He trained on in the training room, and it was not until Ambrose came looking for him that Vance stopped. The three of them went to a small private room and had lunch.
In the private room, two large heaps of food and one small one were set out in front of the three Pokémon.
"Eat your dinner."
Vance brought out energy cubes to add to it, and several other good things besides.
"Aren't you letting your Pokémon out to eat?" Vance turned and asked the other two.
"They're not finished being treated yet." Ambrose answered round a large drumstick.
"Ah. Right." With the food set out, Vance came to the table and started eating with them.
"Boss, this Torchic — that's what you got out of going after him, is it?"
Ambrose ventured to ask.
"Mm. That was all I got. A pity things were unsettled just then, or I'd have had more. That one was absolutely dripping with it."
Vance said it regretfully, and picked up a piece of meat and ate it.
"That's true enough. Damn, that one was quick — he really did get away. His friends were poor as dirt, you couldn't squeeze a drop out of them, not one starter between them. Though even if there had been, it would have had to be handed in."
Ambrose grumbled, out of sorts.
He had been in among the squad at the time and had helped take a good many prisoners.
"The point of this interception was the starters. So how many did we get?"
Vance asked it in passing; he was not yet clear on what had happened afterwards.
"Thirty-two. A few of them must have got away — I hear the escort was carrying fifty."
"Thirty-two. That's enough." Vance nodded. Put out on the open market, thirty-two starters would be an enormous amount of money and goodwill, and they might well produce any number of high-ranking Trainers.
Starters had high aptitude and plenty of room to grow, after all, and stood a good many grades above the Caterpie of this world.
"Heh. Do you two want to know what became of that League Elite-Four-class man?" Ambrose stopped eating and said it with a great air of mystery.
"Out with it. Stop drawing it out."
Emery cut short the performance and pressed him to get on with it.
"Quite. Less of the suspense in future — it's a bad habit." Vance said it too, telling Ambrose to give it up. If you have something to say, say it. Why draw it out?
There were only the three of them there. After so many days together, and after this battle, the three of them had shared hardship; you could call them men who had been through life and death side by side.
"Heh heh. Sorry. Force of habit." Ambrose smiled apologetically and rubbed the back of his head, a little embarrassed.
Then he went on.
"That League Elite-Four-class man — is he dead?"
Emery asked.
"No. I hear he didn't die, but of his two Elite-Four-class Pokémon one was killed and the other badly hurt. They could have finished him, but League support came up, another Elite-Four-class, and drove them back, so the two Chiefs had to withdraw and swallow it."
"Not dead? A seasoned Elite-Four-class, then, not a newcomer to the rank like Percival." Hearing it, Vance thought of Division Commander Percival in all his high spirits, of the same Elite-Four-class rank and dead on the spot, while this League man had been hunted by two Elite-Four-class men of Team Rocket and still got away, holding out until rescue came.
There were differences between one Elite-Four-class man and another; you could not lump them all together.
"The League's taken a heavy loss this time. They certainly won't let it rest — there'll be something big coming next. Whatever it is, the League has to do something."
Ambrose went on with his analysis, and there was sense in it.
Vance and Emery both agreed. An organisation the size of the League had to act, whether for the sake of its own face or to show what it could do; otherwise, what would ordinary people outside make of it?
And then, an organisation that size had remarkable strength. Corrupt and dark as it was, riddled with factions, its overall strength was still the greatest thing in the Pokémon world, and the force it could bring to bear was terrifying.
Where the League's face was concerned especially, they would certainly set their quarrels aside for the moment and hit back.
"But if the sky falls, it's the tall ones who hold it up. Rank-and-file like us aren't worth their notice."
Ambrose laughed in spite of himself and shook his head.
"True."
The League's people were not fools. What would they get out of going after a crowd of ordinary small fry like them? Even taking out a batch of them would come to nothing much; the return was not worth it, and it would not be fatal to Team Rocket.
An organisation the size of Team Rocket could turn out another batch of members with no difficulty at all.
Better to put their attention on the Division Commanders or the Chiefs. Bringing one of those down was worth more than getting rid of a few hundred small goods like them, and paid far better.
Of course, if it came easily to hand, the League would not pass it up either.
At that same moment, in the investigation building in Celadon City, Idris appeared looking thoroughly the worse for wear, his clothes slashed into strips and holed in a dozen places, dirty and torn, an altogether wretched figure.
With him were two others of middle age, also somewhat battered, though in far better condition than he was.
These three were the three who had escaped.
"If Celadon doesn't give me an account of this, I won't let it rest. My old companion died horribly out there, and my Dragonite is badly hurt — the damage goes to its foundations, and it won't be good for much." Kessler's face was full of anger as he put it to the man in charge in Celadon City, the city's Chief Investigator, Xander.
"It's still under investigation. There's no result yet, and we don't know what happened ourselves. Rest assured, you shall have your account, Elite-Four-class Kessler."
Xander said so again and again. He understood the man's feelings well enough; indeed, this attack might well have been a problem on their own side.
"Elite-Four-class Xander, the two of us have also suffered heavy losses, and we hope your side will see us compensated."
Idris put in.
Xander's brows drew together by instinct, but seeing the state the two of them were in, his tone softened.
"Naturally. Someone will be in touch with you both shortly."
The two of them were not Elite-Four-class, and Xander had no inclination to take charge of their affairs himself; his subordinates could handle it.
The one he really had to handle himself was the Elite-Four-class Kessler in front of him.
"I hope there'll be good news."
Idris said it, not daring to push too far. The two of them were not Elite-Four-class and stood low in the ranks; since Xander had given them an answer at all, that was enough.
Kessler had no such scruples, and said it plainly.
"In short, within two days you will give me an account of this and settle the matter of our compensation. Otherwise I shall take it to the Cabinet."
"Of course, of course."
"We're leaving."
With that he took the other two and went.
Xander watched the three of them go, pinched the bridge of his nose wearily, and then picked up the telephone and dialled.
"Were you two the only ones who got out?"
Kessler said it to them on the way.
"Yes."
The two of them looked at each other, and then answered.
"Elite-Four-class Kessler, I noticed something. The man who came after me was a Psychic, with about Elite-class fighting strength. Could he be someone Team Rocket has been training in secret?"
Idris, remembering how the fight with Vance had gone, ventured it.
"A Psychic? There does seem to be such a man. Do you know anything else about him?"
"No. I only ran into him because he attacked me this time."
"Mm. I'll put it in the report, then."
Kessler answered. An Elite-class Psychic was worth a line in a report.