Silver Master

Chapter 4

HE HATED THIS GREEN HELL, BUT IT WAS THE PERFECT HIDing place for the gun. He pushed it inside the small grotto and covered it with a few leaves and palm fronds. The foliage was green, but not the natural-looking green you saw on the surface. Everything down here in the underground rain forest was a weird shade of iridescent green, like the luminous quartz that had been used to construct the catacombs. Even the artificial sunlight was an eerie green.

It wasn’t just the colors in the jungle that were strange. Most of the flora and fauna bore a vague resemblance to the plants and wildlife on the surface of Harmony, but down here evolution, modified by the underground environment, alien engineering, and the constant presence of a lot of ambient psi had produced several startling twists and turns.

The experts theorized that the aliens had engineered the belowground ecosystem because the one aboveground was toxic to their kind. It was clear that the aliens had never been at home on the surface of Harmony. They had evidently lived most of their lives in the vast maze of tunnels and chambers they had built beneath the surface. When they had fashioned cityscapes aboveground, they had surrounded them with massive green quartz walls. It was believed that the psi energy given off by the quartz and by something here in the jungle had been an antidote to whatever it was that had been dangerous to them aboveground.

He surveyed his handiwork and was satisfied. The gun was well-concealed, but it would be easily available if he needed it again in the future.

He hurried quickly through a stand of tall fern trees. It made him nervous to get out of eyesight of the gate. He had an amber-rez compass with him, but they were not infallible down here where vast currents of psi energy called ghost rivers could distort the delicate devices. He had a great fear of getting lost in the jungle.

The hot, humid atmosphere was almost smothering. It would rain soon.

A large green bird took flight directly in front of him, startling him so badly he cried out. The creature flapped madly, shrieking its annoyance, and then disappeared into the heavy green canopy overhead.

The constant din of birdcalls and mysterious rustlings in the undergrowth rattled his nerves. He was terrified of snakes and insects. While thus far no species down here had been identified as lethal to humans, that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. Exploration of the jungle had barely begun. The Guilds were still in the process of trying to find the special kind of psi talents who could open gates to the rain forest. To date only a handful had been discovered.

The gate he used was not one that had been opened under the auspices of the Guild. It was not listed on any official chart. The six-foot-tall hole had been created for him by one of his street clinic patients who happened to possess the unusual type of para-rez talent needed to access the rain forest. The junkie had suffered a most unfortunate overdose once he had finished the job. But what could you expect of an addict?

He hurried through the opening, breathing easier once he was outside in the green quartz corridor. It always amazed him that nothing from the rain forest followed him through the gate. There was not so much as a stray leaf or twig or insect on the glowing green floor of the tunnel. The gates all seemed to generate invisible and, to most humans, undetectable energy barriers that kept the jungle contained.

He walked quickly toward a quartz staircase, adjusting the cuffs of his immaculately tailored white shirt. Even if the police did somehow manage to connect him to the shooting and even if they figured out that he had concealed the weapon in the rain forest, they would never be able to find it. There was no way it could ever be used as evidence against him in a court of law.

Of course, that still left the Cadence Guild. Alvis Shaw had warned him that Mercer Wyatt had hired an investigator to search for the relic. It was no secret that the Guilds did not always feel it necessary to honor the legal niceties when it came to hunting down those who stole from their vaults.

But he was safe. He had been careful. And he was infinitely more intelligent than any Guild man.

Nevertheless, he now had a serious problem. Things had gone terribly wrong last night. He was a brilliant para-psychiatrist, an expert on reading people, but for some reason he simply hadn’t expected a low-end, drug-addicted thief like Alvis Shaw to double-cross him. The bastard had actually threatened to set up an auction and sell the relic to the highest bidder. He’d had no choice but to kill Shaw. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t intended to get rid of him anyway, once he took possession of the relic.

The realization that he had a disaster on his hands had hit when he searched the dying man. Shaw hadn’t had the relic on him.

Even as Shaw lay dying, his blood running across the alley bricks, the bastard had laughed.

“Hid it in the antique shop last night. Seemed like the perfect place. Didn’t think anyone would notice it, not with all that other junk piled around it. But it’s gone. You’re screwed, man. You’ll never find it now.”

He had torn the antique shop apart, hoping that Shaw had lied to him when he had claimed that the relic was gone. But in the end he had been forced to conclude that the thief had told him the truth.

He had no choice now. Against his own professional judgment he would have to use another patient from the street clinic. The man he had in mind was a former ghost hunter who had been badly psi-burned and was now heavily medicated. The patient was extremely fragile, but that condition had the advantage of making him easier to control than Shaw had been.

He climbed the staircase, aware that he was still shivering. It was a perfectly normal reaction to a highly stressful situation, he assured himself. He was a doctor. He should know.