Face Off (15 page)

CHAPTER
25

THE ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT
on Draigen dominated the conversation at the Guild staff’s weekly meeting the following morning. Guildhouses focused on local issues, but a few—as those in Washington, Berlin, and Paris—had become key strategic locations to further the political agenda of High Queen Maeve. Her opposition to the Elvenking in Germany required constant attention—and constant reinforcement of alliances. A change in leadership of a major fairy clan caused more than one department to consider the political ramifications for the Seelie Court.

Laura shifted her folders on the table for the third or fourth time. Guildhouse staff meetings were like corporate meetings everywhere. Sometimes interesting, most times too long. Rhys ran an efficient meeting. He enjoyed being the center of attention, but he wasn’t a rambler. Despite that, the conversation had leaned on speculation more than anything else, and Laura wanted the meeting to end.

The assassination attempt had thrown the building into a high security alert, which restricted access to most outsiders. Laura counted herself lucky that she didn’t have outside clients who needed to allow extra time for clearance—if lucky meant her workload was limited to her public-relations duties in the building and her InterSec mission. Rhys was firing off press releases on a near-hourly basis addressing rumors of anti-Inverni bias at the Guild, failures in security that had almost killed Draigen, demands for more investigations into the terrorist attack at the National Archives, to say nothing of the seemingly random attacks against the fey around the city. Saffin helped Laura manage the changing priorities and ran interference as necessary. The weekly meeting was the last place Laura wanted to be.

Rhys made some final remarks about heightened security and his desire to protect the building staff. Laura wasn’t offended by the undercurrent of falsity that ran through his words. She knew he cared about the people who worked in the Guild, but he brought it up in the meeting to give the staff the impression he was actively working on their protection rather than relying on others to handle the nuts and bolts of the details. People in Rhys’s position dictated policy. They didn’t implement. She jotted down some notes. Some of what Rhys said could be used in more public announcements, too.

Rhys closed his loose-leaf notebook and adjourned the meeting. From her seat at the side of the room, Laura rose to let people pass. She adjusted the stack of folders in her arms when Rhys called her name. “A moment, if you please.”

She shifted past the exiting staff and sat next to him. While the room emptied, he checked his PDA. When the last person out of the room closed the door, Rhys placed the PDA on the table. “I need an internal memo, something nuanced but pointed.”

His manner intrigued her, cautious yet bemused. She lifted her pen, waiting for him to continue. “I’ve purged the
leanansidhe
from my Guildhouse.”

Anger surged through Laura. “What do you mean ‘purged’?”

Rhys arched an eyebrow. “Is that essence light I see in your eyes?”

She inhaled sharply, surprised that her emotion had broken through her normal control. She tamped down the essence, drawing it into the core of her being, and relaxed her grip on the chair. “I’m sorry, Guildmaster. The term took me off guard.”

Rhys’s face relaxed. “Ah, that. It was an ill-chosen word. For a moment, I thought you were going to raise an objection and defend the creature again.”

Laura dropped her eyes, not wanting to challenge him. Rhys rarely misspoke. After World War II, solitaries who collaborated with the Elvenking were interned in camps across Europe. Those who escaped found refuge in the U.S. They called it the Purge, and the rise of solitaries as a protected class in the U.S. began. “What’s happened?”

“I’ve barred it from the building. An investigation into its presence will be commencing shortly. I want a notice sent to all staff that this is an isolated instance until we can clarify the situation.”

“Where is she?” Laura asked.

“Who?”

She glanced at him sharply. “Cress. The
leanansidhe
.”

Rhys pursed his lips. “It apparently lives with Terryn macCullen of all people. I want that mentioned. They’ve agreed that the
leanansidhe
will submit to Guild authorities and remain under guard in the apartment until the legalities are straightened out.”

Kill two birds with one memo, she thought. Demonize Cress and smear an Inverni.

“This isn’t Faerie, Orrin,” she said.

At the use of his personal name, he cocked his head. “Do you have something to say, Laura?”

She hesitated. It was hard to know when to be frank with him and when to tread carefully. “I don’t know the full politics of the Inverni and Danann clan disputes, but I do know American attitudes. What plays well at the Seelie Court may backfire here. We need to maintain the Americans as our allies against the Elvenking.”

“Donor Elfenkonig has voiced his support of the Inverni cause. That is enough for our American friends to support us,” he replied.

“Support” was too strong a word. Laura had seen the news dispatches. The Elvenking had criticized the Treaty clause as archaic—ironic considering his preferences for old ways. He had not explicitly denounced the Seelie Court. “You know that’s posturing on his part, Orrin. I’m concerned about the solitaries as well. They will watch and worry about what Maeve does to a major segment of the fey population. Cress may be a
leanansidhe
, but the solitaries will view her as one of their own even if they fear her kind.”

Rhys folded his hands across his chest and leaned back in thought. By the sudden agitation in his wings, she knew she had made a sharp point. “I will bear that in mind. Thank you, Laura. Word will spread quickly about this. I would like a draft memo within the hour.”

“What about Resha?” she asked.

“What about him?”

“It might play better coming from him.”

Rhys chuckled. “I like that. He won’t, but I do. I’ll make the call personally.”

She hated herself for offering the idea. Putting Resha in a propaganda position against his own people felt worse, but she did hope it would help. He might find a way to present the news without its sounding like Cress was targeted first, investigated second. Solitaries were used to that order of events, and it didn’t sit well with them. “Is there anything else?”

“No.”

She stood. “I’ll write up a draft for Resha to work from that includes your talking points.”

Rhys called her when she reached the door. “Laura, I’m concerned you’re angry with me.”

“I’m concerned we’re putting too much pressure on the situation, Orrin, especially in light of the assassination attempt. People are emotional and upset. We’ve effectively put the fey on notice that any opposition to the Seelie Court will be met with heavy punitive action. Threatening to make the Inverni political prisoners and exiling a solitary because we’re afraid of what she might do as opposed to something she’s actually done can create an explosive situation. I don’t want us to be seen as encouraging that kind of behavior. That’s all,” she said.

“Sometimes forcing a situation relieves the pressure,” he said.

She offered him a troubled smile. “I hope so.”

As she waited for the elevator, she did her best to control her breathing. Politics or not, Cress was her friend. So was Terryn. For the first time in a long time, the personal mattered to her more than protecting the Seelie Court and Maeve.

CHAPTER
26

TO COVER HER
switch to the Mariel glamour, Laura had to return to the public-relations department, then to her private room, where she made the transition. She refrained from rushing through the accounting department. It was times like this that the necessary secrecy around her competing personas frustrated her. The constant changing of elevators and cutting through other departments to hide her tracks were time sinks she didn’t need.

Once through the security locks at the InterSec unit, she registered a jumble of body signatures in the main corridor. Some she recognized as other agents and staffers, but several were unknown. She stopped at Cress’s office. Why, she didn’t know, maybe to confirm what Rhys had said, maybe to pretend that she had misheard him. Cress kept her office neat and utilitarian, but now it felt more so than usual. Not a book or specimen jar or document was out of place, everything tidy. Cress wasn’t there and hadn’t been. Others had, though—more strange body signatures.

She strode down the hall to Terryn’s office, slowing at the sound of a woman’s voice she recognized. Genda Boone spun slowly in Terryn’s chair, a cell phone to her ear. She smiled and waved Laura in. Perplexed, she sank into the guest chair.

“No, Damine, it’s on the top of my dresser . . . Yes, the blue one. Send it down. I want to wear it this afternoon. Then call Jarnell and tell him I have five more people coming for dinner. No pork and no peppers . . . Yes, she’s in town. I have to go.” She disconnected.

She pulled the chair closer to the desk, her broad translucent wings flaring out to the sides. “I’m so glad you came in, Mariel. This is all so odd and sudden, and I haven’t had time to figure out who’s who and what’s what.”

Laura smiled diplomatically. “I’m a little confused myself. Where’s Terryn?”

Genda’s thin eyebrows shot up. “You don’t know? He took a sudden leave of absence.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s related to the
leanansidhe
, I’m sure, but no one’s talking. Well, everyone’s talking, but I can’t get confirmation. Where in Danu’s name have you been, dear?”

She tried not to show her surprise. “I was . . . in a closed meeting. When did this happen?”

Genda shuffled papers, her gaze ranging avidly across the desktop. “About an hour ago. I received the call shortly afterward. Where does he keep his calendar? Don’t tell me he took it with him.”

“Genda, what are you doing here?”

Genda paused, a sympathetic smile on her face as she leaned forward and placed her hands on the desk. “Is this going to be awkward, Mariel? I mean, it
is
awkward, but this kind of thing happens all the time. Besides, it’s not like I will be here twenty-four/seven.”

Laura hid a sense of dread. Genda had never been a field agent. As far as Laura knew, she had no idea how to run a field operation. “Here? You’ve been transferred here?”

She tapped the desk. “Yes, dear. I thought you understood. I was asked to be acting director until, well, I don’t know when. Like I said, it’s all so sudden, I haven’t had a chance to tell Damine to order business cards.”

Terryn?
Laura sent.

I can’t talk now,
he replied.

Tell me if you are safe,
she sent.

Yes. We can discuss it later.

Is Cress?

She’s fine at home.

Genda’s cell phone vibrated on the desk. She snatched it, holding a hand up to Laura. “Wait, I need to take this . . . Yes, James, I’m here. I need the algorithm this afternoon. Those numbers look suspicious, and I’m positive there’s more to it than a little embezzlement . . . Oh, good. Great. Did you get the confections I sent? Aren’t they marvelous? It’s a shop in the French Quarter I found last week, darling woman runs it. Human, but I can’t hold that against her after I tasted that layered pastry . . . Yes, I want Chicago in on this and put a call up to Davis in New York. Tell him it’s the real-estate firm I’m interested in, not that silly shell company they have as a front . . . Okay, good. I have to go.”

She disconnected. “I’m sorry. Do you see? I have my other duties to attend to as well.”

“I’m still confused,” Laura said.

Genda nodded vigorously. “I know, I know. Honestly, I’m not going to be looking over your shoulder. I’ve been asked to assess and reprioritize and keep things running as smoothly as possible.”

“You’re in charge,” Laura said. It wasn’t a question as much as a need for her to hear the words aloud.

“Yes, dear, what’s wrong? Thank Danu you were in his group. A situation like this is hard enough without knowing whom to trust. I know I can rely on you to do . . . whatever you do.” She laughed high and loud. “What do you do? We’ve never been in the same branch before.”

Laura clicked into professional mode—no showing of emotion, no disclosing of true thoughts. Not working for Terryn macCullen was something she had not expected without some kind of warning. “Investigations. Political considerations,” she said.

Genda nodded again. “Yes, I’ve assumed as much for years. You’re working on these fey attacks, aren’t you? Why isn’t Community Liaison handling that? Wait . . . you don’t need to answer that. I know, I know. Let’s push it back to them anyway. It’ll go in their queue, and we can focus on what’s important. Who else is on that assignment? I see only your name. You can’t be handling it alone.” She laughed again. “Oh, that sounded wrong. Of course you can handle it alone. I meant that more as surprise that they would burden you with something like this when you’re on the macCullen security detail.”

Terryn had said Sinclair was on probation until he proved himself, and he meant it—apparently to the point of not having evidence of his presence in the department if Genda’s lack of awareness was any indication. If that was what Terryn wanted, she wasn’t about to disclose anything until she understood what the hell was happening. “No one else,” she said, glad that Genda didn’t have her truth-sensing ability.

“Good. That makes things easier. Why don’t you focus on your security detail for now. Send me the file on what you have with the fey attacks, and I’ll make sure Community Liaison has everything.”

“Community Liaison coming in cold might derail the investigation,” Laura said.

Genda’s bracelets jingled as she moved Terryn’s things off the desk. “I know, it’s hard to let go of things, but I’m tasked with straightening out priorities. By the way, can I have a copy of the financial files you acquired during the Archives mission? Terryn sent me macrodata to analyze, and it would help if I had details.”

“I gave it all to Terryn,” she said.

Genda let out an exaggerated sigh. “I can’t speak for his strategy skills, but I do have to say his organizational skills leave a lot to be desired.” She shrugged. “Well, it is what it is. I’ll have to find where he put them. Anyway, I have a ton to get up to speed on. Can we regroup tomorrow?”

Laura stood. “Okay. I’ll send you my security schedule.”

Genda was already looking at her PDA. “Great. Your hair looks wonderful, by the way. Are you using a new conditioner?”

“Something like that,” she said.

Genda glanced up and smiled. “This is going to be fun working together.”

Laura gave her a tight smile as she stepped away. “I can’t begin to agree.”

She ducked into her office, retrieved an unregistered cell phone, and hurried down the corridor to Sinclair’s office. She surveyed the empty room, devoid of personality, as if it had recently been assigned to someone new who hadn’t quite moved in. Which was what it was. She dialed Sinclair’s direct line.

Sinclair picked up, his voice cautious. “Yes?”

“Jono, it’s me. Do you have anything personal in your office?”

“Not really,” he said.

She moved behind his desk. “Not ‘not really.’ I need a yes or no.”

“What’s going on?”

She pushed papers aside, mostly internal memos that didn’t have his name on them. “No time. Is there anything here that can identify you? Anything with your name or personal information?”

“No . . . Oh, wait. Some notes.”

“Where?”

He paused. “Top left drawer.”

She opened it and found a small stack of pink phone messages and scrap paper. She sorted through them. All in her handwriting. They were nothing important, quick scrawls to meet for lunch or reminders about meetings. “These notes?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you keep these for?”

A longer pause. “Because you wrote them.”

She started to laugh. In the midst of whatever crisis was unfolding, she found herself touched by the thought he had saved them.

“Look, throw them away. They don’t mean anything,” Sinclair said.

His embarrassed tone made her regret the laugh. “No, I’ll save them for you. Can you meet me in about an hour at the corner of O and Ninth?”

“Okay.”

“Gotta run.” She disconnected. She scooped up the notes and shoved them in her pocket. Taking one more look around, she made her way to the service elevator. As she walked through the accounting department, her mind whirled with unanswered questions. Whatever had happened had happened fast. Terryn would have told her his plans otherwise. She wanted to get to Cress and see what she could do to help. But first she had to write a memo justifying kicking her friend out of the building.