"The goddamned Bitch is still alive, Raidmaster."
Lawrence Shannon looked up from the shabby table he was using as a
desk, smiling as one of his doubles threw a newspaper down in front of
him. "Yes, excellent. Thank you, James."
"Excellent!" the double snarled. "I said she's alive!"
"You weren't mumbling," Shannon assured him. "If I'd wanted to kill
her then, I would have. I chose to let her live for now, maimed and
crippled; that will make it all the more satisfying when I do decide to
kill her." He smiled in a way that made his double flinch. "Isn't it
better to have her alive and in pain than dead and free of it? Doing
something of the sort to her was my purpose in leading that raid, after
all."
"But I thought--"
"Yes, I know." Shannon raised his hand, silencing the other. "For you
Brothers, the hospital was the target; for me, Cortin was. We both
accomplished our objectives, without casualties and with bonuses. I
also warned you from the beginning not to question my motives. I use
my powers on your behalf because our desires generally coincide and
your help is convenient, not because you are necessary to me."
"You've made that clear often enough," the double admitted. "If I had
your powers, though, I'd wipe out the Church, the aristocracy, and
Enforcement so we could rebuild from scratch."
"Which is precisely what you would be doing." Shannon chuckled at the
man's turn of phrase. "But there's a much more artistically satisfying
way of accomplishing the same end--one which will also increase their
suffering many-fold. Would you deny me that little pleasure?"
"Not me, Raidmaster!" the double exclaimed hurriedly, his face paling.
Shannon was normally a charming man, polite and undeniably attractive,
his blue eyes and wide smile almost irresistible--but the double had
seen what happened to a Brother who cut short Shannon's enjoyment of a
priest's slow death, and the memory still sickened him.
"Good." Shannon read his subordinate's discomfort, and projected
encouragement. "You really must learn to control your sympathy for the
oppressors, James. Our work is difficult enough without that."
The Raidmaster smiled again, and this time his double relaxed. "Damn
straight! It just seems so slow!"
"Anything worthwhile does take time," Shannon said, "and you have to
expect setbacks. The raid was a success, the whoring Bitch can't any
more, and she bears the marks of those who brought her justice on her
hands. Not a bad accomplishment, all in all, don't you think?"
"Not bad at all, Raidmaster. What's next?"
"I haven't decided," Shannon said thoughtfully. "Any raid will be far
more hazardous now that Special Operations is going to be responding to
all of them, and for at least a couple of months we can count on them
being after revenge for the Bitch as well as doing their jobs. So
we'll have to pick our targets carefully." He tapped one of the papers
he'd been working on. "Until we get them out of our hair, we can't do
anything constructive. And we haven't enough people or resources yet
to strike their strong points, so while they're on an increased state
of alert, it might be interesting to attack their recreational
facilities."
The double smiled. "I like your thinking, Raidmaster. Such as the
whorehouses they frequent?"
"Exactly," Shannon agreed. "Pass the word along to your colleagues,
please. And I'd say you've had enough theoretical training; unless you
need specific help, I'll expect you to plan and carry out your
operations with as little inter-group communication as possible. Keep
me informed, of course--but as far as others are concerned . . . well,
what they don't know, an Inquisitor can't force them to tell."