Stiletto (29 page)

“She says that she’s the new roommate,” said Alessio.

“I think you misunderstood,” said Odette. “She’s actually my new...” She trailed off as she searched for an appropriate word, eventually settling for
“bewaarder.”

“What happened to Bannister?” asked the boy. “Did he fulfill his life’s dream and climb up his own asshole?”

Odette winced and cast an apologetic look at Felicity. “Alessio, please try not to be disrespectful about our hosts.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Felicity said. “I know Oliver Bannister. The greatest tragedy of his life is that he went to the world’s most exclusive school and he can’t tell everyone about it. He’s a complete twat,” she assured them. She noticed the boy mouthing her words, filing them away for later use.
Marvelous, I’m such a good ambassador for our culture.
“Anyway, in addition to being your new bodyguard, I’m also your new roommate.”

“You’re what?” said Odette.

“I’ll be staying with you.”

“You can’t be serious!” The words were out before she could think about them, and she flushed at her own rudeness. The Pawn’s eyes narrowed a little, and she spoke before Odette could apologize.

“Quite serious,” said Felicity. “The Checquy rooms in this hotel are all full, but I understand there’s a spare bedroom in this ridiculously large suite they’ve given you.”

“There isn’t,” said Odette.
I don’t care if I’m being rude, I don’t want this killer staying with us. Bad enough that she’ll be following me around all day.

“Well, we
kind of
have a spare bedroom,” said Alessio, who, now that they’d established Felicity wasn’t there to kill them or deliver a hamburger, seemed quite intrigued by the development. Odette gave him an evil look.

“That doesn’t sound good,” said Felicity. “Wait —
we?
”

“Yeah, Odette and I share this suite.”

“That sounds even worse. So, may I come in?” They drew back to let her in, and she picked up the backpack she’d brought, stepped inside, and took in the room. “Crikey,” she said without thinking. “This place is bigger than my whole house.”
And who is footing the bill for this? The British taxpayers?

“You’re getting a bodyguard?” Alessio asked Odette. “Why? Is this related to the fact that at the end of every day, you’re wearing a different outfit than the one you started in?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Odette. “I haven’t been doing that.”

“Yes, you have,” said Alessio. Odette tried not to think of the two suits that she had wadded up and hidden in her luggage. One was stained with the blood from that injured Pawn and the other covered with that horrible orange oil that had congealed all over her.
I should just buy new suits,
she thought grimly.
I’m down to three that aren’t stained with unacceptable fluids.

“I’ve been assigned to protect your sister because she’s managed to alienate the entire organization,” said Clements. “There are concerns that if she’s left unattended, she may be subject to harassment or violence.” The two Grafters looked at her in shock.

Damn it!
thought Felicity.
This is why I should not be working in any sort of diplomatic role.

“But you don’t need to worry,” she said in an effort to be reassuring. “I will make sure that no one kills you. Or, if they do, that they’ll regret it.” Judging from their still-dropped jaws, this guarantee did not allay their concerns.

“So, don’t
I
need a bodyguard?” asked Alessio, which both women understood to mean
Why don’t
I
get a hot woman to follow me around?

“No one hates you that much,” Odette told him absently. “Except me.”

“I see only two bedrooms,” said Felicity, turning back to them. “Is he sleeping on the couch?”
Or are you sleeping upside down in a closet?
she thought.

Then she realized that, in addition to thinking this, she’d actually said it. Alessio appeared amused, but Odette looked distinctly annoyed.

Felicity tried to recover, drawing her lips back in what she hoped was a charming smile. They did not look particularly charmed.

“That’s Alessio’s room,” said Odette finally, nodding toward one of the doors. “And that’s the bedroom I’ve been keeping all my things in, but I don’t sleep there. I actually sleep in the bathtub.”

“Oh,” said Felicity. Odette was mildly entertained by the warring expressions on the Pawn’s face as the allied forces of courtesy and professionalism battled with the axis of disgust and incredulity.

I don’t think I need to enlighten her any further,
Odette thought.
Let her imagination run riot.

“Anyway,” she said, “Alessio’s current room has its own smaller en suite with a shower and a toilet. I guess we’ll put Alessio in my bedroom, and you can have his. Alessio, start moving your stuff into my room. I’ll call housekeeping and let them know we need the sheets changed. And the porters are bringing up your luggage?” Odette asked.

“This is my luggage,” said Felicity flatly, holding up her backpack.

“Oh.”

For the next few minutes, the suite was a scene of frantic activity. In short order, Alessio’s hamburger and the chambermaid with the sheets arrived. Alessio frantically moved armloads of clothes, textbooks, and equipment from one room to the other while Felicity unpacked. Odette, after being politely (to her relief) rebuffed in her offer to help Felicity, contributed by staying out of the way, tipping the hotel staff, and eating Alessio’s french fries.

All the while, Odette watched the Pawn out of the corner of her eye. Her augmented vision gave her an excellent view, and she noted all the details she could.

Dirty-blond hair pulled back in a nondescript ponytail.
Excellent skin,
thought Odette with a flush of envy.
Without any help from makeup.
Pleasant features, even as she scanned the room for threats with a suspicious expression on her face. Felicity Clements was taller and more muscular than she was, but she was not bulky, not a bodybuilder. Instead, she gave an impression of extreme fitness. As an anatomist, Odette knew that her musculature would combine strength and flexibility.

The Englishwoman moved carefully, like a cat in an unfamiliar house. Each time someone new came to the suite, Clements was present, evaluating, and Odette noted that she did not return to her unpacking until the person had left and the door was safely shut.

Then she remembered, with a jolt in her stomach, that the Clements dossiers — which not only discussed the intimate details of her new roommate’s life but also constituted classified government material that had been obtained illegally — were, at that moment, actually on the coffee table, not five meters away, where she’d been reviewing them.
Oh, crap.
She moved her eyes minutely and zoomed in.

Yes, the files were definitely there, spread about, painfully obvious for all to see. In fact, they were open to a picture of Clements in her teenage years, snapped while she was running in an Estate athletics carnival. It was not a flattering picture — she was pouring with perspiration, her red face caught in an expression that suggested she was dying of asphyxiation. As far as incriminating evidence went, it would possibly be the most awkward discovery in the history of espionage.

She cursed softly in Flemish.

Extremely calmly, and extremely casually, Odette got up from the couch and moved over to the table. She began gathering up the pages gently, trying not to rustle them at all.

Quickly,
she told herself.
Quickly.

“Odette?” said a voice behind her, and she literally jumped into the air with a little shriek. She turned to see Alessio standing there. Then Felicity bolted out of her room, her fists clenched and up. Presumably she’d been summoned by the sound of her protectee’s shriek.

Conceal the files!
Odette’s instincts screamed at her, but they did not offer any useful suggestions for doing that. She froze, her fingers inexplicably spread in the “jazz hands” formation. Fortunately, the other two people stared in utter bemusement at her to the exclusion of all else, including the dossiers.

“What is
wrong
with you?” asked Alessio.

“You startled me, is all,” said Odette. “What do you want?”

“I need the code to the room safe.” She gave it to him, warning him not to tip over any of the vials that were in there. He went into the bedroom, and Clements gave her a long, measuring look before returning to her room.

Well, I’ve certainly justified any preconceived notions she might have had about my being a freak,
thought Odette. She hurriedly gathered all the papers up and cast about for a place to store them. With Alessio now occupying her bedroom, any possibility of concealing them there was effectively quashed.
And if I hide them in this room, Clements or the maids might find them
. A solution occurred to her.

“Where are you going?” asked Felicity, her eyes narrowed. She had poked her head out of the bedroom before Odette had even put her hand on the doorknob.

“Just next door,” said Odette. “To see Marie — the head of security. I’ll be right back.” The Pawn looked at her for a long minute, and then nodded her head.

Damn right, you’re nodding your head,
thought Odette with a flash of irritation.
You don’t get to tell me where I can and can’t go. Especially since I’ve already been told I can’t go anywhere.

*

Felicity stepped out of the bedroom and watched her go, biting her lip. She had no experience as a bodyguard, so she had no idea how paranoid she ought to be.
But there are guards all over this floor, including at the lifts and the fire stairs,
she told herself.
So she’s not going to be wandering out into the city.

That said, she and I are going to have to sit down and go over the rules,
she resolved.
She is not going off this floor without me.
No harm is supposed to come to her.

Unless I bring it myself.

And that was the real issue floating in the back of her mind. At any moment, she might get the call to kill that girl. Felicity knew how to do it, but she’d never been asked to kill someone with whom she was sharing a front door. Felicity was firm that she was not going to get attached to this woman.

It helped, however, that she was not predisposed to like Odette Leliefeld anyway. Quite aside from the whole Grafter issue, she gave off the vibe of a rich, spoiled Eurotrash girl. Maybe it was the fact that her outfit cost as much as Felicity’s entire wardrobe, or maybe it was the way she seemed completely at ease in the ridiculously luxurious hotel suite. It wasn’t that Felicity would take
pleasure
in killing her, but disliking the Grafter might take some of the sting out of doing it if she had to.

Then she turned to see Alessio looking at her.

And he’s a weird little guy too,
she thought. According to the files, he hadn’t had any surgeries yet, although apparently there were some Grafter-type chemicals and inoculations already in his system.
Jesus, I hope I don’t have to kill him too.
He didn’t even look like he’d committed to puberty, let alone evil.

“Yes?” she said.

“Have you finished unpacking?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to show you around?” he asked.

“I suppose that’s a good idea,” said Felicity.
I should reconnoiter the place.

“Well, to begin with, this is your room,” he announced grandly, heading toward the room she’d just been unpacking in.

“You don’t ever come in here,” she told him flatly, shutting the door.
Establish boundaries.

“What if I need to use the lavatory, and my sister is in the other one?” he asked cunningly.

“Then you hold it. I am obliged to prevent harm from coming to your sister,” said Felicity. “No one said anything about you.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, then, this is the sitting room.” He gestured around at the room they were currently occupying. “You may be familiar with it, since you’ve already been in here for quite a few minutes.”

“Yes,” said Felicity, “but I haven’t taken a close look.” It really was a beautiful place, large, bright, and modern. There was a dining area with a polished table large enough to host a fairly big dinner party. The sofas were plush, the sort you could sink into for a good long hibernation. An enormous television was attempting to hang discreetly on the wall and failing miserably. Glamorous coffee-table books lay artfully displayed on glossy coffee tables. You felt more sophisticated just for being in the room.

The current occupants had added a few touches, however, which detracted a little from the fashion-shoot vibe of the place. Distinctly unglamorous copies of anatomical textbooks, bristling with bookmarks, lay splayed amongst the (seemingly aghast) coffee-table books. There were partially filled-out government forms on the dining table. A small fern in a pot trailed tendrils of green and glittering copper. And on a sideboard stood a large clear plastic box containing a thick layer of wood shavings and a pair of flamboyantly patterned...

“Mice,” said Felicity.

“Those are mine,” said Alessio.

“I didn’t think that a hotel would let you bring pets,” said Felicity. “My dog is with a sitter.”

“I told them that these were my seeing-eye mice.”

“What?” asked Felicity, looking at him.

“Not really,” said Alessio. “And they’re not pets, they’re part of my studies.”

“How did you get them into the suite?”

“They’re
mice,
” said the boy. “It’s not like I had to smuggle in a pair of aardvarks. And besides, in a hotel this expensive, they’re used to privileged guests bringing their pets. If it’s not some celebutante with her Chihuahua, it’s a movie star with his angora goat or a pop musician with a large man on a leash.”

“All right, so what are their names?” asked Felicity. She was trying not to be intimidated by the fact that the kid was obviously much more familiar with a life of luxury than she was. She peered down at the rodents, which were extremely peculiar-looking. Their left sides were pure glossy black while their right sides were a flat, spotless white. The line that divided the colors could have been drawn with a ruler. Their right eyes were red, their left eyes black. Apart from their chromatic bisection, they appeared to be perfectly normal and were engaged in the traditional mouse activities of wandering around and squeaking.