The Far Shores (The Central Series) (30 page)

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t believe in
unchecked authority. It bothers me, how successful these attacks were. I’m
equally troubled by the power Gaul has handed himself over the years. Hell, I’m
troubled by all sorts of things,” Michael said, laughing halfheartedly, shaking
out his dreadlocks. “Even if Gaul’s my friend, that doesn’t change the need for
accountability. Everyone is more honest when someone’s watching, no exceptions.
I believe in the rule of law. I believe that the Founder put the system of
checks and balances we use in Central in place for a reason. And I don’t think
anyone other than you is capable of standing up to Gaul.”

“That’s all politics,”
Alice said, shaking her head. “Don’t tell me this is about principle.”

“You’re right. It’s more
than that. And it isn’t just about you. I think that working with the kids
changed both of us for the better. Could just be that enough time passed for me
to grow up a little. Or, maybe it means I’ve fallen in love you.”

He felt her hand stiffen
beneath his own, and her mouth hung slightly open.

“What?”

“Maybe I never stopped loving
you,” Michael said, shrugging. “I forget.”

“Don’t you start
forgetting, too,” Alice said sternly. “You do remember who you’re talking to,
don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. The Chief
Auditor herself.”

“That’s right,” Alice
said, brushing her hair back. “By regulation, every Operator in Central is
compelled to aid an Auditor in commission of audit, personal and professional
considerations be damned. Those are the rules that you have such profound
respect for, are they not?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Michael
confirmed, touching her knee beneath the table.

“You have a room
already?”

“Right across the
street. Nice little hotel, top story.”

“Okay. We have a few
hours before we need to get moving. Take me to bed already,” Alice commanded, “since
you’re so fond of following orders.”

***

Gerald Windsor was nearly finished
disassembling the projector and packing his laptop for the class trip to the
Far Shores when he heard the door to the classroom open and then quietly shut.
He peered into the darkened auditorium, only able to see what the windows
illuminated.

“Hello?” He called out
to the figure at the door. “Can I help you?”

“I certainly hope so,
Mr. Windsor.”

Katya descended the
steps in a patterned dress and sandals, looking serious.

“Oh, Miss Zharova,”
Windsor said, finishing packing up his projector. “I’m surprised you are still
on campus. I thought that you might use the day off as an opportunity to visit home,
assuming the Black Sun didn’t have other work for you. I do hope that the
rumors of recent ugliness between the cartels have not affected you?”

“Just the usual
nonsense. Nothing to do with me, Mr. Windsor.”

“Then what brings you to
class during your day off?”

“No rest for the wicked,”
Katya said, smiling. “I had work that kept me around the Academy today.”

“I see. Well, whatever
the case, I am happy to be of assistance. What can I help you with, Miss
Zharova?”

“You could start,” she
suggested, walking slowly around the perimeter of the stage, “by calling me
Katya.”

Mr. Windsor hesitated
momentarily, then gave her a hesitant smile.

“I suppose. Given that
class isn’t currently in session. What is the issue, Katya?”

“I can’t sleep at night,
Mr. Windsor. I can’t sit still. I try not to think about it. But my mind keeps
going in circles. It really is terribly distracting.”

Gerald stopped packing
to glance apprehensively at the girl running her hand across the backs of the
first row of chairs.

“Katya,” he asked nervously,
“is something bothering you?”

“Oh, yes,” she responded,
with a broad smile. “Very much so.”

“Ah. Something
emotional, perhaps? Shall I call Rebecca? I’m certain she would make herself
available, should one of our students require it.”

“She can’t help me,”
Katya said, stopping directly in front of Windsor. “Only you can, Mr. Windsor.”

He cocked his head to
side.

“This is hardly my area
of expertise, but if you insist...very well. What seems to be troubling you?”

“You, Mr. Windsor.”
Katya took firm hold of his necktie. “You are troubling me.”

“I’m sorry,” Windsor
said, his jaw hanging open in dismay, “but there seems to be some sort of
misunderstanding…”

“Not in the slightest,”
Katya giggled. “I know just what I want. I always do. Tell me, Mr. Windsor –
have you read my file? Do you know what I am?”

“I know what you choose
to do, Katya,” he said gently, stepping back as far as the room would allow, till
his back was touching the whiteboard. “You work as an assassin. That, however,
is not who you are. It is a choice. There is a world of alternative
possibilities for a bright and talented young lady like yourself, should you
decide otherwise.”

She followed him, step
for step, staying close, but not quite making contact.

“I’ve really enjoyed
your class, Mr. Windsor. I always wanted to go to the Academy, not to that
awful Black Sun assassin’s training camp. Homeroom has been a lot of fun. Now,
though, I have to spend half my week at the Far Shores, and at most, I get two
days worth of class with you. As soon as they can think up an excuse, I’m off
to the Audits department, and it breaks my heart, knowing that I won’t be in
your class next year. You see, there’s something that I need, before I go…”

Windsor’s back squeaked
against the whiteboard.

“What’s that, Katya?”

“You, Mr. Windsor,” she
said, taking him firmly by his tie. “Just you.”

“Oh, dear,” Mr. Windsor
said quietly. “Can I offer you some tea?”

***

“Let’s hurry this up, okay? We’ve had
Auditor sightings all over the region in the last few weeks, and I don’t want
to bump into them right now.”

Colin shook his head and
smirked, but the rest of them appeared to speed the loading process at least
marginally. The first truck was ready to roll, but they couldn’t do anything
until both were loaded, and the second was less than halfway full. The boxes
were heavy, and it took two to lift a box. It would have been simpler to use a
forklift, but the warehouse the locals had arranged was bereft of such
niceties.

Emily told herself it
wouldn’t matter in another fifteen minutes, but she couldn’t shake the bad
feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“You should try to
relax,” Colin said, preening himself in the fragment of a mirror that he had
found attached to the corrugated aluminum wall. His hair was done in liberty
spikes, dyed a fire engine red and crunchy with excess product. “Shit is
routine, doll. Nothing to it.”

“Right,” Emily said,
curbing her temper. “Until it goes wrong.”

“What’s to go wrong? You
just need to stick near me, Emily,” he said, coming over to stand nearby, his
sleeveless shirt showing off the arms that he was so proud of – sculpted from
hours in the gym, and covered with a generous layer of multicolored tattoos. It
took an effort of will for Emily not to step away. Early in the assignment,
Emily discovered she despised the aftershave he wore habitually. “You’ll be
fine.”

She sidestepped his
efforts to put an arm around her. Colin had been hitting on her since they
started this job. The first night in Lithuania, he got completely inebriated at
the hotel bar and then tried repeatedly to invite himself back to her room. It
had come to slapping him – a first, in Emily’s experience – but that seemed to
have only piqued his interest. She was starting to envy Song Li’s aura of
decay, if only for the fact that even Colin appeared to be repelled by it.

“Thanks for the offer,
but I think I’d rather be killed by Auditors.”

“The things you say,
girl,” Colin replied, pausing to blow a kiss in her direction. “You’ll give it
up eventually, you know? They always do.”

Emily smiled primly, though
she felt like gagging. Killing one of her squad members would probably reflect
poorly on her leadership skills. When they returned to the Outer Dark, she
would make sure that something terrible happened to Colin through official
channels. She had at least that much pull with John Parson.

It had been a long week,
despite the luxury hotels and unlimited expense account. Emily was charged with
collecting a variety of materials and industrial components, probably for the
construction of another of the Etheric interference generators that John Parson
wanted installed at various locations across the globe. They required a fair
amount of engineering expertise to assemble, but that was something the
Anathema could provide. The more difficult requirement was the extensive amount
of precision manufactured components, which had to be procured without attracting
the notice of Central and their vast intelligence network. Not many firms were
capable of that kind of work, and fewer still on short notice, for clients who
refused to provide official documentation or proper clearances. Worst of all,
since the Auditors paid unscheduled visits to one of the Chinese facilities,
they had some idea of what to look for, making procurement even more difficult.
Greed, however, was universal, and cash was something John Parson could provide
in vast quantities, so anything was possible, if risky.

They started in the
Baltic region, then headed south, visiting manufacturing centers in Krakow and
Kiev. They remained in the Ukraine for a few days, collecting previously
arranged orders, paying off manufacturers and silencing witnesses, arranging
future shipments and transporting current ones. There had been difficulties
related to the recent political crisis, of course, but less than one might
expect. The majority of their suppliers operated in the eastern region, in the
Russian-speaking portion of the Ukraine, and were therefore relatively
unaffected by the civil disorder.

They spent a difficult
half of a week in Romania, purchasing software and the experts needed for its
installation, staying an extra day to eliminate the mafia group that had
provided access in the first place, should the Auditors arrive asking
questions. Colin got fantastically intoxicated on locally produced vodka and
crystal methamphetamine in Bucharest, leading to some ugly behavior with the prostitutes
their hosts provided, but John Parson’s endless well of ready cash had smoothed
that over. Arriving in Moldavia had been a relief, even if their arrival
coincided with warnings delivered by Alistair’s contacts that the Auditors were
close.

There had been a dodge
set up, a false operation in Georgia that had been meant to distract the
Auditors long enough to complete this stage of the plan, but something had gone
wrong. Mitsuru Aoki had departed the country only a few days after arrival, headed
back to Central to make some sort of report to the Director, and Alistair was concerned.
Nonetheless, the components they were loading were too valuable to abandon, so
he left Song Li and a handful of turned Operators and Weir as extra security,
and instructed Emily to expedite affairs as much as possible.

Emily watched Colin mess
about with his stupid spikes and wondered what John Parson would think of the
job she had done so far, and if his opinion of her would be very much
diminished should Colin have some sort of accident.

“I don’t know what’s got
you so nervous,” Colin groused in his strong Boston accent, flexing in the
mirror for his own benefit. “This shit has been easy. Boring, even.”

“Alistair was worried.
That’s enough to worry me. Would be for you as well, if you had any brains.”

“Sharp tongue. I like
that. I bet you’re all kinds of nasty behind closed doors, if you know what I
mean…”

She ignored him. It
wasn’t easy, but she had had a whole week to practice it.

One of the guards on
patrol, a remote viewer who had defected from the Black Sun, named Peters, slid
underneath the rolling door and hustled in her direction. Though she tried hard
to hide it, Emily was still getting used to her newfound authority and
responsibilities, and took a certain restrained joy in the way he hurried over
to report to her.

“Everything seems clear,”
he gasped, red in the face from running. “But I can’t find Frederickson.”

Emily shook her head.

“What do you mean?”

“Frederickson was
walking the outer perimeter. He should have been back five minutes ago. I did a
full sweep, pushed it out to the better part of a kilometer, and I can’t find a
thing moving. But he’s nowhere. Not even a body, and even if he were dead, he
still should have been warm enough for me to spot.”

Emily nodded in
agreement. Peter’s remote viewing was thermal in nature. Even blood on the
ground shouldn’t have cooled enough in a few minutes to avoid detection.

“Tell Song Li to get out
here,” she ordered Colin. “We’re about to have trouble.”