The Bloodline Feud (Merchant Princes Omnibus 1) (61 page)

‘Right,’ Miriam echoed. ‘What else has she been up to?’

‘She’s been visiting your friend Olga in the hospital. Once she spotted someone trying to tail her on the T, but she lost him quick. Olga is out of intensive and recovering nicely,
but she’s got a scar under her hairline and her arm’s in a sling. The guards – ’ Paulie shrugged. ‘What is it with those guys?’

‘What’s what?’

‘Last time she went, she said one of them said she ought to come home. Any idea what that’s about?’

‘Uh, yes, probably he was a relative of hers. You say she’s visiting Olga now?’

‘Why, sure. I’ve got an odd feeling about her. Great kid, but she’s hiding something. I think.’

‘If she wanted me out of the way she’s had more than enough opportunities to do it quietly.’

‘There is that,’ Paulette agreed. ‘I don’t think she’s out to get you. I think it’s something else.’

‘Me too. I just want to know for sure what she’s hiding. The way she and Kara were planted on me by Angbard’s office, she’s probably just reporting back to him –
but if she’s working for someone else . . .’ The fax machine bleeped and began to emit a page of curling paper. ‘Hmm. Maybe I should check my voice mail.’

She didn’t, not at first. Instead she went back into the bathroom and spent almost an hour standing in the cramped shower cubicle, at first washing and thoroughly cleaning her hair with
detergents of a quality unimaginable in New Britain, even for the rich – then just standing there, staring at her feet beneath a rain the temperature of blood, wondering if she’d ever
feel clean again. Thinking about the expression on Roger’s face when he’d been ready to murder a secret policeman for her, and about Burgeson’s kindly face, high ideals, and low
friends. Friends who believed fervently in political ideals Miriam took for granted, and who were low subversives destined for the gallows if Smith and his friends ever caught up with them. Gallows
where whoever had kidnapped or murdered Iris belonged – and that in turn led Miriam to think about her mother and how little time she’d spent with her in the past year, and how many
questions she’d never asked. And more questions for Roland, and his face as he’d turned away, hurt by her rejection; a rejection he didn’t understand because it wasn’t
anything personal, it was a rejection of the world he would unintentionally lock her into, rather than the person he was.

Miriam had lots of things to think of – all of them bleak.

She finished with the shower in much the same black mood she’d been in that fateful evening when she’d first opened the locket and unhitched a mind-gate leading to a world where
things turned out to be paradoxically worse.
Why bother?
she wondered.
Why do I keep going?
True love would be a great answer if she believed in it. But she was too much the
realist: While she’d love to find Roland in her bed and fuck him senseless – the need for him sometimes brought her awake from frustrated dreams in the still small hours – there
wasn’t a cozy little cottage for two at the end of that primrose path. Miriam had held her daughter in her arms, once, twelve years ago, kissed her on the head and given her up for adoption.
Over the next few years she’d spent nights agonizing over the decision, trying to second-guess the future, to decide whether she’d done the right thing.

The idea of bringing another child, especially a daughter, into the claustrophobic scheming of the Clan filled her with horror. She was a big girl now, and the idea of expecting a man to protect
her didn’t strike her as cool. That wasn’t what she’d gone through pre-med and college and divorce and most of med school and the postgraduate campus of hard knocks for. But
facing all this on her own was so daunting that sometimes it made her lie awake wondering if there was any point.

She wandered through into the bedroom and sat on the futon beneath the platform bed in the corner. Her phone was still sitting on the floor next to it, plugged in to charge but switched off. She
picked it up, switched it on, waited for it to log on, then hit her mailbox.

‘You have messages. Message one . . .’
A gravelly voice, calling from ten days ago. ‘Miriam?’ She sat up straight: It was Angbard! ‘I have been thinking
very deeply and I have concluded that you are right.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘Holy shit,’ she whispered.

‘What you said about my security is correct. Olga is at evident risk. For the time being she remains in the hospital, but when you return, I release her into your care until Beltaigne,
when I expect you
both
to appear before the Clan council to render an account of your persecution.’

Miriam found herself shaking. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘There’s no news about your mother. I will continue to search until I find something positive to report to you. I am sorry I can’t tell you anything more about her
disappearance. Rest assured that no stone will go unturned in hunting for her assailants. You may call me at any time, but bear in mind that my switchboard might – if you are correct –
be intercepted. Good-bye.’

Click. ‘Message two – ’
Miriam shook her head. ‘Hello! This is a recorded greeting from Kleinmort Baintree Investments! Worried about your pension? You too
– ’ Miriam hit the delete button.

‘Message three:
Call me. Please?’ It was Roland, plaintive. She hit ‘delete’ again, feeling sick to her stomach.
‘Message four:
Miriam? You there?
Steve, at
The Herald
. Call me. Got work for you.’

It was the last message. Miriam stared at her phone for a good few seconds before she moved her thumb to the delete key. It only traveled a millimeter, but it felt like miles. She hung up.
‘Did I just hear myself do that?’ she asked the empty room. ‘Did I just decide to ignore a commission from
The Herald
?’

She shook her head, then began to rummage through the clothes in her burnished suitcase, looking for something to wear. They felt odd, and once dressed she felt as if she’d forgotten
something. ‘Weird,’ she muttered and went back out into the corridor just as the front door banged open, admitting a freezing gust of cold air.

‘Miriam!’ Someone in a winter coat leapt forward and embraced her.

‘Brill!’ There was someone behind – ‘Olga! What are you doing here?’

‘What do you think?’ Olga looked around curiously. ‘What kind of house do you call this?’

‘I don’t. It’s going to be a doppelgängered post office, though. Brill, let go, you’re freezing!’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said earnestly. ‘The duke, he sent a message to you with Lady Olga – ’

‘Yo! Coffee?’ Paulie took one look at them and ducked back into the kitchenette.

‘Come in. Sit down. Then tell me everything,’ Miriam ordered.

They came in, stripping off outdoor coats: Olga had acquired a formal-looking suit from somewhere, which contrasted oddly with her arm in a sling. She shivered slightly. ‘How
strange,’ she remarked, looking round. ‘Charming, quaint! What’s that?’

‘A fax machine. Everything feeling strange?’ Miriam looked at her sympathetically. ‘I know that sensation – been having it a lot, lately.’

‘No, it’s how
familiar
it feels! I’ve been seeing it on after-dinner entertainments for so long, but it’s not the same as being here.’

‘Some of those tapes are quite old. Fashions change very fast over here.’

‘Well.’ Olga attempted a shrug, then winced. ‘Oh, coffee.’ She accepted the offered mug without thanks. Paulie cast her a black look.

‘Uh, Olga.’ Miriam caught her eye.

‘What?’

‘This is Paulette. She’s my business manager and partner on this side.’

‘Oh!’ Olga stood up. ‘Please, I’m so sorry! I thought you were – ’

‘There aren’t any servants here,’ Brill explained patiently.

‘Oh, but I was so rude! I shouldn’t have – ’

‘It’s okay,’ said Paulette. She glanced at Miriam. ‘Is this going to happen every time? It could get old fast.’

‘I hope not. Okay, Olga. What did Uncle A have to say for himself?’

‘He came to visit me shortly after you left. I’d had time to think on your explanations, and they made uncommon sense. So much sense, in truth, that I passed them on to him in a most
forthright manner.’

Brill cracked up.

‘Care to share the joke?’ Miriam asked carefully.

‘Oh, it was mirthful!’ Brill managed to catch her breath for a moment before the giggles came back. ‘She told him, she told – ’

Olga kept her face carefully neutral. ‘I pointed out that my schooling was incomplete, and that I had been due to spend some time here in any case.’

‘She
pointed
out – ’

‘Uh.’ Miriam stared at Olga. ‘Did she by any chance have something pointed to do the pointing out with?’

‘There was no need, he took the message,’ Olga explained calmly. ‘He also said that desperate times required desperate measures, and your success was to be prayed for by want
of avoiding – ’ she glanced at Paulette – ‘the resumption of factional disputes.’

‘Civil war, you mean. Okay.’ Miriam nodded. ‘How long have you been out of the hospital?’

‘But Miriam, this was
today
,’ said Brilliana.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I think I’m losing the plot.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘Too many balls in the air, and some of them are on fire.’ She looked around at
her audience; Paulie was watching them in fascination. ‘Olga, did you keep the locket you took from the gunman?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. In that case, you may be able to help me earn more than the extra million dollars I borrowed from Angbard last month.’ She pretended to ignore Paulette’s sharp intake of
breath. ‘The locket doesn’t work in this world,’ she explained, ‘but if you use it on the other side, it takes you to yet another place – more like this one than your
home, but just as different in its own way.’

She took a mouthful of coffee. ‘I’m setting up a business in, uh, world three,’ she told Olga. ‘It’s going to set the Clan on its collective ear when they find out.
It’s also going to flush out our mystery assassins, who come from world three. Right out of wherever they’re hiding. The problem is, it takes a whole day for me to world-walk across in
each direction. Running a business there is taking all my time.’

‘You want me to be a courier?’ asked Olga.

‘Yes.’ Miriam watched her. ‘In a week or two I’ll own a house in world three that is in exactly the same place as this office. And we’ve already got the beginnings
of a camp in world one, in the woods north of Niejwein, on the same spot. Once I’ve got the house established, it’ll be possible to go from here to there without having to wander
through a strange city or know much about local custom – ’

‘Are you trying to tell me I’m not fit to be allowed out over there?’ Olga’s eyes blazed.

‘Er, no! No!’ Miriam was taken aback until she noticed Brill stifling laughter. ‘Er. That is, only if you want to. Have you seen enough of Cambridge yet? Don’t you want
to look around here, first, before going to yet another world?’

‘Do I want – ’ Olga looked as if she was going to explode: ‘Yes! I want it all! Where do I sign? Do you want it in blood?’

*

Early evening, a discreet restaurant on the waterfront, glass windows overlooking the open water, darkness and distant lights. It was six-thirty precisely. Miriam nervously
adjusted her clothing and shivered, then marched up to the front desk.

‘Can I help you?’ asked the concierge.

‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘I’m Miriam Beckstein. Party of two. I believe the person I’m expecting will already be here. Name of Lofstrom.’

‘Ah, just a moment – yes, please go in. He’s at a window table, if you’d just come this way – ’

Miriam went inside the half-deserted restaurant, still filling up with an upmarket after-work crowd, and headed for the back. After weeks in New Britain she felt oddly exposed in a cocktail
dress and tux jacket, but nobody here gave her a second glance. ‘Roland?’

He’d been studying the menu, but now he rocketed to his feet, confusion in his face. ‘Miriam – ’ He remembered to put the menu down. ‘Oh. You’re just –
’

‘Sit down. I don’t want you to offer me a seat or hold doors open when it’s easier for me to do it myself.’

‘Uh.’ He sat, looking slightly flustered. She felt a sudden surge of desire. He was in evening dress, like the first time. Together they probably looked as if they were heading for a
night at the opera. A couple.

‘It’s been how long?’ she asked.

‘Four weeks and three days,’ he said promptly. ‘Want the number of hours, too?’

‘That would be – ’ She stopped and looked at the waiter who’d just materialized at her elbow. ‘Yes?’

‘Would sir and madame care to view the wine list?’ he asked.

‘You go ahead,’ she told Roland.

‘Certainly. We’ll have the Château Lafite ’93, please,’ he said. The waiter scurried away.

‘Come here often?’ she asked, amused despite her better judgment.

‘A wise man said, when you’re planning a campaign, preparation is everything.’ He grinned wryly.

‘Are we safe here?’ she asked. ‘Really?’

‘Angbard sent a message. Your house appears to be clear, but it might be a bad idea to sleep over there. It’s not doppelgängered, and even if it was, he couldn’t vouch for
its security. Apart from
that
– ’ He looked at her significantly. ‘I made sure nobody back at the office knows where I am tonight. And I wasn’t tailed
here.’

The wine arrived, as did the waiter. They spent a minute bickering good-naturedly over the relative merits of a warming chowder against the chef’s way with garlic mushrooms. ‘What
has Angbard got you doing?’

‘Well.’ He looked ruefully out of the window. ‘After our last meeting it was like you’d thrown a hornet’s nest through his window. Everybody got to walk around
downtown Cambridge in the snow, looking for a missing old lady in a powered wheelchair. I ended up spending a week spying on a private security firm we’d hired. Didn’t find much except
a few padded expense claims. Then Angbard quietly started shuffling people around – again, nothing turned up except a couple of guards on the take. So then he put me back on regular courier
duty in the post room, with a guard assignment or two on the side, moved himself to a high-rise in New York – real estate above the thirtieth floor is going cheap these days – left
Matthias running Fort Lofstrom and Angus in Karlshaven, and declared that the search for your foster-mother couldn’t go on any longer. He figured we weren’t going to find anything new
after that much time – the trail was cold. Well.’ He shrugged. ‘I can’t tell you any specifics about my current assignments, but his lordship told me that if you got in
touch, I was to – ’ He paused.