"No answer, then."
Draven's face darkened a little as he looked at the phone that would not connect and at the specially made communicator beside it. Neither of them could reach anyone.
Ambrose and Emery both wore the same blank expression, sunk in a hypnotic trance.
If they would not cooperate, there were plenty of ways to make them cooperate. This was one of the gentle ones.
"They took each other down? Or was it something else."
Draven turned it over in his mind, and could not help regretting the whole thing. Why had he ever got himself mixed up in this?
And now here he was, jumping at shadows, in trouble up to his neck.
Wasn't the man supposed to be an ordinary Advanced Trainer? How had an Elite-Four-class got dragged into it? It was maddening.
"No. I have to think of something. A man only gets the one life." Turning it over did in fact produce an idea, and he walked out.
"Commander. What do we do with those two?"
One of his men put the question as he was leaving.
"Pull them out. There's no point to it any more."
Draven thought for a moment and answered.
So the men and the Pokémon inside the Pokémon Cottage were all withdrawn, and Ambrose and Emery had their freedom back.
"Boss — he can't have..."
Ambrose faltered.
"I don't know. I hope he's all right. From the look on Draven's face, something must have changed. Let's pray Vance is safe and sound."
Emery worked it through as he spoke. As things stood there was nothing the two of them could do; they had been seized in the first instant and had come very near to losing their lives.
"We can't reach the Division Commander either — he seems to have gone out on a mission. If only we could get hold of him. He thinks highly of the boss; he might be able to help."
At the base in the Game Corner.
Draven was kneeling in front of Bram at that moment, drinking tea and talking.
"Draven. Why can't you sit still? You look anxious."
Bram drained a cup of tea slowly and said it without any hurry.
His old subordinate's behaviour puzzled him.
A Trainer who had come as far as Elite-Four-class hardly wants for an eye for such things.
"Chief, there's something I need to tell you. It's had me uneasy these last few days."
Draven said it with his wording and his line of approach already worked out.
To be safe, he meant to get his own superior to help; that would give him something to stand behind.
He could not handle an Elite-Four-class. An Elite-Four-class Trainer could.
"Oh? And what is it."
"It's like this. I have a friend called Grady, and he and Vance, from our own branch, have a..."
Draven laid the whole thing out, with adjustments here and there in the details, of course — blackening Vance's name a little, and so on.
"And afterwards I felt it had been a very bad piece of business, so I've come to own up to you."
Bram's face gave nothing away. "Well, now you know. Don't let it happen again. It's done; I don't suppose there's anything to be done about it now."
"The thing is — there were one or two complications." Draven said it feebly, and then told him what had happened at Porta Vista.
"Ha ha ha. Draven, the longer you live the more easily you scare. And I imagine that's the real reason you've come to see me."
"The Chief sees clearly. It was the unease that brought me here."
Draven laid it on.
"Ha ha ha. Out of the question." Bram laughed, and went on, "This Vance — I have some impression of him. Quite young, isn't he? Eighteen. How is anyone that age going to have an Elite-Four-class Pokémon? It's pure fantasy."
"But Chief, that's exactly the word out of Porta Vista." Draven said it quickly.
"Don't rush at it. Think it over slowly and you'll see." Bram was as unruffled as ever. He picked up his tea and drank.
"That word came from the investigators over in Porta Vista, and I'd question how true it is. They'll invent whatever they need for the credit."
Put like that, Draven felt a little easier. But the thought of Grady, who could not be reached, made his heart sink again.
"Chief, I'd still like your help. You know me — I scare easily. If he does come, I'd ask you to smooth it over."
As he spoke, Draven produced a handsome gift and pushed it across to Bram.
"And if he doesn't, then it's still a mark of respect to you — my thanks for all the years you've looked after me, chief."
Draven looked and sounded so sincere about it that Bram was a little touched. Seeing his old subordinate like this, he thought for a moment and gave him an answer.
"Very well. If it really comes to that, I'll smooth it over for you. I should think this old face of mine is still worth something."
"Ha ha ha. Thank you, chief."
Draven brightened at that and thanked him at once. Settled. That was it settled.
With a promise from an Elite-Four-class power behind him, he counted himself safe; whichever way it went, his life was in no danger.
..................
On a nameless little island, Vance was holding a grilled fish. He took a bite: the flesh was tender, the salt just right, the smell of the fire still on it.
Three days had passed since he came to this island.
In those three days the Pokémon had recovered most of the way, and he had taken the chance to get to know the place.
The island was not a small one. There was fresh water inland, and a great many fruit trees growing.
The strongest Pokémon living on it were only Elite-class — no match at all for the Gyarados and the others now that they had recovered.
The Gyarados and his group had become the overlords of the island.
They were well past the difficulty and the weakness of those first days.
"Combusken—"
He had skewers of fish in both claws, grilling them, sprinkling on spices, the whole lot sizzling.
The fish had been caught at sea. A great deal of fish lives in an ocean that size.
"We rest here today. Tomorrow we set out and head back to a city."
Vance announced it once he had finished eating.
There was no telling how long it would take to get back to Kanto. A compass was no guarantee of going the right way; it only gave him a direction.