The ride to his hotel was uneventful, and escorted by Daniel Truman's own corporate guards. Despite the assurances of the driver of his car, Kyle had no doubt he and his group had somehow been followed. He'd seen how much interest the Knight Errant guards around Truman Tower had shown in watching their little motorcade of three cars form up.
He was sure Knight Errant would not delay in responding to Daniel Truman's decision to take matters into his own hands. When Kyle had told Truman that he'd discovered Mitchell's location, the man hadn't hesitated even a heartbeat in telling Kyle to take care of it. Then he and his wife had walked slowly out of the room, Truman with the air of someone who'd lost what was most precious to him. He didn't understand everything that was going on, least of all the nature of what had destroyed his son, but he wanted some kind of retribution, some kind of justice. Kyle was more than willing to oblige him.
To do so meant taking action, and fast, but Kyle was reluctant to call on Knight Errant for help. Not only did they seem to have their own agenda, but the organization's forces, at least those he wanted to deal with, were almost exclusively trained for site protection, not field work. That left only one choice in Kyle's mind, a force that was standing and ready, and probably more man willing to jump at the bidding of Truman Technologies-the Chicago law enforcement organization, Eagle Security.
At the moment, Kyle knew only the vague direction and distance of Mitchell's location: north, farther man North Avenue, but not as far as Poster. He left Hanna to contact Eagle and to use all the political clout Truman had to get them moving, fast. Kyle suggested a staging area in the vicinity of North and Western. He'd meet them there after retrieving some things still at his hotel.
At the Marriott, the staff was all sweetness and light as he asked for access to his security strongbox. One of the managers led him to the secure area and then went to retrieve the box, but only after Kyle had him repeat the password three times to be sure he got it right. He did, and returned with the box a few minutes later. The man handed it over without a word, though Kyle thought the single bead of sweat running down from his temple statement enough.
Kyle let the box scan his thumb print and retinal pattern before keying in the special code to open the box. About the size of a briefcase, but much deeper, the box had a simple latching lid that lifted completely off. Inside, Kyle found his magical accessories still wrapped in black silk and velvet, exactly as he'd left them.
There were two metal bracelets braided from heavy wires of silver, copper, and the mystical metal orichalcum. Kyle slipped one around each wrist Over the middle and next fingers of his left hand he slid silver rings set with a diamond and sapphire, respectively. On his right hand in like positions he put on silver rings, one set with a ruby and one with an emerald. Around his neck and under his clothing he hung an amulet made of golden-coppery metals and dominated by a large opal. And finally, he placed an ornate silver and orichalcum bladed knife, inlaid with jewels of all kinds and designed in the Egyptian style, into a custom black leather sheath that fit under the arm not girded with his shoulder holster. Feeling overburdened and somewhat foolish, he headed up to his room.
“The hotel assures me that the scrambling on my line is about the best that money can buy," Kyle told Dave Strevich.
“I’m it is," Strevich said. "My system says yours is saying the right things, but that doesn't mean I'm going to answer any questions."
"I’m switching to encryption now." Kyle leaned forward, typing the command into the keyboard. Strevich's image blurred as the man cursed, and it remained distorted and unviewable for a few moments until he put his system into like mode and the two machines had agreed on how to talk to each other. When the image returned, it was no longer three-dimensional and it lacked color fidelity, but Kyle had no doubt that for a short while at least the signal was indecipherable.
"You insist on getting into trouble, don't you?" Strevich said. "Do you have any idea how many alarms your actions in Chicago are setting off?"
"I can imagine," Kyle said. "All things considered."
Strevich's eyes narrowed. "The drek's gonna hit the pavement real soon now. The suits upstairs aren't happy with Knight Errant's activities in Chicago, despite the fact that they're real friendly with Ares Macrotech these days."
"Why not?" Kyle asked innocently. "Knight Errant hasn't done anything wrong."
"Don't play dumb, Kyle."
"I wouldn't have to if you'd given me the scan straight up."
"I couldn't. Still can't, you know that."
"Tell me about the bugs," Kyle said.
Strevich's face hardened. "Jam it, Kyle."
"Tell me about the true forms."
Strevich didn't answer.
"Tell me about the flesh forms."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Dammit, Dave, you're leaving me disconnected here! You've got to tell me something."
"I don't have to do anything of the kind. The problem is being addressed, in our own way. It takes time, but we're handling it."
"Really?" said Kyle, the word coming out a little harsher than he'd intended. "It doesn't look that way from here."
"Walk away, Kyle," Strevich said. "You still can. When the big red, white, and blue scooper comes along to clean up all the drek, it's going to scrape you up too if you're not careful."
"No."
"Walk away. Take Beth and Natalie on a vacation," Strevich told him. "Stop worrying about everything. Watch some simsense."
"You're frizzed."
Strevich spoke in a very deliberate manner, seeming to choose his words very carefully. "I saw an interesting sim the other night. Story was unbelievable, but the effects were wizzer. You'd almost swear it was real."
Kyle eyed him suspiciously. "Do you remember the name?"
"Nah," Strevich said. "I didn't see it from the beginning, but it was by that simsense chica. The one that Bettleman liked when we were all at Quantico for extended weapons training that time. Remember?"
Kyle nodded. It was years ago, but he drought he did.
"Anyway," Strevich went on, "you should sense it. Real wiz. Real hype. I think it was her last one."
"I'll try and find it." Kyle recalled the simsense star Strevich was talking about, a beautiful dark-haired girl named Euphoria. Kyle wasn't a big simsense fan, but he remembered her. He had no idea which sim Strevich was talking about, though. Or why he was going on about it at me moment.
"Good," Strevich told him. "You do that, and I'll talk to you some other time."
Kyle nodded, still suspicious. "Later."
Strevich waved, and then disconnected. Kyle stared at the blank screen a moment, then switched the telecom system over to me hotel's own entertainment library. According to the information he'd seen, it contained thousands of new, hot, and classic simsense programs on demand for immediate viewing. He keyed in the name "Euphoria" and requested a list of her titles in the system. He had a feeling that if Strevich had been trying to tell him something, he'd know as soon as he saw the title. He never quite got the chance to see the list.
"It's called Against the Hive," came a woman's voice behind him.
Kyle threw himself forward violently and then kicked himself sideways beyond an oversized chair and down to the floor behind it. He came up quickly, Ceska vz/120 pistol in one hand, jeweled knife in the other, and half a dozen combat spells flooding his mind.
The woman was crouched low to the floor, one hand across her knee and the other on the, floor for balance. Even as she was, Kyle could tell she was tall, with shoulder-length black hair and bright silver-blue eyes that reflected the window light back at him. She wore black leather pants, a tight, midriff-revealing black leather halter top, and a long-sleeved green leather jacket. When she smiled, Kyle felt more than a little fear. She was painfully beautiful, and he had little doubt who she was.
Her bright, unblinking gaze locked with his. "Apparently, some lucky simsense producer happened to be in the right place at the right time and got footage of Knight Errant attacking a real ant spirit hive. Saved them quite a bit of money on special effects, I'd say.”
"Of course, why present the truth when you can make money selling it as fiction?" she said, standing up slowly, gracefully unfolding herself. "Not that anyone would have believed it"
"Please don't come any closer," Kyle said.
"I don't intend to. I was simply tired of crouching there."
Kyle clenched the pistol tighter and risked slipping his perception into astral space. Her aura was powerful, and odd. Its shape didn't seem to match that of the body she wore. She smiled again, and he willed his foci to life, mentally triggering the final mystical connections that empowered them. He felt the energy, the potential, arise within him as each activated in turn.
Linda Hayward stopped smiling, tensing slightly as she eyed the additions to his now unmasked aura.
He stood up carefully too, but with none of her otherworldly grace. He holstered his pistol, freeing up his hand. The knife remained drawn, but held loosely at his side.
"There," he said, as casually as he could, "thought I'd balance things out a bit."
"You are an initiate," she said.
Kyle nodded. "For some time now."
"I'm impressed." She smiled a little. "Preening for me?"
"Hardly," he told her, "since I know what you really look like."
"No," she said gravely, "you don't."
"Really?"
"I'm not at all like those things you fought at the hospital."
"No?”
She laughed, almost sadly. "I didn't take you for a monosyllabic mutterer, Mr. Teller. But your kind frequently disappoint." She looked directly at him. "Would you like me to show you what I truly am?"
"Not particularly," he said. "There, I said two words. Happy?"
"Rarely," she said. "But I think you need to be shown."
Kyle raised his blade and held it across his chest.
"Don't worry," she told him. "I'll stay over here." And she changed. Gone was her human form, in its place a giant glistening green and black insect, taller than Kyle, but lighter of build with a long, thin body and delicate legs that were almost as long. She'd become a powerful and majestic praying mantis. When she smiled, Kyle felt an almost overpowering wave of desire rush over him. He braced his body and spirit against her as she resumed her human form.
"Sorry," she said. "An instinctive reaction."
"So, you're a different kind of bug."
She winced and seemed sad again. "Mantid, if you must, Mr. Teller. And though you won't believe me, we're actually on the same side."
"Tell Mitch Truman that."
Her eyes hardened, and Kyle felt another emotion wash over him, this one far different from the last. He took an involuntary step backward and choked back the little food in his stomach as it rose.
"I did, and he believed me," she told him.
"That," Kyle said, "I find hard to believe."
"I and my sisters are not responsible for what happened to Mitchell Truman. We are enemies of the ones you seek, the ones who have him."
"Then tell me what happened."
"I'll tell you enough to send you on your way and leave all this to us."
"People keep telling me that, and I haven't listened yet."
She laughed. "You should."
"Go on."
"Generally, I and my kind find yours to be shallow, weak, ill-mannered, fearful, and devoid of worth," she told him. "We come here when the level of magic is right so that we can breed. We come here because there is more space. There are too many of us back home."
"So, don't breed."
"Ah, but Mr. Teller, it's what we do best." She winked, and Kyle began to feel a strange sensation of warmth.
"Those that you saw in the hospital, and perhaps later, use humanity as cattle. They see the possibility of using human flesh as humanity's only redeeming feature."
"Don't tell me you're different," Kyle said. "Mantids often eat their mates, if I remember my biology right."
"From consumption comes new life," she told him.
"Did Mitch know about that part?"
"He did," she told him, "but he was safe."
"Oh?"
She nodded. "I discovered, much to my own dismay, that when it came time to invest him with a male spirit I did not want to. I had grown too fond of him."
When Kyle said nothing, it seemed to make her angry. "I really don't care what you think. I'm here to tell you to stop interfering. The queens took Mitch from us so that they could learn what forms we took and what our plans were. The queens destroyed Mitchell Truman, and I intend to destroy them for it."
"The queens?"
"Think about it," she said.
"If they, whoever they are, and not you, did that to him in the first place, why would they want to grab him back? His mind was gone. There was nothing they could learn from him."
"I don't think they knew that," she told him. "I think he refused to talk. I think he wouldn't tell them about us or where we could be found." Her voice became sad and quiet for a moment.
"That was stupid. He should have told them." He watched her, surprised in some ways at how human she seemed. "When he wouldn't betray us, they tried to possess him. They tried to invest him with one of their own larvae spiritis, hoping the merge would be good and his memories would be relatively intact. Then he would be theirs and they'd know everything they needed to know."
"He tried to meet with his sister the night he was found with his mind gone."
Her head tilted oddly. "Really? I didn't know that. Perhaps he broke free and they tried to invest him as punishment."
"But why grab him again?"
"They may not have known the final outcome," she said. "In fact, they probably assumed he'd retained his mind. How else could he have run away again?”
"Indeed," Kyle said.
"I saw him after the police found him, at the first hospital. There were fragments of his mind still there. Tiny twisted flames sputtering in the darkness. He actually seemed to recognize me. I doused the fragments so that he might rest."
"How kind of you."
She grew angry again. "Yes, actually. Uncommonly kind of me. I think he resisted the investiture and fled, his mind unraveling and disintegrating as he did. I gave him release." Again Kyle said nothing.
She paused, seeming to be gathering up her composure. "I've told you why I came here. You have no need to pursue Mitch's flesh body. They probably ate it once they found his mind was gone. Perhaps they even tried another investiture into the empty host. I don't know. The point is, your concerns and the Truman family's concerns are at an end. I will avenge Mitchell Truman."
"I'll pass on your message."
"You do that," she said. "And remember, Mr. Teller, you and your kind are mine whenever I want you. And want you I will if you get in my way again." With that she turned and passed through the door without opening it.
Kyle stood there blankly for a few moments and then sat down slowly in the chair that had been positioned between him and Linda Hayward. He knew he had to center himself and calm his body. It took a long time.