Law of Survival (9 page)

Jani hurried past the doorman into the quiet of the lobby. “If I avoided everything that got to augie, I'd spend the rest of my life in a soundshielded cell, no blinking red lights allowed.”

“I thought you couldn't handle red at all.”

“John brought that under control this summer.” Jani nodded to Hodge as she crossed to the lift bank. “Much to my relief. You wouldn't believe how many people I know think red is a good color for a wall.” She didn't notice that Lucien lagged behind her until she had entered the lift.

“Oh, damn.” He had pulled up, gaze fixed in the direction of the lobby sitting area.

A young woman stood in the middle of the space, poised as though unsure whether to retreat or step forward. Her face was small-featured, a series of wispy upturns, the delicate effect complemented by clipped light brown waves. Slim and of medium height, she wore a wrap shirt and trousers in darkest burgundy.

“Roni.” Lucien doffed his cap and tucked it in his belt. “It's been a while.”

“Yeah,” the young woman replied, in a tone that hinted that the while hadn't been long enough.

Roni?
Jani stepped out of the lift. “Roni McGaw? The Exterior Documents Chief?”

Wide-set, slanted eyes narrowed further as they fixed on Jani. “Jani Kilian.” McGaw's was the accent of privilege, twangy Michigan provincial. “I wanted…to talk to you.” She looked again at Lucien, and her voice deadened. “If you're busy, we can meet another time.”

“We are, as a matter of fact.” Lucien tried to herd Jani back into the lift. “Sorry, but—”

“Wait.” Jani stepped around Lucien and beckoned to McGaw. “I can spare a few minutes, if you don't mind a ride upstairs.”

“I'm in a hurry myself. Late for a meeting.” McGaw boarded the lift, taking care to stand as far away from Lucien as possible. “Forgive the informality, but I wanted to ask your advice and such requests are better made in person.”

In other words, you didn't want to risk anyone from Exterior intercepting the message.
Jani studied Roni more closely. The muted light of the cabin combined with the too-dark Exterior uniform to accentuate shadows beneath eyes and cheekbones and tinge ivory skin with blue. It was a picture Jani recalled well.
She's like Yolan—worry deadens her
face.
It surprised her to think of her late corporal at a time like this, in the quiet of the vault. She usually only thought of Yolan Cray during the day, when she walked outside, and heard the
boom
of the charges.

McGaw's eyes widened when she entered Jani's flat, but she kept her interior decoration commentary to herself. “Nice place,” she said as she walked to the window. “Nice view, too.”

Jani joined her. “Yes, it is. You can see the intersection, and Armour Place all the way to where it veers onto the Boul Sidebar.” She lowered her voice. “Do you think you were followed?”

“No.” McGaw made as if to say more, but the sound of Lucien's footsteps silenced her.

“How's Miryam, Roni?” He wedged between them, his voice laced with petulant bite. “I heard she moved back to Lyon.”

“She's fine. She…did leave, last month, yes, she started a consulting business with some friends.” The blush crawled up McGaw's neck, then fingered along her jaw. Yolan had reacted the same whenever Neumann goaded her, her pale skin broadcasting her every emotion.

Jani interrupted Lucien's baiting, just as she had Neumann's years before. “Would you like a drink?” She headed for the kitchen, gesturing for McGaw to follow.

“Please.” McGaw hurried to catch her up.

Jani swept through the door and yanked open the cooler. “Is this about The Nema Letter?” She removed a dispo of fruit drink and handed it to McGaw.

“Nema?” McGaw stared at the dispo, her expression clouding. Then her head came up.
“Yes,
I—”

The kitchen door slid aside once more. “Are you ladies avoiding me?” Lucien asked as he sauntered in. “Ron, is that any way to treat an old friend?” He joined Jani in front of the cooler and put his arm across her shoulders, pulling her close.

Since when?
Lucien never put his arm around her—he wasn't the drapery type. Jani looked at McGaw to find her staring at Lucien, eyes hard and shining.

“All this increased business with the idomeni is highlight
ing the deficiencies in my staff's training. We could use input from someone with your experience.” McGaw cracked the dispo seal and took a sip. “If you'd agree to conduct a seminar, I can guarantee a room packed to the roof.”

“Ron, where have you been?” Lucien gave Jani a squeeze. “Ani will never allow Jan to set foot on Exterior grounds.”

“Anais and I have a deal. She doesn't interfere with documents, and I keep my nose out of politics.” McGaw took another swallow from the dispo, wincing as she did so. “Please think about it and get back to me, won't you?”

“Sure.” Jani slipped from under Lucien's arm and followed McGaw out of the kitchen. “Lescaux doesn't know you're here.”

“God, no.” McGaw handed Jani the juice dispo. “It's so sour.”

“Sorry.”

“Anais will be in the city all day tomorrow. Stop by the Annex.”

“Shouldn't we meet somewhere else?”

“I've mentioned you to my staff. They'll expect to see you. It's all right.” Disgust rippled across McGaw's face as Lucien approached, intensifying when he once more slipped his arm around Jani. “I'll see what I can arrange,” she said more loudly. “I will certainly appreciate your help.” She stuck out her hand. “Call me when you have the time.”

“Sure.” Jani took McGaw's hand, shook it lightly, dropped it. It felt warm, not cold. Alive, not dead. So why couldn't she bear to touch it…?

McGaw looked at her hand, then at Jani. “Is something wrong?”

Jani looked into her eyes. At least they were hazel, not pale grey like Yolan's. That would have been too much. “You…just remind me of someone I used to know.”

“Oh? I can't tell from your face whether that's good or bad.” McGaw backed out the door. “Until later.” She ignored Lucien's weak wave and hurried down the hall toward the lift.

“Well, that brought back memories.” Lucien's arm fell away as soon as the door closed. “She's trouble. Always sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. I lost track of the number of times I asked Ani to fire her.”

Jani stepped around him to her desk, taking a drink from the nearly full dispo along the way. “Why didn't Ani listen?” She swallowed, then glanced at the dispo label.
It's just lemon tonic.
She'd always found it sweet.

“Roni's mother is Ani's cousin. Ani lets family get in the way. That's family with a small ‘f,' in case you missed it.” Lucien tossed his garrison cap atop the desk, then pulled his rumpled shirt out of his trousers and undid the fasteners. “I'm going to shower.”

Jani sat and pulled a file off the top of a stack. “Have fun.”

“I could use someone to wash my back.”

“First rule of the Service—never volunteer.”

“And a soldier's life is a lonely one.” Lucien pulled off his shirt as he walked down the hall toward Jani's bedroom, allowing her an unimpeded view of his back before the door closed.

Such an admirable view.
Thoughts of it warred with the upset that McGaw's surprise appearance had caused, but before either thought could claim precedence, the buzz of Jani's comport spooked them all back to their burrows.

“Documents, Mistress,” Hodge imparted in hushed tones. “Treasury courier.”

Boy, Kern—you didn't waste any time.
“Send them up.” Jani counted to twenty, then pushed away from the desk. By the time she reached the door, the entry bell sounded. Hodge passed the gold carrier across the threshold with solemn ceremony; Jani cracked the seals, sighing inwardly when she saw the amount of paper contained therein.
Retainer? Try a damned deputy ministry.
After Hodge departed, she hefted the case back to the desk, pulled the top file out of the portable bin and tried to concentrate on the tables and charts.

Only a few minutes had passed when she heard the bedroom door open, but Lucien seldom dawdled when he showered and dressed alone. She glanced up. “Are you going straight back to Sher—?”

“Straight back to Sheridan? I don't know.” He smiled as he padded toward the desk. He had showered, judging from his damp hair and the stray drops of water glistening on his shoulders. He just hadn't bothered to dress.

Long thighs. Flat stomach. Just enough muscle—breadth
without bulk.
Blond all over—well, we knew that, didn't we?
Jani struggled with an “animal in the skimmer headlamps” feeling. Hypnotic view—inevitable outcome. “Forget something?”

“My cap.” Lucien reached across the desk and picked it up, allowing her to catch the scent of musky soap arising from his bare arm. He studied the cap absently, then planted his elbows on the desk and jerked his chin at the Treasury carrier. “Those are new.”

“Yeah.” Jani dragged her attention back to the documents. “Kern asked me to have a look at them. Idomeni issues. Anais is supposed to be helping him, but she's ignoring his pleas.”

“That means his boss ticked her off. It's Kern's job to heal the breach, not pass off the mess to you.”

“I said I'd help.”

“You're always helping. The more you help, the more they ask. What's Kern offering in return this time?”

“Permanent retainer.”

“Did you get it in writing?” Lucien leaned closer. “Roni. Kern. Yesterday, it was someone else. Tomorrow, it'll be someone else again. They all want your help, but what do
you
get in exchange?” His eyes darkened in frank invitation. “With all you've been through, you still haven't learned the difference between people who earn their keep and people who don't.”

Jani inhaled. The musky scent seemed to envelop her now, but McGaw's visit had unsettled her too much to consider the inevitable outcome. She nodded toward the clear windows, through which the afternoon sunlight streamed. “The privacy shields aren't up. Someone's getting an eyeful.”

Lucien looked toward the unimpeded view of the nearby buildings. “Perhaps that someone will show an interest. I'm certainly not getting any in here.” He straightened, then opened up the cap and set it at a jaunty angle atop his head. “My desertweights were rancid. I stuck them in your cleaner and set it for an hour.”

“I'll take them out when they're done.” Jani watched his perfect form recede down the hall, taut muscles working un
der tanned skin. Many thoughts occurred, none of which would have given Lucien any pleasure.

He's trying to distract me.
But from what? Not work—he never interfered with her job except to opine that she didn't charge enough for her services.
Peter?
Possibly. It did strike her as odd that they got on well enough to confer about the care and feeding of Anais Ulanova, especially considering Peter's reaction when Lucien interrupted Anais at the meeting.
They're rivals, oh yes they are.
But allies of a sort too, apparently, inasmuch as circumstances and Lucien's misshapen personality allowed them to be.

What about Roni McGaw?
His former coworker.
They despise one another.
Were they ex-lovers? No.
He'd flaunt that, not hide it.
Besides, Jani had sensed no heat between them, only the acrid odor of profound dislike.

He kept interrupting us. Why?

Lucien reemerged from the bedroom, this time fully clothed in a fresh set of dress blue-greys. “I'm off.” His black tietops clipped on the bare wood. “I'm not sure if I'll be by again this week—my schedule's a little choppy.”

“Whenever you can spare a few moments.” Jani reached for the Treasury carrier to pull out another file, but before she could, Lucien flipped the lid closed.

“If I never came back, would you care?” His voice held the deadness he reserved for people he had no use for, which meant he wasn't real happy with her at the moment.

“I don't know.” The words slipped out before Jani could stop them, driven by Lucien's odd behavior, the memory of Roni McGaw's agitation, and her own rising sense of disquiet.

“You. Don't. Know.” Lucien slipped his hand behind her head and pulled her to him, kissing her hard enough to hurt. He'd rinsed his mouth with a peppermint concoction—the sharp taste filled Jani's sinuses and made her eyes water.

“Tell Kern he better come through with that retainer,” he whispered as he broke away. The door had closed after him before Jani thought to breathe.

 

She spent the balance of the afternoon alternating between
Kern's files, Devinham's dock data, and the other Treasury reports. As the sky darkened, she prepped a strange supper of Neoclona Chicken Surprise washed down with lemon tonic. The chicken did indeed surprise her by tasting good. She buried thoughts of how a fully human mouth would perceive the tangy wine-herb flavor she enjoyed, and sopped up the sauce with bits of bread.

Late evening found her restless, brain churning with Nema's troubles, Lucien's actions, Roni McGaw's trepidation, and her own white paper-lined collision with her past. She tried to decompress by flipping through a holo album her parents had sent her the month before. First came sceneshots of north Acadian wilds near Oncle Shamus's tourist compound, the moors and the rolling hills. Then came the more personal images. Her mother, Jamira, grey-edged black hair twisted into a loose knot, holding up a rainbow-hued sari she bought for Jani to wear during her expected visit home. Her father, Declan, sleeves rolled up to expose sinewy arms, displaying with self-conscious pride the oaken salmon he had machined to hang over the mantel of Shamus's lodge fireplace.