star of countless stories in the intelligence community. Most of the stories were undoubtedly false, but not all. Magdalena found out whatever she wanted to find out.
Kaufman shifted uncomfortably. For the first time, he noticed that three more people had gotten out of Magdalena’s skimmer. Two augmented, genemod men who could be nothing but bodyguards, and a native child. A child? What was Magdalena doing with a native child? And why hadn’t he, Kaufman, noticed the three before this minute? He was trained to notice things.
He knew the answer. Magdalena. She was probably in her fifties, her face had wrinkled a bit, her eyes were colder than almost any soldier Kaufman had dealt with. Yet her body was still spectacular and, more important, she still had the magnet, whatever that powerful thing was that surged sexual vibrations around one woman and not another. Magdalena in person had more of it than any other woman Kaufman had ever met. He was ashamed of himself for feeling what he was feeling. Also, there was no chance that Marbet would not know it.
He said, to say something rational, “Why are you looking for Amanda?”
She turned those extraordinary eyes on him, and again he felt her amusement. She knew.
“I need her in order to find my son.”
Whatever Kaufman had expected, that wasn’t it. He repeated stupidly, “Your son?”
“Yes. Whoever kidnapped Dr. Capelo is also holding my son, Laslo Damroscher.”
To Kaufman’s ear, Magdalena said this in the same level, husky voice (ignore the undertone of that huskiness!) in which she’d said everything else. But evidently Marbet heard a difference. Her invisible cat’s fur relaxed, and she looked at Magdalena with no more than her usual keen alertness.
Kaufman said, “This doesn’t really seem the place to discuss it. Shall we go with Dieter to this village he named?”
Gruber, forgotten until this moment, made a gesture Kaufman couldn’t decode. Magdalena said pleasantly, “Couldn’t wait to come dashing out here to warn them about me, could you, Dieter? Fortunately, Essa here overheard Ann on the comlink. She told me what was going on.”
The native child, who looked just pubescent, darted forward and threw her arms around Gruber’s knees. He backed off and tried to dislodge her, an act Kaufman instinctively sympathized with. But the child, a skinny girl with bright black eyes and brown neckfur, hung on, babbling in World. Her skull ridges crinkled with emotion. Kaufman looked at Marbet.
“Essa is begging Dieter’s pardon,” Marbet translated: “I’m not really fluent yet, but I think she’s saying Pek Magdalena offered her something wonderful to tell Magdalena things … I’m not sure … to tell her everything … she offered … you didn’t .”
This last was addressed, flatly, to Magdalena, who merely shrugged. Marbet and Gruber looked appalled. Kaufman, the only non-speaker of World, said irritably, “What? What did she offer the girl?”
Marbet said in English, “A ride in her spaceship to other worlds. Magdalena, you know that’s not possible.”
“More things are possible to me than you think. And why not? She’s an enterprising kid.”
“You lied to her.”
“Maybe not.”
Kaufman could see that Magdalena was enjoying this fencing and Marbet was not. Gruber had succeeded in peeling the child off himself. She now stood beside Magdalena, and Kaufman had the uneasy feeling they were alike in some way he couldn’t name. He tried to get things back on track.
“Marbet and I are going to the village. Gruber, can you lead us there?”
“No need,” Magdalena said. “There’s room in my skimmer for you both. Gruber can follow on his bike.”
“I’ll ride with Dieter,” Marbet said, and Magdalena grinned.
Kaufman had been left with no choice. He didn’t know the territory. He climbed into Magdalena’s skimmer, followed by the silent, robot-like bodyguards. What exactly were they genemod for?
No matter. His
Kaufman shifted uncomfortably. For the first time, he noticed that three more people had gotten out of Magdalena’s skimmer. Two augmented, genemod men who could be nothing but bodyguards, and a native child. A child? What was Magdalena doing with a native child? And why hadn’t he, Kaufman, noticed the three before this minute? He was trained to notice things.
He knew the answer. Magdalena. She was probably in her fifties, her face had wrinkled a bit, her eyes were colder than almost any soldier Kaufman had dealt with. Yet her body was still spectacular and, more important, she still had the magnet, whatever that powerful thing was that surged sexual vibrations around one woman and not another. Magdalena in person had more of it than any other woman Kaufman had ever met. He was ashamed of himself for feeling what he was feeling. Also, there was no chance that Marbet would not know it.
He said, to say something rational, “Why are you looking for Amanda?”
She turned those extraordinary eyes on him, and again he felt her amusement. She knew.
“I need her in order to find my son.”
Whatever Kaufman had expected, that wasn’t it. He repeated stupidly, “Your son?”
“Yes. Whoever kidnapped Dr. Capelo is also holding my son, Laslo Damroscher.”
To Kaufman’s ear, Magdalena said this in the same level, husky voice (ignore the undertone of that huskiness!) in which she’d said everything else. But evidently Marbet heard a difference. Her invisible cat’s fur relaxed, and she looked at Magdalena with no more than her usual keen alertness.
Kaufman said, “This doesn’t really seem the place to discuss it. Shall we go with Dieter to this village he named?”
Gruber, forgotten until this moment, made a gesture Kaufman couldn’t decode. Magdalena said pleasantly, “Couldn’t wait to come dashing out here to warn them about me, could you, Dieter? Fortunately, Essa here overheard Ann on the comlink. She told me what was going on.”
The native child, who looked just pubescent, darted forward and threw her arms around Gruber’s knees. He backed off and tried to dislodge her, an act Kaufman instinctively sympathized with. But the child, a skinny girl with bright black eyes and brown neckfur, hung on, babbling in World. Her skull ridges crinkled with emotion. Kaufman looked at Marbet.
“Essa is begging Dieter’s pardon,” Marbet translated: “I’m not really fluent yet, but I think she’s saying Pek Magdalena offered her something wonderful to tell Magdalena things … I’m not sure … to tell her everything … she offered … you didn’t .”
This last was addressed, flatly, to Magdalena, who merely shrugged. Marbet and Gruber looked appalled. Kaufman, the only non-speaker of World, said irritably, “What? What did she offer the girl?”
Marbet said in English, “A ride in her spaceship to other worlds. Magdalena, you know that’s not possible.”
“More things are possible to me than you think. And why not? She’s an enterprising kid.”
“You lied to her.”
“Maybe not.”
Kaufman could see that Magdalena was enjoying this fencing and Marbet was not. Gruber had succeeded in peeling the child off himself. She now stood beside Magdalena, and Kaufman had the uneasy feeling they were alike in some way he couldn’t name. He tried to get things back on track.
“Marbet and I are going to the village. Gruber, can you lead us there?”
“No need,” Magdalena said. “There’s room in my skimmer for you both. Gruber can follow on his bike.”
“I’ll ride with Dieter,” Marbet said, and Magdalena grinned.
Kaufman had been left with no choice. He didn’t know the territory. He climbed into Magdalena’s skimmer, followed by the silent, robot-like bodyguards. What exactly were they genemod for?
No matter. His
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