The Alembic Plot Part 8

"He denied everything."

"But he only told the truth the first time. He's worked for the Brothers, even though he isn't one himself, and he has some significant information."

"You never told me you had truthsense," Illyanov said quietly. "That is a most useful talent."

"The subject never came up--but I can't be lied to, never could even as a child. If a question has a yes-or-no answer, it doesn't matter if he tells the truth or not. I'll know."

"As I said, a most useful talent. Not every Inquisitor can tell truth from lies intended only to stop the pain, and most of us who do have that ability have developed it through long experience." He smiled at her in a way Shannon sensed was intended to express only approval, but hid a degree of affection the Raidmaster found both disgusting and amusing. "Go on, then."

Shannon watched critically as she began work. This would be a short interrogation--despite his bravado, the thief was a coward, and already terrified of the two Inquisitors--but it would tell him whether or not Cortin would make the grade.

The first few minutes left him with no doubt that she would. Oh, she had some problems--the determination not to hurt innocents, as if there were any such thing, was one. Another was giving her prisoner the chance to answer without persuasion, then not wanting to use any more than she had to, though neither surprised him particularly; she had always been overly scrupulous. Which was probably why her primary motive was to extract information rather than to enjoy herself.

It was ironic that she was enjoying herself, and thoroughly, even though it wasn't the same kind of pleasure he experienced in giving pain. For her, the only real pa.s.sion involved here was for justice; criminals caused pain, so it was just to inflict it on them, either as punishment or in the interest of preventing further crime. It was simply more immediate this way than it had been in the past--and it gave her victims the unfortunate opportunity to repent. Even though right now Cortin was concerned with punishment rather than repentance.

Cortin removed the blood-spattered coverall, then went into the suite's small bathroom to wash her hands, feeling dissatisfied. She couldn't quite identify why, though; she had eventually persuaded the thief that she could tell when he was lying to her, and he had finally told them of his contacts within the Brotherhood, giving enough details that those two would be taken into custody next time they appeared in public. Neither theft nor contact with the Brotherhood were capital crimes, so once she'd made sure he knew nothing of Shannon or the horror raids, she'd called the guards and had him taken away for sentencing.

Major Illyanov had said she'd done well, she reminded herself as she put her tunic back on. So why should she feel otherwise? The answer, of course, was that she shouldn't--but the fact remained that she did.

Well, she'd be trying again after lunch, on that trooper who'd gone rogue; maybe she'd do better with him.

Shortly afterward, she and Illyanov entered the Inquisitors' lounge.

The only one there was Mike Odeon, slouched in an armchair with his feet up on a ha.s.sock and what she could only call a positively smug look on his face. It took no effort at all to realize that his phoning had been successful; she grinned, her mood lightening. "Is it still Captain," she asked, "or do I call you 'Father' now?"

"Depends on the circ.u.mstances," Odeon said, returning her grin lazily.

"Until after the next horror raid, anyway." He stood, turning to Illyanov with a more sober expression. "Which you're not to talk about even as a rumor, sir. Colonel Bradford asked me whose deductions I was going by--I suppose he knows my records well enough to be sure they weren't mine--and I'm to tell you the whole thing is rated an all-Systems secret, until King Mark says otherwise."

"Understood--and I will of course comply." Illyanov bowed slightly.

"But since I did deduce this much, will you be able to tell me how correct I was?"

"Now that I can do, along with a bit more," Odeon said, grinning again.

"And our lunch is courtesy of Inquisitor-Colonel Bradford--it should be here any time. If you don't mind, I'd just as soon wait till then to go any further."

"As you wish."

Odeon's prediction was correct; their lunch arrived less than half a minute later, and not long afterward, they were eating a meal that might have come from the Royal Palace itself.

All three spent some time in silent enjoyment, then Cortin couldn't hold her curiosity any more. "How did you do it, Mike?"

"No problem, Joanie--none at all." Odeon smiled at her. "I have the feeling he expected my call, though I don't know how he could've. At any rate, I asked about both of us applying, and made what I think was a rather eloquent argument on our behalves. He listened to me, even though I have a sneaky feeling he knew everything I was going to say--then he said we were in, and called me to the Palace for ordination. Our new Commanding Officer is also Bishop of the St.

Thomas Strike Force, it seems." He grinned. "If you still want to go to Ma.s.s tomorrow, I'd like you to come to my first one. Even if it will have to be private."

"I'd be honored," Cortin said. "What about my application?"

Odeon laughed. "Looked at your ID lately, Inquisitor-Captain?" Then he sobered, quickly. "No, I'm sorry--you're in, Joanie. Probably as a team leader, if you get anything useful out of your first subjects--as team-second, at worst. And we'll be on the same team, whoever's CO."

He frowned. "But--Joanie, His Holiness has decreed that all Strike Force Inquisitors be priests, since it's conceivable even a Brother might repent at the last minute and need the sacraments. But you never said anything about having that call."

"Because you just told me about it," Cortin said. "It's pretty obvious my primary call is to being a Strike Force Inquisitor; if part of that is taking Holy Orders, I'll do it. And I'll do my best to be a good priest." With a lot of prayers that she never be called on to administer to a Brother that way . . . "Do I need to be ordained right away, or can I take care of this afternoon's subject first?"

"I get the impression he wants us to be ready to go any time, so I'd say you should get in touch with him sometime today. How long do you think this subject'll take you?"

Cortin shrugged. "No real idea, though I don't think he'll be easy."

"I believe you should count on a minimum of several hours," Illyanov said. "Probably no less than a day, perhaps a bit more. He was an Enforcement trooper, after all, and was trained to resist interrogation."

"You've got one of those?" Odeon smiled, wolfishly. "My urge is to tell you to take care of him before you do anything else, but Strike Force business has to come before even that. So I'd recommend you see Colonel Bradford first."

"That's not necessary."

Cortin recognized the "Lieutenant's" voice and and started to rise, but was stopped by his next words. "As you were, gentles--and thank you, Major, for not giving me away." He pulled up a chair and joined them.

"Pleased to be of help, sir." Illyanov managed a seated bow. "I presume you are not here by chance?"

"Not at all, Major." Bradford smiled, the expression making him look years younger. "My interest in Captain Cortin led me to be sure I was informed of her choice of subject, and I wanted to review the films when she was done." He turned to Cortin, still smiling. "I hadn't expected you to choose two, especially not the first time, and especially not ones with so little promise. I've got to compliment you on how well you did with the first one."

Cortin shook her head. "With all respect, sir, I don't think I did that well. I just hope I can do better with the rogue."

"Maybe you can, at that," Bradford said. "As Major Illyanov said, not every Inquisitor can tell truth from lies intended only to stop the pain, and not many of those learn it the first time with a subject; if you can do that already, there's no telling what you'll be able to do with a little experience."

"As I told him, it's something I've had since childhood. I can't claim any special credit."

Bradford chuckled. "You don't have to, as long as it works," he said drily. "It's still a good sign, as is the fact that you enjoy our work from the start. There are those who never do, and they're naturally free to find something else--but I'd imagine you're anxious to get to work again."

"Yes, sir, I am."

"Good." Bradford stood. "In that case, shall we go to the chapel for your Ordination? I'm afraid the secrecy we're under for the time being means it can't be as elaborate as a civilian ordination, but you can be a.s.sured it will be effective."

"I don't doubt it, sir." It didn't seem quite proper to have Ordination without public acknowledgement, but Mike's must have been that way too, and since it obviously didn't bother him, she couldn't let it upset her. "I'm at your disposal."

The brief ceremony over, Bradford returned to the Palace while Cortin, Odeon and Illyanov made their way to the suite where her prisoner waited. It might have been a brief, basic ceremony, Cortin thought, but it was one she would remember for the rest of her life, from the unprecedented sight of an armed Bishop in Enforcement uniform and stole to the anointing of her hands. She rubbed the oil that was still on them. It was hard to believe she was really a priest now, far harder than it had been to believe she was an Inquisitor when she saw the badge in her ID folder--but of course she'd had some preparation for that, where half an hour ago it had never occurred to her that she'd be a priest. As she'd told Mike, though, if she had to be a priest to be a Strike Force team's Inquisitor, so be it. What surprised her was Bradford's acceptance of her necessity; the only explanation she could think of was that the Strike Force needed Priest-Inquisitors badly enough they'd ordain anyone who claimed both vocations. That was unsettling in its own way, but since it served her purpose, she wasn't inclined to argue.

The three entered the suite and went through the routine of getting into coveralls. Odeon wasn't sure why he was there, except that Joanie hadn't asked him to leave and he'd never seen a third-stage interrogation--though he'd both seen and helped in several second-stage ones. He said as much, then continued, "So if you need me to do anything, you'll have to tell me."

"I will," Cortin promised. "I didn't send you away because it didn't occur to me, but I'm certain to need help in the field from time to time, and there's no one I'd rather have backing me. So if you're willing, you should get used to both third-stage and my methods."

"I'm willing--especially," he opened the door to the third-stage room where the prisoner was shackled, waiting, "when the subject's someone like this plaguer. Renegades and Brothers deserve anything an Inquisitor does to them."

"Keep thinkin' that, cull," the prisoner sneered. "You ain't worth the effort it'd take to spit on you. You or that other b.a.s.t.a.r.d, or the b.i.t.c.h."

Cortin looked him over, cooly. He was naked, spreadeagled between chains in the ceiling and eyebolts in the floor, and must know he was completely at the Inquisitor's mercy--but he probably didn't know she was the Inquisitor. With all three of them in coveralls, he had no way of knowing who was who, just that he was faced with two men and a woman.

The Special Ops men who had beaten him had done a fairly professional job, she decided. Not enough to eliminate his defiance, but enough to give her quite a number of tender areas to exploit in addition to the natural ones. She smiled, approaching him and showing him the backs of her hands. "I'm the one you call the Enforcement b.i.t.c.h, rogue. I survived the Brothers' torture, unfortunately for you and the rest of them. Because I intend to return the favor without the mistake, and you will tell me how to find the specific ones who damaged me."

"I'm not tellin' you a d.a.m.n thing, b.i.t.c.h!"

"Wrong, and you know it," Cortin said calmly, beginning the examination that would tell her where his flesh was most sensitive and thus most vulnerable to her persuasion. "You will perhaps tell me less than I wish, but you will tell me as much as you can."

He jerked away as she probed a dark bruise over his ribs. "Like h.e.l.l I will!"