calls.
Gralgrathor stands staring down at the newcomer, who has thrown back his cowl to reveal a lean, dark-eyed face, flame-red hair.
"Lokrien—am I dreaming?" Gralgrathor whispers.
The dark-eyed man smiles, shaking his head. He speaks in a strange language . . . but dimly, Gralgrathor senses the meaning.
"Thor—man, it is you! Don't tell me you've forgotten your mother tongue!"
"After all these years?" Gralgrathor says. "You've really come?"
"I've come for you," Lokrien says in the half-strange language. "I've come to take you home, Thor."
Chapter Four
1
The governor of Caine Island prison stared incredulously at the chief of his guard force.
"You wouldn't be making some sort of . . . of ill-considered joke, I suppose, Brasher?"
"No, sir," the wiry, dapper officer said. He stood at parade rest, looking acutely uncomfortable. Outside, the wind shrieked jeeringly.
"It's not possible," the governor said. "It simply isn't possible! "
"It happened on the bridge," the captain said, tight-mouthed. "Just as the car crossed the draw span."
"An escape." Hardman sat rigid in his chair, his face pale except for spots of color high on his cheeks. "From the country's only one-hundred-percent escape-proof confinement facility!"
The captain slanted his eyes at his superior.
"Governor, if you're suggesting . . ."
"I'm suggesting nothing—except that a disaster has occurred!"
"He didn't get far," the captain said. "Not with two tranks in him. He went over the side into a riptide. That's a rough drop at sixty miles an hour, even without the storm. We're looking for the body, but—"
"I want the body found before the wires get the story! And if he's alive—" He stared fiercely at the officer.
"He's dead, sir, you can count on that—"
"If he's alive, I said, I want him caught, understand, Brasher? Before he reaches the mainland! Clear?"
The captain drew a breath and let it out, making a show of self-control.
"Yes, sir," he said heavily. "Just as you say." He turned away, giving Hardman a look as though there were comments only protocol prevented him from making.
When the officer had gone, Hardman sat for five minutes biting his thumb. Then he flipped the intercom lever.
"Lester, I want the Grayle dossier, everything we've got."
"There isn't much, Governor. You'll recall he was a transfer from Leavenworth East—"
"I want to see what we have."
Lester hesitated. "Is it true, Governor? The story going around is that he more or less burst his way through the side of an armored car—"
"That's an exaggeration! Don't help spread these damned rumors, Lester!"
"Of course, I knew it was ridiculous. I suppose under cover of the storm he caught the escort off guard—"
"I want those records right away, Lester. And get in touch with Pyle at Leavenworth, see if you can turn up anything else on Grayle. Check with Washington, the military services, the various federal agencies. Query Interpol and the UN PC Bureau. I want anything and everything you can turn up."
Lester whistled. "Quite a stir for just one man, sir, isn't it? I mean—"
"That man has my reputation in his pocket, Lester! I want to know all there is to know about him—just in case he isn't picked up washing around in the tide tomorrow morning!"
"Of course. You know, Governor, some of the staff have been repeating the stories about Grayle having served his time but not being released because the records were lost. They say he finally took the law into his own hands—"
"Nonsense. He'd have been free in ninety days."
"Just how long had he been on the inside, sir? I was asking Captain Brasher, and he—"
"Get me the records, Lester," the governor cut him off. "I suggest you stop listening to rumors and get busy digging up some facts."
2
Lying flat among reeds on a shore of sulfurous black mud, Grayle averted his face from the howling wind that drove rain at him in icy sheets. He rested for a while, waiting
Gralgrathor stands staring down at the newcomer, who has thrown back his cowl to reveal a lean, dark-eyed face, flame-red hair.
"Lokrien—am I dreaming?" Gralgrathor whispers.
The dark-eyed man smiles, shaking his head. He speaks in a strange language . . . but dimly, Gralgrathor senses the meaning.
"Thor—man, it is you! Don't tell me you've forgotten your mother tongue!"
"After all these years?" Gralgrathor says. "You've really come?"
"I've come for you," Lokrien says in the half-strange language. "I've come to take you home, Thor."
Chapter Four
1
The governor of Caine Island prison stared incredulously at the chief of his guard force.
"You wouldn't be making some sort of . . . of ill-considered joke, I suppose, Brasher?"
"No, sir," the wiry, dapper officer said. He stood at parade rest, looking acutely uncomfortable. Outside, the wind shrieked jeeringly.
"It's not possible," the governor said. "It simply isn't possible! "
"It happened on the bridge," the captain said, tight-mouthed. "Just as the car crossed the draw span."
"An escape." Hardman sat rigid in his chair, his face pale except for spots of color high on his cheeks. "From the country's only one-hundred-percent escape-proof confinement facility!"
The captain slanted his eyes at his superior.
"Governor, if you're suggesting . . ."
"I'm suggesting nothing—except that a disaster has occurred!"
"He didn't get far," the captain said. "Not with two tranks in him. He went over the side into a riptide. That's a rough drop at sixty miles an hour, even without the storm. We're looking for the body, but—"
"I want the body found before the wires get the story! And if he's alive—" He stared fiercely at the officer.
"He's dead, sir, you can count on that—"
"If he's alive, I said, I want him caught, understand, Brasher? Before he reaches the mainland! Clear?"
The captain drew a breath and let it out, making a show of self-control.
"Yes, sir," he said heavily. "Just as you say." He turned away, giving Hardman a look as though there were comments only protocol prevented him from making.
When the officer had gone, Hardman sat for five minutes biting his thumb. Then he flipped the intercom lever.
"Lester, I want the Grayle dossier, everything we've got."
"There isn't much, Governor. You'll recall he was a transfer from Leavenworth East—"
"I want to see what we have."
Lester hesitated. "Is it true, Governor? The story going around is that he more or less burst his way through the side of an armored car—"
"That's an exaggeration! Don't help spread these damned rumors, Lester!"
"Of course, I knew it was ridiculous. I suppose under cover of the storm he caught the escort off guard—"
"I want those records right away, Lester. And get in touch with Pyle at Leavenworth, see if you can turn up anything else on Grayle. Check with Washington, the military services, the various federal agencies. Query Interpol and the UN PC Bureau. I want anything and everything you can turn up."
Lester whistled. "Quite a stir for just one man, sir, isn't it? I mean—"
"That man has my reputation in his pocket, Lester! I want to know all there is to know about him—just in case he isn't picked up washing around in the tide tomorrow morning!"
"Of course. You know, Governor, some of the staff have been repeating the stories about Grayle having served his time but not being released because the records were lost. They say he finally took the law into his own hands—"
"Nonsense. He'd have been free in ninety days."
"Just how long had he been on the inside, sir? I was asking Captain Brasher, and he—"
"Get me the records, Lester," the governor cut him off. "I suggest you stop listening to rumors and get busy digging up some facts."
2
Lying flat among reeds on a shore of sulfurous black mud, Grayle averted his face from the howling wind that drove rain at him in icy sheets. He rested for a while, waiting
Similar Books
Loving Spirit
Linda Chapman
The Bad Mother's Handbook
Kate Long
The Soul of the Matter
Bruce Buff
Dancing in Dreamtime
Scott Russell Sanders
Nerd Gone Wild
Vicki Lewis Thompson
Count Belisarius
Robert Graves
Empress of the World
Sara Ryan
The Fugitive's Trail
J.C. Fields
Murders in the Blitz
Julia Underwood
Tess's Tale (The Chanel Series Book 3)
Donna Joy Usher