“I heard about the ambush,” Salvo said quietly. “About Boon. I’m taking into consideration that’s one reason you’re behaving like a wired-out jolt-walker.”
“Big-hearted of you,” Kane replied, with unconcealed contempt. “I want to be in on the woman’s interrogation.”
“What makes you think there’s going to be one?” Salvo made an exaggerated show of leathering his Sin Eater. “Anyway, we’ll see. After our talk.”
“I thought we just had it. Sir.”
“By no means, Kane. By absolutely no bloody means. Follow me.”
Kane fell into step, and they walked down the musty-smelling hallway. Just inside the archway stood a very old man, one of the oldest Kane had ever seen outside of the Pits. His blue eyes were so watery, he looked as if he was preparing to weep.
As Salvo came abreast of the man, he said imperiously, “You’re in on this, too, Lakesh. Alert the others.”
Chapter Seventeen
Kane and Salvo returned to C Level. By the time the elevator deposited them on the division floor, Brigid Baptiste had already been escorted to detention, at the far end of the operation suites.
Kane followed Salvo into his office. “Why are we here?”
Salvo sat down behind his desk. “Where else should we be?”
“Down in Tartarus, putting the arm on Guana Teague. He was behind the ambush, used a little albino tramp with a bogus chip as a lure”
“Drop it, Kane,” Salvo demanded. “Forget Guana.”
“He chilled a Magistrate,” replied Kane hotly. “And tried to chill another. Once word spreads, not a single Mag will be safe in the Pits.”
“I said drop it!” Salvo’s angry bark brooked no debate. “The matter will be dealt with on my terms. You’ve got a very full evening ahead of you.”
“I don’t get you.”
Salvo gestured sharply. “Take off your coat. Remove your side arm.”
Kane didn’t move. “Are you suspending me?”
Spots of red appeared on Salvo’s cheeks. “Do as I say, or you’ll be hoping for something as soft as suspension.”
Kane hesitated, then with deliberate slowness shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the back of the chair. He unstrapped the Sin Eater from him forearm and dropped it with a provocative clunk on the center of the desk.
Salvo made no move to touch it. Inclining his head toward the chair, he said, “Sit.”
Spinning the chair around, Kane thrust it between his legs and straddled it so that he could see the door and Salvo at the same time. “Now what?”
“Now we wait.”
“For whata disciplinary tribunal to convene?”
“Keep your mouth shut and your ears open and you’ll find out.”
They waited. The minutes dragged by like broken-legged turtles. Salvo said nothing. Kane said nothing. His mind was focused on Baptiste, on whether she had really used him or whether the reverse was true. He desperately wanted to talk to her or Grant. Or anybody else but Salvo.
Silence enfolded the office, and not even the familiar sounds of normal division activity seemed to filter in. When the tans-comm unit on the desk warbled, the sound was so unexpected and startling that Kane nearly jumped out of the chair.
Salvo didn’t open the circuit. The unit warbled once more, then fell silent. From the desk drawer, he produced a set of goggles. The plastic lenses were thick and a deep black in color. He stood up. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Where I tell you.”
Kane rose, reaching for his Sin Eater.
Salvo snapped, “Leave it.” When Kane started to pick up his coat, Salvo repeated, “Leave it.”
Kane refused to dog Salvo’s heels, so he fell into step beside him as they strode down the corridor, past the evidence room and the recessed sec door of the armory. When they passed it, Kane almost slowed his pace. All that lay beyond the armory was the detention area. His lips moved in a thin half smile. If Salvo intended to lead him there and expected him to meekly enter a cell, he would receive one of the most painful surprises of his life.
Instead, they turned right down a narrow passage. It dead-ended at a locked service access door. Salvo handed him the goggles. “Put these on.”