Stiletto (36 page)

“We’re taking the train down, so you’ll need to get changed. Quickly.”

Odette nodded unhappily and hurried into her and Alessio’s room, where she put on her fourth-best suit. Clements chivvied her out of the suite and down to the lobby. Apparently, there was a car waiting to whip them to Waterloo Station. They were just heading out the hotel’s main door when Felicity’s mobile rang.

“Clements,” the Pawn answered briskly. “Yes? Yes, sir, we’ll wait.” She snapped the phone shut. “They’re sending someone down with a briefing folder; more material came over the secure line. I’ll meet them at the lifts. You sit on that couch, and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be watching you.”

Odette sat, reluctantly obedient, and looked on without much interest as a swarm of businessmen were checked in. She glanced over to the bank of lifts and saw that Clements was indeed watching her. She looked down hastily. There was a bowl of apples on the coffee table in front of her, and she took one while she waited.

“Delicious, aren’t they?” said a voice beside her, and she turned, startled. A blond woman was sitting on the arm of the couch, also eating an apple. She was stunningly beautiful and had the best-looking skin Odette had ever seen on a non-Grafter. She smiled at Odette and rolled her eyes at the harried-looking hotel receptionists. “I expect they put the fruit out just to cover up for the long waiting times, but what can you do?” Her accent was British and, from what Odette could tell, very upper-class.

“Just have an apple and bide your time, I suppose,” said Odette.

“Not a bad motto for life in general,” remarked the woman with a smile, and Odette smiled back. “Have you got a busy day coming up?”

“I’m heading down to Portsmouth.”

“Well, word around the halls of the Apex is that the negotiations are going along quite well.”

Oh, she’s Checquy,
realized Odette.
And she doesn’t recoil from me. Finally, someone pleasant. And some pleasant news.

“That’s encouraging,” said Odette. “I thought I hadn’t made the best impression.” The woman shook her head, smiling as if she couldn’t imagine what had given Odette that idea. “Well, shall I see you at Apex House?” Odette asked.

“Nope, I’ll be stationed here for a few days,” said the woman. “Security detail. I’m mainly stuck hanging around in the lobby, reading complimentary magazines, watching the door, and being mistaken for a call girl by drunken businessmen.”

“We’ll try and be as unexciting as possible,” said Odette. “I promise.”

“I’d appreciate it,” said the woman.

“I’m Odette,” said Odette. “You probably already know that, though, from the files.”

“I do,” said the woman. “I’m Pawn Jelfs. Sophie. Good to meet you.”

“You too,” Odette said, feeling slightly better about the day. On the spur of the moment, she picked up an apple to take to Clements.

*

Clements guided Odette firmly through Waterloo Station. They’d missed the rush hour, but the crowds were still busy enough that the Checquy agent’s threat-detection instincts were on overdrive. She moved like an eel through the throng, avoiding even casual physical contact with people, and every time they
were
jostled, Odette could see the bodyguard actively restrain herself from taking down some hapless commuter with a chop to the throat. It was apparent that Pawn Felicity Clements was not at ease among civilians.

Odette did her best to remain focused, but she couldn’t help getting distracted by the station. The architecture, the people, and the energy were captivating. She kept stopping to take it all in. Judging from Clements’s sighs and other irritated mouth-noises, the Pawn wanted nothing more than to take Odette firmly by the hair and drag her to the train, but that would presumably have violated the Checquy policy of remaining unnoticed.

Eventually, after much pained sighing and pointed nudging on the part of Pawn Clements, they were seated in the first-class carriage of the train going from Waterloo to Portsmouth Harbour railway station. Clements disappeared into her folder of official documents, and Odette amused herself by looking out the window at the people walking down the platform.

As the train pulled out of the station, all Odette’s concerns were swept away, and she stared out the window, enthralled by the new perspective of the city. Then they were sweeping through the countryside and she didn’t care about the awkward silence at all.
God, this is a beautiful country.
It was so green it almost hurt her eyes.

When they arrived at Portsmouth, she could smell the ocean in the wind. She would have liked a chance to look around the city, but Clements led her briskly to a dark car that was waiting near the entrance of the station. Before the door was even shut, the driver was pulling away, sending the both of them bouncing around in the backseat.

“Where are we going?” ventured Odette once she’d unwedged herself from the corner. The car was moving so fast and taking turns so sharply that all she could tell about the city of Portsmouth was that it appeared to be made up mainly of buildings of some sort.

“The naval base,” said Clements. Odette nodded. She was dimly aware that Portsmouth had been a navy port for centuries, but she only remembered it because she’d read
Mansfield Park.
“The item they want me to look at is under armed guard there.” Odette felt a trifle surprised that the item, whatever it was, was being kept at a regular navy base and not some secret Checquy facility.
But it’s all government,
she told herself.
You’re going to be a government employee yourself.

If they don’t kill you.

At the entrance to the base, the Pawn rolled down the window so that the guard could identify the two of them. Salt air rushed in, and it carried with it an odor that prompted both Clements and Odette to wrinkle their noses.
Rotting meat,
thought Odette absently.
Must be a dead fish somewhere nearby.
Their names were on the guard’s list, and they were driven to an office where they signed in and were given passes. From there, the driver took them to a large warehouse right by the water. He led them through a series of corridors.

“So, is it okay if I observe you while you do this?” asked Odette. “Or is there a room I should go sit in? I would understand if you needed privacy.”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Clements. “You don’t have the best safety record when it comes to sitting alone in rooms.”

“You make it sound like I managed to injure myself while sitting quietly in a corner,” objected Odette. “I was fine sitting alone in that room. Up until some guy who decided he hated me came in and attacked me.”

“Yes, but I think it’s entirely possible that people here will hate you too.”

“Oh.”

“Plus,” said Clements, “I think you might actually be able to provide a useful perspective on the item.”

“Really?” said Odette, feeling rather chuffed despite herself. “Why? What is this item?”

At that point, the doors in front of them opened to reveal a preparation room. The far wall was made entirely of glass, and beyond it was the cavernous space of a hangar. The odor, which before had been merely unpleasant, burst out and punched them both square in the face. In the center of the hangar, suspended from gantries, was a dead thing the size of a passenger jet.

“There it is,” said Clements.

The creature was mottled gray and brown. Its shape put Odette in mind of a lumpy butternut squash, if a butternut squash were several stories high and smelled like the gym socks of a lesser god. It did not appear to have any limbs but was circled by voluminous fronds and frills that draped around it and trailed onto the ground. A web of massive steel cables looped under its body, suspending it, and rolls of fat drooped and bulged through the lattice. A huge scaffolding encircled the middle of it like a belt of iron girders.

The reek was astounding, even through the glass. Odette smelled salt and rot and a dull chemical odor. Water dripped off the beast and puddled on the tarpaulins that had been laid out underneath. A glazed black eye the size of a horse stared blankly at them from the side of the head.

Incredible,
thought Odette.
I’ve never seen anything like it.

Workers in blue coveralls clambered about on it. Some of them, suspended by climbing ropes, clung to the sides, and Odette could see that they were spraying something from backpack tanks onto the creature’s hide.

“What are they doing?” she asked.

“They’re covering it with polyurethane,” said Clements. “In case of spores or toxins. It’s the same stuff they use at some aircraft accidents to seal in the carbon fibers.”

“Where did that thing come from?” asked Odette weakly.

“The ocean,” said Clements. “The Checquy believe it was responsible for the sinking of a cargo ship a couple of weeks ago. Two days ago, the coast guard found it, dead, in the shallows of a remote bay, a gigantic column of seagulls circling above it, picking off the flesh. It was moved to the control of the Checquy. They used a few tugboats to tow it here under cover of darkness and then moved it to this hangar for examination.”

“But what
is
it?”

“We don’t know,” Clements said with a shrug. “A monster? The Checquy science division has gone mad for it. I gather it’s like nothing they’ve ever seen. Samples have been sent to our labs for analysis. Techs all over the country are clamoring to get assigned here. But they want me to take a look at it first, and I thought you might get something out of it.”

“This is so cool,” said Odette. For the first time, the work of the Checquy didn’t seem so frightening. This creature, for all its bizarreness, had been a living animal, and she knew living animals. Now it was a puzzle. And she liked puzzles.

They were given suits of dense rubber, like old-fashioned diving suits, and bulky filter masks. The two women entered the hangar and collared a passing tech, who guided them to one side, where two dozen tables had been set up end to end against the wall, all of them covered with papers, files, photographs, and computers. A swarm of blue-suited Checquy people bustled around, shuffling papers and typing madly. The tech introduced them to Dr. Jennifer Fielding, the head of the operation. It was hard to tell anything about her through her protective gear, but she had a businesslike manner and a rather loud voice that reverberated in her mask.

“Ah, Pawn Clements. You’re the psychometrist.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“They’ve prepared a platform for you over by the front of the subject,” said the doctor. “Pawn Roff here will take you to it. There’s a chair set up for you. Now, I gather that you don’t need to be touching the actual subject with your naked skin?”

“No, ma’am. My Sight can pass through most materials. It takes a little longer, but it means I don’t need direct contact.”

“Excellent; we’re still checking the creature for toxins and so on, and this means we won’t have to wait. Now, the first thing I want you to obtain is a good overview of what the creature is like inside. We’ve begun to investigate its interior and have commenced actual excavations into it, but a road map would be extremely useful. Depending on how long it takes you, I’d then be interested in the creature’s past. Where it came from and so on.”

“I understand, Dr. Fielding,” said Clements. “I’ll map out the interior, and then emerge. I can sketch out what I find, and then I’ll start looking into the past.”

“Good,” said the doctor. “Now, Miss Leliefeld, when I learned you were coming, I did a quick read-up on your studies, and I’d be very interested in your thoughts on this specimen. If you’d like to come with me, I can show you around.” Odette felt rather flattered by this.

Someone in the Checquy actually finds my abilities interesting instead of repulsive.

“Dr. Fielding,” said Clements awkwardly. “Are you certain that’s a good idea? I was assigned to Miss Leliefeld because —”

“I’m aware of why you were assigned,” interrupted Dr. Fielding. “But I can assure you, I do not harbor any ill feeling toward Miss Leliefeld because of her background. I am not a Pawn; I came to the Checquy based on my work, and I was not subjected to any ridiculous indoctrination of hatred for the Broederschap.”

To Odette’s shameful delight, Clements flushed crimson. “Miss Leliefeld will be completely safe with me,” continued the doctor, “and my team is professional enough that anyone with any problems will not act upon them. Now, time is passing, and you have a job to do.” The Pawn nodded reluctantly and walked away toward the creature.

“I am sorry about that,” said Dr. Fielding to Odette. “Working with the Checquy presents its own unique challenges. The Pawns are brought up in a very regimented environment, and they can have a peculiar perspective on the world. Fortunately, they tend to respond very well to direct commands given with authority.”

Odette reflected that she herself would probably respond well to any direct commands given by Dr. Fielding.

“Anyway, let us proceed. What do you think of our find?”

“It’s amazing,” said Odette fervently.

“I know,” said Dr. Fielding, her eyes crinkling in a smile behind her goggles. “That’s the thing about working for the Checquy — you get to see the most astounding stuff. That’s how they lured me away from a very promising career in academia.”

“How did they approach you?” asked Odette curiously. The role of the nonsupernatural Checquy employees was not something she had ever given much thought to.

“Actually, I approached them,” said Dr. Fielding. “Albeit unwittingly. I’m a marine biologist, and I thought I was applying for a research grant from some old foundation that dated back to Darwin’s time. I submitted all the paperwork, my CV, and a selection of my articles. I had to post them; they wouldn’t accept e-mail. I didn’t hear back for months, and then they called me down to Walmington-on-Sea for an interview in this dire-looking old building on a backstreet. I sat down, and they wheeled out a glass carboy of seawater. A massive thing, the size of my torso, with a light shining down on it. And they asked me what I thought.” She paused, her eyes distant, locked into that memory.