Code Name Igor

by Pam Uphoff

  "So . . . why is, was, Lord Vladimir the one who owns the house?"

  Pauli snorted. "The H-house is owned by a Historic T-trust. Only the Descendants of Lord Ivan Andre Vinogradov c-can live in it, an' only the T-trust can throw one of th-them out. The Trust p-pays all expenses. So while H-his L-lordship could give Lord Axel the s-smallest office an' smallest s-suite, he can't, c-couldn't, l-legally, throw h-him out."

  And a smart one, stutter and low class accent or not.

  "So, the older brother lived here? Lord Axel's father?"

  The girl fielded that one. "They had rooms in the East Wing, third floor but mostly lived Up Top, by the Research Center. When his father died, His Lordship moved Lord Axel to a room near Andre's and Nikoli's suites."

  "I . . . see." Interesting legal situation. But how could Lord Vladimir not know that Lord Axel was older than his sons?

  Then the lab boys arrived and he turned them loose on the dining room. The kids stayed to watch the actions of the experts at collecting physical evidence. And running a few fast field tests.

  Vlad sought out the twin sons.

  He found them in Lord Vladimir's office swearing at either the computer or the gray haired man with the Executive Plate in his head. Very different from either the Servant implants or what everyone calls Cyborgs—they're all cyborgs whether they like to be called that or not—but the Executive Plates don't mangle intelligence or block mentalist powers.

  They do have onboard data bases, and are valued, and valuable . . . possessions.

  I wonder who owns this fellow, now?

  "I can't! It's blocked, the passcodes have all been changed." The exec cringed under the looming glares of the twins, then flicked a glance toward Vlad, standing in the doorway.

  The twins whipped around, and Vlad walked in. "Frustrating, isn't it, to be so close to freedom."

  Unless you've got a dad who's proud of your independence and hard work, like mine.

  "Trying to find out about those trusts before your cousin gets his hands on them?" He shook his head. "Tell me about him? What's up with the misunderstanding about his actual age?"

  Nikoli snorted. "Our parents weren't on speaking terms for a long while. I guess we were seven or eight before an uncle we'd never heard of dropped by. 'What have you been up to?’ says Father. 'Got married and had a son,' says this stranger. 'Well, same here, two sons, bring your wife and son by, sometime.' And he did."

  "Scrawny, funny-looking kid. Much smaller than we were. Sort of darkish skinned, but that red hair! Heh. His mother was half-experimental. And looked it. Almost as dark as an African, but that flaming red hair, barely showing any gray. And claiming to be a scientist!"

  Andre leaned forward. "A woman! And she didn't have a chip! She was . . . You see, Axel von Richter's youngest son was an explorer. He'd spend a couple of years on a newly discovered World assessing it for its utility, then come home for a few months and head out for the next. Until one time he brought back with him this baby girl he said was his daughter, and that she was from a Medieval level world where some of the Natives had Mentalist abilities."

  Nikoli broke in. "And he got permission to not chip her, so the labs could study her for those Mentalist abilities! Can you believe that!"

  Andre snorted. "And our uncle married her!"

  "And she was old! She claimed to be sixty-something when Axel was born. Utterly ridiculous!"

  Vlad forced himself to look alarmed. "Well, I'll have to look into this!" Tall Tale. He shook his head. "Right now, however . . . Is there somewhere I can interview each of you privately?"

  ***

  "Don't believe a word that little weasel says. He's clever with his lies, and he's hiding things. He goes off for days, sometimes weeks. Says he was with some woman, or having dinner with friends, and laughs and says, "I guess you missed having someone around to run your little errands. Have you considered a servant?' He says. 'Or one of the kids. Or are you afraid you'll discover they're smarter than you are?' Stupid little bastard . . . hey! Now there's an idea. I'll bet his parents weren't really married! I'll find out. And find out when he was really born!"

  Vlad leaned back and let Lord Andre babble.

  Finally steered him into a description of the dinner. It involved Lord Axel "watching Father like a snake." "Making incendiary comments." and "Obviously expecting exactly what happened." Otherwise his description of the dinner was similar enough to the girl's occasional glimpses.

  "Father suddenly leaned and swept his plate, silver, the wine glass, everything . . . right off the table, then he tried to stand and tipped the chair and went over with it . . . and his eyes were open and blinking but he didn't even try to get up."

  And then his recollection of the events at the hospital.

  "Axel got there a few seconds before us. He was walking toward the door when we pulled up, and didn't even wait for us. He was talking to a receptionist and she told us where to find father." He heaved a deep breath. "Father was . . . well, you saw him, maybe half an hour later. The doctor recommended taking him off life support, and Axel objected, said we needed an official Council Observer and started tapping away on his phone."

  Andre bared his teeth. "He didn't even have to look up the number. He had it all planned out and ready. We stood around until all those observers showed up. The Official one first, the Intel fellow, then that Records guy."

  Andre frowned. "Why Intel? Why did they need an Observer? They could have talked to you police later. Look into that."

  Ordering me around? Fat chance . . . but an interesting thought.

  "By then I'd started putting it all together and realized that Axel had murdered Father, to get his hands on the Family Trust accounts. Now he can take twenty percent! Legally! They need to all be locked up so he can't steal it all."

  "So, you accused him?"

  "Nikoli spoke first. We both talked. Demanded an investigation. Tests for poisons, and so forth. Axel called us idiots. And asked what sorts of stupid mystery novels we'd been reading . . . That's about the time you walked in."

  Vlad thanked him, and hunted down Lord Nikoli.

  Who turned stubborn, and refused to speak without a lawyer.

  Heh. A sign of intelligence.

  Vlad suggested he call his lawyer (blank look) later in the morning, and he'd talk to him then.

  The lab was finishing up, orange keep-out tape across both doors.

  And the Housekeeper was back fussing. " . . . the food will spoil and smell! It's unhealthy!"

  Poor Forty-one was blocking her physically.

  "Anya, is it?" Vlad strolled up, gathering a bit of power and reaching for command. "I know it's horribly inconvenient, and a bit nasty, but Lord Vladimir was such an important man. We must be sure there are no irregularities. You will not enter this room until I give you permission. You will not send others to this room until I give you permission."

  He released his mental grip and shooed her away. She ran. In tears.

  "She's got a horrible compulsion on her, to clean or have cleaned, every bit of disorder she sees. But we do need to finish fairly quickly, she's right about the food spoiling." Vlad looked at the lab chief.

  Who shook his head. "Nothing on the fast tests, we'll run the sensitive array as soon as we're back in the lab."

  "Good." He looked around and spotted one of his very unofficial assistants. "Where would I find Lord Axel?"

  "In h-his r-rooms." Pauli pointed at the left side stairs. "I'll sh-show you."

  The family living quarters never showed up in films. They were interesting. The sheer size of the building meant that there were interior rooms with no windows. So the hallways running the length of this wing were set back about forty feet from the exterior walls to create long rooms with the windows at the far end. The first room, a sitting room with the door open, had modern furnishings without any personal touches.

  Giving away nothing.

  "The open d-door means Lady Veronika is h-home to v-visitors. Th-these a
re all Nikoli's along this s-side, to the halfway point. Th-then Andre's. Being the older s-son he bagged the c-corner room."

  That door was closed. Apparently Lady Anastaciya was not welcoming visitors.

  The corridor, rather than looping around to meet the front cross-corridor as he'd expected, ended three more doors down. "It doesn't connect?"

  "The Old C-council Hall, the upper p-parts get up here." Pauli tapped at the second door.

  "Come."

  Pauli opened the door and walked in.

  Vlad followed.

  The long room with the northeast facing windows, he'd expected. And the comfortable chair angled to catch the best reading light was ordinary enough. The sheer number of books, and the number of bookcases, mismatched, stuffed full, and covering the entire length of one wall and part of the opposite was a bit surprising. But the wide doorway into the next room with the wall of electronics, the big work table . . .

  Lord Axel pushed away from the big desk that was up against the front wall. "Come in. Pauli, grab a chair from the workroom for the Senior Detective." He stood up and stretched. "I think I've talked to, or left messages for, all the people who'll get their noses out of joint that they weren't important enough to get a personal call from the family. God knows what sort of zoo the funeral is going to wind up being."

  He glanced at Pauli as he rolled a chair in. "Better go try to sleep. This week's going to have everyone hopping."

  Pauli grinned and headed out.

  "So you like those kids?" Vlad eyed the man. "What are you going to do when they get chipped?"

  "They already have Executive Plates. Natasha's is no-show. The twin cousins don't know, and I'd appreciate you're not telling them."

  Vlad blinked. "How did you manage that? Or . . . are they part of your Father's Trust?"

  "Unfortunately no. They are Dear Uncle's. Were. Now they're in the Family Trust, and I just need to take them as part of my fee and get them out of here."

  "Even Pauli, the stutterer?"

  "Especially Pauli. He's a tech genius." A nod toward the roomful of electronics. "Those are his builds, not mine. "I just provide the money and help him scrounge."

  Vlad looked back at the roomful. "I . . . see. So, first question. You knew how to arrange for a Council Observer?"

  "I called the Council Hotline. I looked it up for something years ago. Hard to forget six nines in a row. I don't have a perfect memory, but I do have a well trained good memory."

  "I see. And you deliberately stalled the death declaration past midnight? So you could get control of the Trust?"

  "Yes. For several reasons. One, to get my father's Trust out from under the threat of a Council Appointed manager. Even for a single hour, they can take twenty percent. There is no legal recourse, for me, if they chose to do that.

  "Two, to keep the Historical Trust out of Council control. Again, they could take twenty percent, by law, and the Trust flat cannot afford that. It runs pretty tight, as it is. And they could, legally, hand the property to the Government and kick the family out. Not that I'd have let them have the time, but it's better this way. I'm going to take a good hard look at it and see if I can organize it a bit better.

  "Three, to take a good hard look at Dear Uncle’s finances. Yes, because I hate his guts, and want to see if he's messed with my father's Trust. Four, to split the investments equally and fairly between the twins, and set up their own Trusts. Five, to get the idiots to understand the finances. And six, rescue a few people."

  "And . . . half of that out of the goodness of your heart?"

  Lord Axel snorted. "I haven't got any. I have outrage, irritation, and frustration. I'll do my damnedest to save what I can, then sit back and watch the idiots destroy themselves."

  "You think so? "

  "Yep. The Historical Trust pays all utilities, insurance, maintenance and repairs . . . even remodeling and furniture. Cars. All they have to pay for is food, and clothes, for themselves and their servants. And if they don't stop the 'who’s got the most servants, valuable artwork, and jewelry' competition, they're going to go broke. Because they don’t have their Father to go begging to for money any more."

  Vlad eyed him. "Just in rough, rounded figures, how much money are we talking about here? Lord Andre and Lord Nikoli weren’t able to get any financial information from their father’s computer."

  "I changed all of Dear Uncle’s passwords as soon as I got up here, so Nikoli and Andre didn’t do something stupid. And yes, I’ve amused myself testing Dear Uncle’s electronic security regularly, and have snagged a few passwords, including the master to his computer.

  “Vinogradov House is valued at a hundred million rubles. That's not what it would sell for, mind you. The history associated with it would probably double that . . . but it's tied up and cannot be sold. The thirty million in investments brings in three million a year. Barely covers all expenses, so the portfolio isn't growing. If they'd stop redecorating every other year, it'd help. All male descendants of Ivan the Founder who have passed their challenge and are aged fifty years and older have equal votes.

  "Well, Dear Uncle's Trust . . . I will find out about later today. That’s one file I’ve never managed to break into. And no, I do not try to hack the bank. Judging from the spending I see, it must produce an income of about a million a year. Only the free housing enables three families to live at high society levels. If I can get them to cut down immediately on some things, and they actually behave, they can keep it up. Anyway, the trust's balance must be in the vicinity of ten to fifteen million.

  "Now, my Father's Trust . . . Dear Uncle took twenty percent of the market value the day my Father died. And on the last business day of every year, the annual increase in value is calculated. He gets twenty percent of that and I get ten percent for my stipend.

  "If that is all being calculated honestly, judging from my annual stipend, that trust should be worth at least five million, and growing, because only thirty percent of profit is being taken out every year. I'll find out later today." He stopped for a wide yawn.

  "Then, of course, there's all the money outside of the various Trusts. Since I've got three separate accounts myself, I suspect Dear Uncle had a dozen, minimum. It may take some work to find them."

  Vlad blinked and thought that through. "So, Lord Vladimir has a net worth of less than twenty million? I . . . am actually a bit shocked at how low that is."

  "It's the House. When you can live rent free at the most prestigious place in town, you can really strut on what else you make." Lord Axel shrugged. "And then there's his Council salary, which is, was, hefty, and any outside property and investments."

  "Huh. So you're more-or-less on par with the twins, for total worth, but kept short on ready cash?"

  Lord Axel snickered. "I'm sure everyone's told you that I run off with loose women on a regular basis. Disappear for weeks at a time?"

  Vlad nodded. "Even your henchmen claim to be ignorant."

  "Well, don't tell anyone the embarrassing truth—but I actually work. I contract out for short jobs, for, gasp! Money!" He grinned. "Oh, finally shocked you didn't I? Just so you know, I'm actually competent to analyze these trusts, run down hidden accounts and otherwise save my idiot cousins' asses."

  "How . . . unexpected."

  "Yes. Probably just utterly flummoxed my minions, who are probably listening at the door. Unless Pauli's bugged the room. Again."

  Vlad stepped to the door and opened it.

  Natasha looked around innocently, feather duster in hand. Dimitri was walking toward him, dishes on a tray, behind him Barf had a tray with a teapot and cups.

  Pauli looked out of the door across the hallway. "N-nuthin' w-wrong w-with the w-wiring in there." He sent a hurt look past Vlad. "An' I w-wouldn't bug you. A-again. It w-was t-too emb-barrassing w-when you caught m-me so quick."

  "If I remember correctly, you were twelve years old. Credible attempt though." Lord Axel pointed at the other two boys. "If that's actual food an
d drink, put it in the first room, then you lot please go get some sleep. Which is what I'm going to do as soon as the Senior Detective is done with me."

  Lord Axel nudged him out of the way and led him down the hall to the first room.

  This one was more what he'd expected. A couple of big wardrobes and cabinets, one that looked like it might hide a bed. A table and chairs, a sofa angled toward the windows, a big wall screen. Nothing special, the table sturdy but obviously not new.

  Where an unwanted, poor, relative would be put.

  "No connecting door?"

  "No, they think the other rooms are empty, and poor me! I have to walk across the hall to use a 'public' bathroom." Another snort. "It's a useful image. They leave me alone."

  Barf balanced his tray and set the teapot and cups on the table. "The tea's cold by now."

  "Ah, well, I've taught you how to collect power and concentrate it. But for a pot of tea, you collect the power but barely concentrate it." He swooped his hands through the air and cupped the tea pot. And snatched his hands back. "Like that and watch that you don't burn your hands."

  He eyed them. "Now get."

  Dimitri set a plate of cheese and crackers on the table, took the trays and they all left. Natasha whisking her feather duster over a few things on the way out.

  "Good grief."

  "Those four are utterly wasted here. So, tea?"

  Vlad sighed. "Sure. Then I'll haul my totally befuddled self home to rethink everything."

  "Well, I have a vague plan to pick up all the paperwork—Notarized death certificates, a dozen copies. Council certified Executor papers, Manager of the two Trusts, and so forth. With luck, I can get to the central office of the Alliance Bank and Trust before the scandal sheets hit the streets with all the twins' bloody stupid . . ." Lord Axel shook his head. "Well, a man can dream."

  A knock on the door was Forty-one, a glimpse of Natasha skipping away.

  The Cyborg looked at the cup in his hand. "That girl said to bring this. The night team is here and will keep the dining room untouched."