The Ramal Extraction by Steve Perry

magicians to stay with it.
    And the scout? Cutter would also bet big that he’d been told to keep track of things and to be ready to talk about it if the Rajah asked. But that would be later.
    “It’s a promising lead, sir, but I didn’t want to be precipitous. Strategic and tactical information is best kept close to the chest. It is hard to let something accidentally slip if a man has no knowledge of it.”
    The Rajah sipped his tea. “I understand. But you feel that this is a promising lead.”
    “There are a lot of promises in the recycle bins of history, sir. There seems to be little point in waving them around unless they deliver.”
    The Rajah nodded. He put his teacup down and looked directly at Cutter. “She is my daughter, Colonel. You would not be here if I was not greatly concerned for her safety.”
    “I understand, sir. And you would not have hired us ifwe didn’t have a reputation for doing everything possible to address your concerns properly.”
    The Rajah sighed. Yes. He knew that Cutter wasn’t going to tell him the details. Perhaps the walls here had ears that belonged to somebody not as concerned with the missing girl’s safety. There was no benefit in risking that. The Rajah was canny enough to know that even if he didn’t like it.
    “We will keep you informed of any significant progress, sir.”
    “Thank you, Colonel.”

    On his way back to his compound, Cutter got a call. He grinned at the caller’s ID.
    “Cutter here.”
    “Colonel, this is Colonel Hatachi.”
    “Good evening to you, sir.”
    “Not really. You have any idea how much your little stunt cost me in man- and machine-hours?”
    Cutter grinned. He was good with numbers. He could probably come up with a pretty decent estimate. And he could have pretended he didn’t know what Hatachi was talking about, but that would have been insulting, and there was no need for that.
    “Sorry, sir, but our job wasn’t being made any easier with your people standing so close. You stick your nose up somebody’s butt, you might not like what you smell.”
    Hatachi chuckled. “Point taken, Colonel. My sergeant wants to line you all up and shoot you, but he got suckered, so he has to live with it. But be advised, we won’t be so easy to gully again.”
    “Understood, sir. I appreciate your position and only ask that you try to appreciate ours.”
    “As long as you don’t make too much noise or burn anything down, we’ll stand back a ways. But if you step crooked, we will come down on you like a ton of rock.”
    “I wouldn’t expect anything else, Colonel.”
    “Good evening.”
    “And to you.”

    “Stand by,” Jo subvocalized.
    They had spread out and arrived at a small rise in the vicinity of the lodge, and to outward appearance, there was nothing to indicate any problems.
    With the lights from the main building damping the spookeyes, Jo couldn’t see the others though she knew where they were supposed to be.
    The lodge was constructed of logs stripped of bark, laser-planed to a consistent size, and trimmed and finished with some kind of wood preserver. Large enough to house thirty people in private rooms, the interior belied the exterior—the appliances, communications, and comforts were as modern as any to be found in the planet’s cities. There were half a dozen fireplaces, but they were for show; the heating and cooling plants were state-of-the-art. There were lights that could be made to flicker and look like candles, but they ran off solar batteries. It was fake rustic, animal heads mounted on the walls, designed to offer the illusion of a bygone time, to make visitors think they were roughing it.
    The team had memorized the floor plans, seen the computer sims, knew the layout.
    There were enough exterior lights to show the trimmed lawn surrounding the lodge. There were two guards patrolling the lawn, men with carbines. They weren’t in any kind of uniform but dressed for the weather, which was chilly, given the