a case of someone kidnapping her and dragging her off to his own home ground which simply happened to be in the country, that meant they wanted space, the ability to see people coming at long distances. It was always possible that “purely personal” was exactly what it was—that burst of terror could easily have come from someone who'd realized she was in the hands of a sadist or a serial killer—but it didn't fit the profile. Her abduction had been too smooth, too professional. The apparent seizure or collapse, the Good Samaritan and the waiting ambulance, all suggested careful planning by a group, not by a deranged individual. They wanted something, either from her or from someone who cared about her, and they intended to get it. Money was the first possibility that came to mind, although getting away with any ransom after the funds had been transferred would be problematical. He had no reason to believe her family was especially wealthy, either, and he took a moment to swear at himself for not having found out more about her. He should have at least found out who she was related to, damn it! But it would have felt too much like voyeurism, a confirmation that he was turning into the sort of obsessive stalker he'd been half-afraid he was becoming. All he knew about her was her last name—Chou—and that was scarcely an uncommon one here on Beowulf!
It was more likely they wanted something else, anyway, he told himself. Something that wouldn't leave traceable electronic footprints like a funds transfer. Information of some sort? That was certainly possible. Information techs didn't have to be wealthy or important themselves to have access to data that could be literally priceless to the right person. And information handed over on a data chip wouldn't have to pass through any of the galaxy's banking systems to be useful, either. He couldn't rule out a cash ransom, but the more he considered it, the more plausible the information theft motive looked.
Of course, what they wanted might be simple revenge for something, in which case they might well have—indeed, probably did have—no intention of ever returning her alive.
A fresh spike of fear threatened his cold detachment at that thought, but he forced it back. He couldn't afford it.
No. They were professionals, and that meant they probably wouldn't kill her immediately. But they'd brought her out here to make certain no one could get into striking range of their base undetected. They might also be out here because they wanted seclusion, but seclusion could be found in an urban environment, as well, if someone had a deep enough cellar. Most likely, they'd set up a military-style—or what they believed was a military-style—perimeter around their HQ, and that could be very, very bad. It was highly unlikely that anyone who could engineer this so smoothly would delude himself into believing he could have the firepower to stand off what the Beowulfan law enforcement agencies could bring to bear once they knew where he was. So his perimeter defense would be designed to buy time. Time for him to execute whatever bug out plan he was counting on to get his arse out of the frying pan before it fell into the fire. And that bug out plan was just as likely to include killing his captive before he ran for it as it was to include taking her with him.
All right. The first step was to find her. There was no point thinking about approaches or tactics until he'd managed that much, and at least he was pretty sure he knew how to do it.
He switched the map to a topological display, considering the terrain with a Marine's eye, and looked along the line between him and her. Distance was much harder to estimate than direction, especially when he had no previous experience with ESP, but there were a couple of places along that line that looked probable. He just had to figure out which one of them she was actually in.
“Come to a heading of zero-three-five degrees,” he told the AI. “Head in that direction until I tell you to stop.”
“Of course, sir,” the AI replied cheerfully. “Would you like me to open an entertainment channel for you while we travel?”
“No,” he said flatly.
“As you wish, sir. Ajax Cabs of Grendel appreciates your business. I hope you enjoy the flight.”
* * *
Jacques Benton-Ramirez y Chou finished dressing and sealed his tunic with a hand which