"What could happen, Thorne? You die. You all die. The ship vanishes, as others have vanished. Chain Lucas will be seen no more."
"You can't destroy or hide a liner, General. Your own Patrol will track you down."
Wheelwright shrugged again. "A high-orbit course, over the trade lanes, and I send the ship and you into the Sun. Will you seek fingerprints there?"
Thorne fell silent, watching Wheelwright from narrowed eyes. Finally he spoke.
"It's been your plan from the start, hasn't it?" It was not a question.
"From the moment Bannerman told me he had taken you into the Patrol, for all your record. I could have taken you at any time. But I wanted more than the ransom you can pay. I wanted peace in which to enjoy it."
Slowly Thorne's eyes widened. "You ... you yourself ordered the massacre at Banya Tor."
"Of course. You should know by now, Captain Thorne, that my men do not get out of hand. They tortured and killed at my word, that I might have a spectacle savage enough to justify calling in both you and the late Senator Chanler. She came at the suggestion of the pirate Chain Lucas, planning the treachery you heard. She never knew how futile it was."
"A masterpiece," agreed Thorne, dryly. His hand had slipped loosely from the arm of the lounge and fallen to his side. His head nodded wearily.
"These two betrayed their friends, their country, and would have betrayed each other as they did us once the money was paid," he went on, watching the quiet bodies on the deck. A thin trickle of darkening blood runneled out across the magnificent carpet to stain Wheelwright's polished boot. "You know what you have betrayed, General Wheelwright. You live a lie even in your greater lie. You fail your own pose of mock-hero, grasping more than you can hold."