carrying it through.
After the classes they had a small lunch, then spent the rest of the afternoon out in the
yard doing exercises and team drills, learning how to react to situations as a group and
how to work together to achieve their objectives. The workout was easy to Jules, after
the regimen he’d had to undergo as a circus performer, but it seemed grueling to his
fellow students and so he pretended to be as tired as any of them when the day was
through and they were fed their dinner. In the evening, there were classes in philosophy
and meditation, to help them reach a state of peace within themselves so that the idea of
mass murder would not seem so horrible. By 2200 hours, everyone was more than
eager to get into bed and sleep.
Jules waited until he was sure everyone else in his barracks was asleep. then stole
outside into the courtyard. He had to discover the location of this place if the Service was
to make a clean sweep of the operation. Earlier in the day, while he’d been exercising. a
breeze had wafted by, carrying with it a slight scent of the sea. He could hear no
breakers, though, so he knew they must be some distance inland. The birds that perched
on the wall were unfamiliar to him, but did not appear to have webbed feet; that wasn’t
much of an indication one way or another, though.
The night was clear, which was a blessing because he could see the stars. He had no
instruments handy and no watch, so he could not even attempt to guess his longitude, but
he could make a rough stab at latitude. He did not know the local constellations, but he
could memorize the configurations of stars closest to the northern and southern horizons.
When he was able to check some star charts at a later time, he’d be able to guess his
approximate latitude-and with that information, plus the knowledge of the flying time in a
copier from Bhangora, plus the knowledge that a seacoast was nearby, SOTE should be
able to track down where this school was. It might take a little bit of effort, but the
Service could muster a lot of resources if it needed them.
His observations completed, Jules started back to the barracks. He heard a noise and
slipped into the deeper shadows as a sentry walked past. The man continued on his way
without seeing anything and, as soon as he was gone, Jules returned to his bunk. With
no indication that anything was amiss or that his absence had been noted, Jules slipped
between the covers and went right to sleep.
The next day started as an exact copy of the one before. After a communal breakfast,
Jules and his barracks mates were taken to a classroom and more instruction was begun
on the philosophy of killing and the techniques the stranglers were to use. Films were
shown depicting actual kills, with the instructor commenting on good and bad points of
the killer’s performances. To Jules, the idea of watching such a film was hideous, but he
sat stony faced along with the others in the class and watched the action unfold before
him.
Halfway through the film, though, there was an interruption as a messenger came into the
room to tell the teacher that Jules was wanted in Jakherdi’s office at once. Wondering
what this obvious change in procedure could mean, Jules accompanied the messenger
back to the administration building.
The secretary who had been in the outer office building yesterday was not there at
present, leaving that room strangely quiet. Jules was instantly on guard against
treachery. The messenger told Jules to go right into the inner office, that he was
expected. Maybe a little too expected, Jules thought as he reached for the doorknob.
He opened the door, but made no immediate move to enter the room; instead, he looked
around inside. Standing directly before him, silhouetted against the window, was
Jakherdi, looking as impressively military as yesterday. On the desk in front of Jakherdi
was a piece of paper that looked like a sketch of a face. Jules didn’t need much intuition
to tell him who the sketch represented.
They certainly work fast up on Vesa, he thought with a mental sigh. Faster than I’d
hoped.
“Come in, Koosman,” Jakherdi said crisply.
There were only two ways to go, forward or back. Even as he ticked off those options,
Jules could feel the rear exit being closed. Some sixth sense told him of the presence of
several people in the corridor outside the anteroom. Any attempt to go out that way
would get him shot before he even reached the door.
Going into the office was the only alternative, and even that had to be a trap. Jules was
sure the camp’s superintendent would have at least one armed man on each side of the
doorway out of view, just waiting for him to step inside. He didn’t know whether the men
had orders to stun or kill, but it made little difference; even if they only captured him now,
they were certain to kill him later-after a shot of nitrobarb, more than likely.
He dared not hesitate. To do so was to reveal that he suspected the trap, in which case
the gunmen would simply step out into view and shoot him instantly. He had no choice but
to enter the trap; the method of entry, however, would be distinctly his own.
“Yes, sir,” he answered aloud, taking the first step inside. “May I ask what the matter
is?.
Then, before any more could be said, Jules acted. As his left foot came down from that
first step, he bent it quickly under him and leaped forward. It was an off balance leap and
he wasn’t able to get as much strength into it as he would have liked-but, coming as a
surprise to the men inside the office, it was effective enough.
Jules landed just in front of the desk on his right leg, still off balance. He used that fact to
advantage, spinning counterclockwise backwards on his right foot quickly off to the right
side of the room. As he spun, he noticed that there were indeed two other men in the
room, one on each side of the doorway, but they were caught flatfooted by his dramatic
entrance. Before they could re-aim their weapons, Jules had braced his feet squarely;
bent the knees and used his superpowerful leg muscles to propel him directly at the
standing form of Jakherdi.
The camp master ducked, which was what Jules had been hoping he’d do. Curling
himself into a ball, Jules tucked his head down and braced himself. His body hit the glass
window like a hundred-kilo cannon ball. The shattering sound threatened to engulf the
entire universe as Jules passed through the shards into the courtyard beyond.
There were a thousand little stings from the glass cuts, but they were mostly on his
hands, the top of his head and the back of his neck-nonlethal places. His face and eyes
had been securely tucked inside. He tumbled as he flew through the air toward the
ground, but it was the controlled tumbling of a skilled aerialist. When he hit ground, he
used the momentum of his flight to roll forward and spring to his feet, preparatory to
running. A quick look around, however, was very discouraging.
The yard was filled with men, all armed with stunners.
They were surprised to see him come hurtling through the superintendent’s window, but
the time it took Jules to come to his feet gave them enough opportunity to overcome their
surprise. They glared at him without emotion, but determination was written in their
stances.
Even though he knew there was no chance against this number, Jules’ spirit did not sag. I
can at least show them that a d’Alembert goes out fighting, he thought, and charged at
the nearest cluster of men.
A number five stunbeam lanced out and dropped him where he stood, and he fell to the
ground in black oblivion.
Jakherdi looked out the hole in his window and gave a tight little smile upon seeing Jules’
unconscious body. “Is he still alive?” he asked his men.
“Yes, sir. He’ll be out for hours, though.
“Good. Tie him up securely. Remember, he’s a DesPlainian and can break out of
ordinary ropes. Make sure he has barely enough room to breathe, then bring him in here
to me. We have to ship him alive up to Vesa for questioning.
I pity you, Koosman or duChamps or whoever you are, the superintendent added silently
to himself. I know Garst and his methods. By the time he’s finished with you you’ll be
begging him for death-only by that time it’ll be far too late.
CHAPTER 12
Secret Assaults
By the time she reached her hotel after her interview with the Marchioness, Yvette