“How do you know this?” Franz demanded. The front seat was wide enough for three slim people, but there was nothing for him to hold onto. The slick fabric cover had him sliding into one officer, then the other.
“She used Bridge to penetrate the municipal data banks,” Ran explained. “It was long odds they’d cleared the business with their tame law, just to avoid accidents.”
“Nope,” said Wanda with a smile. “It was easier than that. The kidnappers called her father, the minister, and I back-traced the call to the Humboldt ranch. Then I checked the records office.”
Ran grimaced. “How did Lin react?” he asked. “I suppose they want him to turn over all his data to get his daughter back.”
“Probably,” Wanda agreed, “but I didn’t let the call through. Bridge’ll keep noting a fault until somebody removes the block I put on.”
She turned and leaned forward to be able to catch Ran’s eyes. “This is going to be a real embarrassment if things don’t work out,” she added. “Though I don’t suppose we’ll have to worry about answering questions.”
Ran nodded grimly.
Wanda pulled off the road as soon as she was beyond the slaughterhouses and their waste dumps, lethal pit-traps in the growing darkness. They continued cross-country at 30 kph, a moderate speed under any other circumstances.
The young Grantholmer’s face was set in a hawklike expression in the instrument lights. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“Just out of the way,” Ran explained. “We don’t want too many people watching the rendezvous. Some of them might guess what was going on.”
A great beast with wrinkled skin and tusks like shovels loomed up in the driving lights. Wanda wrenched the steering wheel hard, but the animal blatted and fled. The tuft of white hair on its tail wobbled like a flag in the beams’ side-scatter.
“Ah—Franz?” Ran said. He barely avoided saying “boy” instead of using the youth’s name. “You should maybe opt out of this one.”
Streseman looked at him. “Of course not,” he said crisply. “This is properly my affair, as a man, as a—as a lover, of course. You are the ones who are going beyond what could be expected of your duty.”
“It’s just possible Commander Kneale would feel that way,” Wanda murmured. “He’s not the sort to second-guess his people, though.”
“What I mean, Franz . . .” Ran said. He rocked forward in his seat as Wanda braked to avoid a straggling line of cattle, their eyes flaring red in the headlights. “What I meant is, now that we know it’s Grantholmers who’ve grabbed Oanh.”
“You assumed that, surely?” the youth said coolly. “I’ve never claimed that all my fellow-countrymen are saints. We have thieves, have murderers; have kidnappers. All the more reason for me to wish to right this wrong.”
“The people who did this,” Ran continued deliberately, “are going to think of themselves as patriots. And so will a lot of people back on Grantholm if they learn about it.”
Franz shrugged. “Stresemans have never been afraid to support the right,” he said. “Even when it was unpopular.” He was as matter-of-fact as if he’d been discussing the scarlet sunset.
Ran sighed. It must be nice to be so certain about right and wrong. “Were you able to find me a long gun?” he asked Wanda.
“Sorry,” she said. “The armory only has pistols and submachine guns. But we’ll be at close range, won’t we?”
“Who knows?” Ran said. His palms were beginning to feel cold. Until now, he’d been too focused on each next step to worry. “Yeah, I suppose. Maybe a submachine gun, that’ll be all right. But I’m no good with short guns.”
“Your training was only with rifles?” Franz asked curiously. He seemed perfectly calm.
“There wasn’t any training,” Ran explained. “I’m from Bifrost. I was a hide hunter before I ran off on a tramp freighter.”
He grimaced. “I hated it,” he said. He laced his fingers together. “But at the margin of profit on a shagskin or even a sleen, I couldn’t afford to miss. And with a rifle, I don’t.”
“I see,” said the youth. He frowned. “How much farther do we drive, then?” he asked.