliament agreeing to a treaty that provided the Coalition states unprecedented access to crystal at one of Celia's cocktail parties.