Skin Deep (29 page)

The years piled up, the missions, the plans, and, every time, she stepped forward. Every time, she did her duty. For the Guild. For InterSec. Sometimes she had provided the means for great things to happen, only a very few knowing about it. Sometimes she had done those great things herself, with even fewer people knowing. Her life had become a cycle of stress, endless games of subterfuge, and feints. Nothing ever truly resolved. Things got worse. Things got better. It didn’t matter which, because there was always something more to do.

And she never said no. Not during undercover operations. Not during armed conflicts. Not when the Guild wanted one thing, and InterSec wanted another. Whatever the request, she managed to satisfy everyone else.

Everyone ended up satisfied but her. She had people she trusted with her life, who weren’t actually her friends. She had friends to whom she couldn’t talk about her life. At the end of the day, she lay down on many different beds, and home had become not the comfort of an apartment, but a windowless room that everyone else thought was a closet in an office building.

Something had to change. She picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hello?” Sinclair answered.

“It’s me. Are you okay?” she asked.

He chuckled in her ear. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m bunking in an examining room at the Guildhouse until Terryn can decide if I’ll see the light of day again.”

“I didn’t get a chance to see you before I left,” she said.

“You should be glad you’re alive and asleep after what you went through.”

“I am,” she said.

“You’re asleep?” he teased.

She laughed. “No, you jerk. I’m glad I’m alive.”

He lowered his voice. “Me, too.”

She closed her eyes and listened to his slow steady breathing on the other end of the phone.

“You there?” he asked.

“Yes. I just wanted to say good night, Jono.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.”

She replaced the phone on the cradle. As she slid deeper under the covers, she realized she was smiling and realized it was for herself.

For a change, she thought.

CHAPTER 30

LAURA STRODE TOWARD
the Anacostia station house. A formidable Mariel Tate reflected back at her from the windowed doors—sharp heels, streamlined jumpsuit, large sunglasses, all black. Two Danann security agents flanked her. They walked in sync, people on the sidewalk edging out of their way. She was there on business and meant it to be apparent.

She started the day in the Mariel Tate apartment, going through the motions of making breakfast, straightening the apartment, and getting dressed. She moved without thinking, focusing on the routine of preparing for the day. The closer she got to leaving the apartment, the more her thoughts shifted to the day’s agenda. As the events of the previous night replayed in her mind, anger grew, a low simmer that rose until she found herself pacing the floor, ready for a fight.

People knew things they weren’t telling. For all the suspicions in the D.C. SWAT squad, no one pressed their issues, no one questioned people’s actions. Everyone did what she was doing: waiting for someone else to make the next move, waiting for an excuse to take action. By the time she left the apartment, she’d decided enough was enough. She was not waiting for the next incident to happen or for new information to be handed to her. She wanted answers, and she was going to get them. Captain Aaron Foyle was the place to start, whether he liked it or not.

Inside the doors to the station house, she held her InterSec badge out to the desk duty sergeant. “Mariel Tate, InterSec. I’m here to see Captain Foyle. Immediately.”

The desk sergeant’s neutral face hid resentment at her tone. “I’ll see if he’s in.”

“I’m not waiting,” Laura said. She walked past the desk, grasped the secured door and shot a burst of essence into it. The lock cycled and opened.

“Hey!” the sergeant shouted. He jumped from his seat, reaching for his gun.

Ignoring him, Laura continued inside, holding her InterSec badge high enough for the surrounding officers to see. Behind her, a Danann gestured and ball of white essence sprang from his palm toward the desk sergeant. The light wrapped itself around the gun. The sergeant swore as the gun became too hot to handle, and he dropped it on the floor.

The Dananns followed Laura as she marched through the open desk area into the hallway at the back. Their body shields hardened as police officers drew their weapons. Two patrol officers blocked the hall.

“InterSec, stand down,” Laura said. The perimeter of her shield hit them from five feet away and thrust them to the side, pressing them against the walls as she passed.

Foyle stood at the door to his office, hands on his hips. “What seems to be the problem, Agent Tate?”

“We need to talk,” she said, backing him toward his desk.

No one comes in,
she sent to the Dananns, and, with a gust of essence, she slammed the door shut. Foyle stepped back until his thighs bumped against the desk. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said.

“Salvatore Gianni. Where is he?” she asked.

“He didn’t show for roll call this morning,” said Foyle.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” she said.

“I don’t know where he is. This is my office, Tate. Cut the bullshit before I have to explain why I had an entire squad room open fire on you,” he said.

Truth resonated in his voice. He didn’t know where Gianni was. “Let’s sit then,” she said, taking the guest chair. She released her body shield.

Foyle looked confused as he moved behind his desk. “What’s going on?”

Relaxed, Laura crossed her legs. “Gianni is wanted by InterSec in connection with an attempt on the life of Agent Janice Crawford. We’re considering him armed and dangerous and will take him down without hesitation if he resists arrest.”

“What’s your evidence?”

Laura shook her head. “Need-to-know. You’re not on that list. I want some answers from you, though. You had an undercover agent on your team. Who knew and when?”

Foyle grabbed his phone. “This conversation is over.”

Without moving, Laura sent a burst of essence at the phone and knocked it across the room. “I asked you a question, Captain. We can do this here or I can take you in under suspicion of aiding and abetting.”

Foyle went slack-jawed. “Are you crazy?”

Laura gave him a cold smile. “Don’t make this difficult.”

Fear finally started to register with him. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious. Answer my question,” she said.

“I received information that Janice Crawford was sent to infiltrate my team,” he said.

“You requested her,” Laura said.

He nodded. “I received the information after Sanchez died.”

“From?”

He stared and compressed his lips.

“I am not playing with you, Foyle. Answer the question.”

“Gianni had an informant,” he said.

“Who was the informant?”

“A fairy named Simon Alfrey,” said Foyle.

“Also wanted by InterSec. You believed the word of the worst member of your team?” she said.

“I confirmed it through another channel,” he said.

Laura nodded. “Hornbeck’s office.”

It was a logical conclusion, but Foyle seemed surprised she knew. “Yes.”

“We know you have a professional relationship with the senator. Did Gianni?” she asked.

Foyle shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Did Gianni work with you on the Archives ceremony?”

“No. I am a liaison for the senator. Tylo Blume’s people handled everything with the Capitol police.”

“What about Simon Alfrey?”

Foyle’s clenched his jaw. “He’s a consultant to the senator.”

“Details, Captain Foyle, I want details,” she said.

“Why don’t you ask the senator?” he asked.

Laura tilted her chin down. “Captain Foyle, I and the two agents with me have broad legal authority. You can answer my questions here and now, or they will drag you down to the InterSec facilities at the D.C. Guildhouse. Once there, you may have one phone call. Do not think that if you call the senator, you will enjoy sleeping in your own bed tonight, or tomorrow, or the foreseeable future. I can and will make your life absolutely miserable within the confines of my authority. This is your final warning. Now, what is Alfrey consulting on?”

“I don’t know. The senator meets with him occasionally,” he said.

“What was Alfrey doing at the house fire in Anacostia?”

Foyle looked genuinely startled. “How do you know he was there?”

Laura smiled. “You were sloppy, Foyle. We picked up an open video feed from the site.”

Laura stared at him while he considered his answer. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “He volunteered to search the house,” he said.

“You didn’t find that odd?” she asked.

Foyle shrugged. “Not until this moment. I was at a meeting with the senator when the call came in. Alfrey was there. He offered to help.”

“Why the secrecy?”

Foyle frowned. “I needed help I couldn’t get. He had security clearance through the senator. I made the call.”

“And you didn’t find it odd that Janice Crawford and Jonathan Sinclair almost died in an explosion?” she asked.

Foyle ran his hand over his head. “Alfrey said the place was clear. Afterward, he told me Crawford must have created the explosion.”

“Has Alfrey been involved with anything related to the upcoming Archives ceremony?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not that I know. He used to work with Blume, but not anymore.”

Relief swept over Laura. The Archives ceremony security, at least, wasn’t compromised. She decided to muddy the water for Foyle. “What about Sinclair? We know he acts as your driver. Have you ever seen him with Alfrey or Gianni?”

“Obviously, he works with Gianni here. They do detail work together at Blume’s club. Sinclair didn’t show up for roll call today either.”

“We know where he is,” said Laura. She stood. “You’ve been played for a fool, Captain. Count yourself lucky that that is my belief at the moment. Simon Alfrey is now considered a terrorist. If Gianni or Alfrey contacts you in any way, I want to know ten seconds later.”

Foyle glared at her. “You know I’ll be on the phone as soon as you leave here.”

Laura opened the door. “I said ten seconds later, Foyle. Do not make me come back,” she said without turning.

She stalked back through the station house, with the Dananns in her wake. Officers lined the hallways or took position behind desks and cabinets. Most had their guns drawn. When she reached the lobby, over a dozen more officers blocked the door, guns trained on her.

Shields only, unless they fire,
she sent to her escorts.

She didn’t break her stride as she approached. “My name is Mariel Tate of InterSec. My appointment with Captain Foyle is over. I’m leaving.”

She heard clicks as a few officers cocked their weapons. Like a ship breaking through waves, the hardened body shields pressed them back in confusion until the way to the exit was clear. No one fired.

In the bright sunlight outside, squad cars and police vans blocked the street and sidewalk. Laura stopped. “Danu’s blood,” she muttered. More officers scrambled into view at the end of the block. She cocked her head at the Dananns. “Looks like someone blocked my car in. Would you guys mind giving me a lift?”

She heard the distinctly hollow sound of someone chuckling inside a metal helmet. “Anytime, Agent Tate.”

Her security escort grasped the reinforced straps on her jumpsuit sewn in over her shoulder blades. They leaned forward, shifted the position of their wings, and drew essence from the air. With no effort, they shot into the sky.

Despite the enormous rush, Laura kept the grin off her face. It had been ages since anyone had taken her for a flight. The Anacostia neighborhood fell away. The seemingly fragile Danann’s wings hummed with energy as they shifted on currents of essence, not so high as to trigger government defense measures but high enough to give a glorious view of the seat of government. With the wide vista below her, she remembered why she had come to the city.

As they approached the Guildhouse, they swooped in lower, and the downside to staying in the city so long became visible. Too many cars and too many people. Lost hopes and dreams were evident in the surrounding neighborhoods that clustered around the Capitol like desperate moths to an indifferent flame. The Dananns set her gently on the sidewalk in front of the Guildhouse. No one paid attention. Fairies landing passengers in front of the Guildhouse were hardly a unique sight. She entered the building, hoping Terryn had had better luck finding Gianni.

CHAPTER 31

TERRYN GLARED AT
Laura from behind his desk. The voice on the other end of his phone was audible.

“I thought Mariel Tate was supposed to be a diplomat,” Sinclair whispered loud enough for Terryn to hear.

Laura gazed at him from under her brow. “Not helping, Jono.”

“I understand,” Terryn said for the fourth or fifth time. “I’ll talk to her . . . yes, thank you.”

He hung up. “What got into you?”

Laura tried to look contrite. “I’m sorry, Terryn. I walked in with my black suit and two Dananns and . . . got a little carried away.”

“Carried away? They mobilized practically an entire battalion,” said Terryn.

“I had to know that the Archives ceremony wasn’t compromised.”

“Foyle says you threatened him,” he said.

She shrugged dismissively. “Oh, please. It was a veiled threat at best.”

Sinclair twisted his lips to keep from smiling. A series of emotions crossed Terryn’s face—uncertainty and frustration. Laura couldn’t blame him. She liked to exert authority as Mariel once in a while to get results. It worked. It was nice to have an ID that let her stomp her feet anywhere she wanted sometimes. Admittedly, though, she didn’t usually cause a police response. Waking up angry hadn’t helped.

By the expression on his face, Terryn knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere berating her. “We’ll deal with this later. Gianni was not at home or at the Vault,” he said.