Deserter (15 page)

Kris shook her head violently. There had to be some limits to her paranoia.

Beside her, Jack and Abby nodded with the absoluteness of ancient sages.

Kris snagged an apple and took her plate to an overstuffed chair set against what looked like a wall papered with an ancient Chinese river scene. On close examination, it proved to be a computer screen. Abby and Jack settled into opposite ends of the couch. Tommy munched his eggs Benedict in an overstuffed chair, Penny at his elbow in the straight-backed one that was usually Abby’s. For a long moment, the listening bugs picked up nothing but chewing sounds as breakfast held them in its pleasant grip.

Kris broke her muffin into small portions, then slowly chewed them as she ignored the people in front of her and let her eyes rove over the carved filigrees of the wood moldings where the walls, probably all screens, met the ceiling. A chandelier of finely cut glass cast gentle shadows on the walls and even the occasional rainbow. Would a penniless whore like Kris had masqueraded as last night ever see a room like this? Not likely she’d ever catch the eye of a man who might admit her for a brief moment to someplace like this.

No, places like this were reserved for people with money and power. People who mattered. People like Kris. And to get at a person like Kris, would someone kill an entire town?

“Jack, kill the bugs,” she said as she finished her muffin.

The agent produced a bug burner from his pocket, no bigger than his hand, with two metal horns extending from it. Bursts of crackling sounds marked his movement over the breakfast cart. When he finished there, he took care of one on the end table beside Kris’s chair, then ducked into his bedroom. “We’re clean,” he said when he returned.

“Nelly, what’s the death toll so far in Bremen?”

“Only two, but they don’t know how many have contracted it.”

Kris rubbed the back of her neck. “Ebola takes six or seven days to kill anyone. I didn’t even know Tommy was on leave back then. You can’t blame this on me!” The last words tasted too much of a plea for Kris’s liking. These people were not her judges. She had no right to task them with absolving her.

“Kris could be right,” Tommy said.

“The young, weak, or elderly often fail from it much faster,” Abby said in a tone that echoed of the sepulcher.

Kris was out of her chair, pacing. “We got in yesterday, broke Tommy loose last night, and were ready to bolt this place today. We’ve only had Tommy for six hours! Nobody could arrange a plague in six hours.”

“Yet the dying words of the woman last night were you’d never get out of here,” Jack said as he sat back down and resumed eating. Holding a slice of waffle just short of his mouth, he finished, “Sandfire knows you can move fast. He’s showing you he can react just as fast.”

“Three apartments were rented,” Penny noted. “We busted Tom out of the second one. I think we did get inside their decision-making cycle.”

“Right. That shows we acted faster than he expected,” Kris quickly agreed. “He expected to use that third apartment.”

Abby set down the small plate that had held her meal of toast and fruit. “Still, the timing of the rentals also tells us this plan has been in the works for some time.” A glance around the room got her nods of agreement. She went on. “The Ebola event must also have been planned well in advance. It could have been initiated as soon as you booked passage for here. I suspect if we looked closely at the incident, we’d find the present situation is more window dressing than real. No doubt, that will be corrected in a few days.”

“All this to get Kris?” Tommy shook his head. “She
is
one of
those
Longknifes, but this is ridiculous.”

“Right,” Kris said, but a look at the others didn’t show any similar doubt. She scrubbed at her face for a moment, trying to wash away feelings she didn’t have time to catalogue, then brightened. “Nelly, message to Grampa Al. ‘I’m stuck on Turantic. Could you please send me a ship to bust me out?’ There, we’ll use a damn Longknife thing to put an end to this.”

“I have filed the message,” Nelly said. “However, I am advised there may be a significant delay in transmitting it.”

Kris lost her breath as well as the confidence she’d found. “Tell us why, Nelly.”

“There seems to have been a major system failure in the stellar communications equipment last night. Nearly ninety percent of capacity is inoperative. I have paid extra to get us priority, but it will still be a three-hour delay.”

Penny pulled out her wallet and extracted a Wardhaven bill. “Five will get you ten. Kris’s message doesn’t go out before the rest of the system crashes.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Hey, Kris, I’m just learning to bet the odds. Somebody wants you here and seems willing to do damn near anything to keep you here.”

“But why?” Abby said, just the hint of a puzzled frown passing quickly over her well-controlled face.

“That,” Jack said, getting up and collecting the dish from Kris’s end table, “is the question I’ve been asking since we learned Tommy had been snatched.”

“I suspect if we find that out,” Abby said, adding her dirty plate to the cart, “we will find a snake much larger than we bargained for.”

“Penny, what’s going on here?” Kris asked. “Stipulated, someone wants me on Turantic. But why here?”

Penny took a deep breath. Nelly cut her off. “Kris, you have a call coming in.”

“Put it on-screen. Show me only.”

“I’m so glad to have you with us, Princess Kristine,” gushed a man with graying hair and jowls far too large for his face.

NELLY, WHO IS HE?

AMBASSADOR MIDDENMITE, WARDHAVEN’S REP—

RIGHT, I KNOW. “And I’m glad to see you this morning, Mr. Ambassador. I was trying to book passage home, and I’m told that I can’t.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that, too. I’ll have someone look into it. What I was calling for was something much more enjoyable. They are inaugurating the Top of Turantic tonight, a ballroom at the very top of the elevator station. Dinner and dancing with a truly marvelous view. I’m told it may be as enjoyable as any state ball on Wardhaven,” he said wistfully. Kris kept a smile on her face. Balls were the least of her problems at the moment.

“When I received my invitation,” the Ambassador went on, “it included one for Your Highness. Might I send it on?”

Kris had many things to do today; top among them was being a long way from Turantic before evening. Still, she swallowed the
No
that jumped to her lips. How often did Father say, “When you are trapped into doing something you hate, it is best to do it with grace. Think of it as fighting your way across a raging river. It is foolish to swim against the current.” Even at five, when Kris first received that lecture, she could not picture her father struggling across a raging river. Still, politics was full of sudden and fast currents, and Father did always arrive where he wanted. Maybe it was time to do a little floating with the flow while she dog-paddled like hell out of sight. Kris let her face form a frown for the Ambassador as she juggled a dozen thoughts at once. Someone was doing their level best to keep her here. How might she return this “favor”?

“Mr. Ambassador, I didn’t come prepared for a full round of formal affairs,” Kris started. Abby shook her head, letting the merest hint of a smile crease her lips. “But I could probably throw something together,” Kris added. Abby took flaming affront to that and headed for Kris’s room in full huff. “I would appreciate it if you could arrange for the host of tonight’s gala to offer me the invitation personally. There are security matters to consider.” She glanced at Jack. He shook his head with a sigh. Kris suspected that protecting her through the mob scene of a ball was the last thing Jack was prepared to do solo.

“I will be glad to pass along to Mr. Sandfire your openness to an invitation. He thought you might be in need of some entertainment,” the Ambassador effused.

At the word
Sandfire,
Tommy and Penny were off their chairs, showing a range of emotions that would have earned any media actor the highest honor. Kris froze her face. So Sandfire thought she might be bored this morning. And not going anyplace either.
Guess I didn’t spring Tom so fast.

“If you are able to make an appearance,” the ambassador went on, “at the ball tonight, I wonder if I might arrange further invitations. Sandfire mentioned there was no telling how long this quarantine might last. This weekend is the annual yacht regatta, and I understand you quite enjoy a good sail.”

Tommy’s skin took on a greenish tinge. Kris loved a good sail. Still, she should stay focused. “Mr. Ambassador, this is not a formal visit—” she started.

“I understand, Your Highness,” the ambassador cut her off, then paused, shocked at his effrontery, but he went on. “You must understand, Princess Kristine, there is an election scheduled in the very near future. Many people here have fond memories of their past relationship with Wardhaven. Others seem intent on damaging that relationship, if not destroying it. I would hate to see my adopted planet in, ah, difficulty with my home. You must understand the problem we face here.”

“I’ve been learning a lot very rapidly,” Kris said dryly.

“There is little that we can do officially, now that we are foreigners,” the Ambassador went quickly on. “However, I have never underestimated the power of social contacts. Many of my friends have expressed interest in you personally, both as a Longknife and as a Princess. What you can do . . .?” he finished with an expressive shrug.

Part of Kris wanted to protest that Lieutenant JG Longknife had not even been mentioned. She snapped a lid on that and considered the offer on its merits. Someone had made it impossible for her to get out of here. She could sit on her butt, fuming, or she could get out and do something, probably something that Mr. Sandfire had not planned on. Was this old coot trying to squander her time? She’d always considered her social life a waste. Just now, it was all she had. Maybe it was time to rethink herself. “Why don’t you look into other invitations while I consider matters?”

“I would be glad to.”

“By the way, I’ve tried to get a message off planet, to see if Nuu Enterprises could send a ship for me. That message is kind of having a slow go of it.”

“Yes, I understand that the new systems on High Turantic are suffering ‘teething problems,’ I believe they’re called.”

“Well, could you try to move my message up on the priority list? Nuu Pharmaceuticals makes one of the vaccines against Ebola. That ship could bring a load of it when it comes for me.”

“Very good thinking, Your Highness. Yes, I will personally contact the Minister of Communications to see what can be done.”

The Ambassador rang off, and bedlam broke out. “You are not going to any ball,” Jack snapped. “They could pick you off from a hundred different directions.” “Sandfire.” Tommy looked paler. “He’s the bastard that gave me the song and dance I fell for. Kris, you can’t do what he wants.” “Kristine Longknife, you can’t be that dumb” was Penny’s contribution. “You pulled off something pretty wild to stop that battle at Paris, but even you can’t snap your fingers and beat whatever is coming down here.”

“I suggest this gown tonight,” Abby said, holding up a bright red arrangement that would draw every eye within a thousand meters, even if it was just Kris wearing it.

Kris lowered her voice but pitched it to carry over the rabble. “Let’s sit down, calm down, and get some organization into our thinking.”

The others did, although Abby retreated to Kris’s room to return the gown. With everyone settled in, Kris began what had to be one of the strangest staff meetings in history. “Penny, from what graveyard did my father dig up that Ambassador?”

“He’s a holdover,” she started quickly. “Ambassador Middenmite came to Turantic forty years ago. You might not know it, but Turantic’s vintners produce a particularly prized wine. Middy was able to corner the market on it for most of the off-planet sales. When we needed help setting up a business mission here, he knew everyone worth knowing.” She shrugged. “He wanted to retire from business a few years back when we needed a head of trade missions. He seemed perfect for the job. He helped a lot setting up the military equipment exchanges of the last decade, or so my former boss told me.”

“So, he’s great window dressing, but not quite the sharp edge we need these days.” Penny nodded. “Who’s the real boss?”

Penny flinched away from Kris’s gaze. “Mr. Howling handles the administrative functions.”

“So,” Kris repeated, “who is in charge of the
real
work?”

“Lieutenant Junior Grade, you are not cleared for that.”

“And what about Princess Longknife?”

Penny frowned, glanced at the ceiling, then shrugged. “That royal stuff is just window dressing as far as the Navy is concerned. It doesn’t put you in my chain of command.”

“Reasonable answer,” Jack cut in with a sigh. “So, if our target here insists on going off to the ball tonight, what can you and your unnamed boss do to help me keep her from turning into a potted pumpkin before midnight?”

“Actually, I can help you there without involving my boss.” Penny smiled brightly, relieved to be out of that morass. “I told you I had contacts with the local police. I can get you a full detail up here within three hours.”

“And who will vouch that they’re clean?” Jack said.

“I will. They’re professional cops. They do good cop work and don’t give a damn about the political hand-waving going on.”

“Good enough for me,” Kris said. Jack turned on her, but she cut him off. “If we wait until we have full fields on all of them to your satisfaction, I’ll be well into my third year here with just you at my arm. I got us into this mess, Jack. I take responsibility for this part of the mess.”

“Okay, for the ball tonight, I guess I can go along with that. But you have to keep to a minimum-risk schedule.”