Hunters Run Page 0,115

got to tell them, Ramon thought. For fuck's sake, I got to tell them now before they give me to that thing. Secondhand visions danced through his mind - the Silver Enye on their path of slaughter. What methods would they devise to wring information from a human? All he had to do was talk, say a few words, and condemn Maneck's people to death. How fucking hard could that be?

"That rag? All the time," Elena said. "Leaves it on the floor of the fucking bathroom whenever he takes a shower. And you know why? Because he thinks I'm his goddamn maid! Pendejo. I'll tell you what, I'm way better off without him. Kicking his ass out was the best thing I ever did!"

Ramon's panic had deafened him, so it took a moment before the meaning of her words came to him. He turned to the screen, his jaw slack. In the interrogation room, silence stretched. The constable's mouth moved as if he were speaking, but no words escaped. Elena scratched herself indelicately. Ramon's head spun. It was bullshit. Elena couldn't have seen this robe, not even after he'd come back from the hospital. She was lying, and lying in just the right way to save his sorry ass. He couldn't understand it.

"Are you sure of that?" the constable asked. His voice sounded a little strangled. "Please take a very close look at this. You're sure you've seen this particular piece of clothing?"

"Yeah," Elena said.

"But in your deposition, you said that Se?or Espejo doesn't own a robe."

"That's not a robe," Elena said. "Robe is like, down-to-yourankles long. That would only go to just under his knee. It's more like a smock."

"And this smock ..." the constable said, then trailed off. Ramon almost felt sorry for the little shit. What was there left for him to say?

"He's had it since I met him," Elena said. "I kept telling him to throw the fucking shabby thing out, but did he ever listen to me? Never. Never once, about anything. Pinche motherfucker."

"Ah," the constable said. And then, hopelessly, "You're sure?"

"Do I look stupid?" Elena asked, frowning.

A sense of unreality washed over him. Someone had gotten to her. Someone had gotten to Elena between the time she gave her deposition and now, and coached her on how to pull Ramon's sorry balls out of the fire. He wondered how much it had cost. Knowing Elena, probably a fair amount. He didn't let himself laugh, but the relief was like taking a drink of the best whiskey he'd ever had. Better, maybe.

Standing beside the governor, the straighthaired woman looked over at him, her face empty of any expression.

The problem with aliens, Ramon realized, was that they could never truly understand all the subtle ways that humans could communicate with humans. A hundred years of talking, and Ramon would never have been able to explain to anyone else how exactly the woman raising her chin a few millimeters meant "you're welcome" and "thank you" and "we're even" all at the same time. Ramon imagined the European's soul, trapped somewhere in Hell, keening his anger as Ramon escaped.

On screen, the constable limped through a few more pointless questions and then closed the interrogation. The governor tapped at his datapad once, and the wall-screen image faded. Ramon rubbed his hand against his thigh, trying to hide his elation by feigning impatience and rage.

"So you still want to gag me, pendejo?" Ramon asked. "I don't mean to be, you know, unreasonable or anything. But now that you fuckers have locked me up, kicked the shit out of me, and tried to hand me over to that great glob of snot over there, can someone unlock these fucking shackles so I can go talk to a lawyer about how much I can sue you for?"

"His account is consistent," the Enye piped. "He is of no interest."

Never in his life had Ramon been so thoroughly pleased to be of no interest. The governor, his assistant, and the Enye all left while Ramon was being processed out. The supervisor went through the forms and procedures with a bored efficiency; only his continued presence indicated that he wanted to be sure nothing else about all this went wrong. Within an hour, Ramon stepped onto the street, worse for wear but grinning all the same. He paused to spit on the ground at the base of the station-house stairs, then strode out into the city, making it almost half a block before he realized