Empire of the One (Wine of the Gods Book 14)

by Pam Uphoff

  Urfa crossed his arms and pondered. "That might explain their relationship to the ID forgeries. They had to buy IDs to escape their legal custodians. They'd be consumers, not sources."

  "Unless they're paying for theirs by helping the supplier. I wonder if that shop is laundering money?" Izzo fought to not hunt down a toothpick to chew on.

  "That's two very different types of mutation. It would be unlikely to find them in a single family." The geneticist sniffed. "It’s been awhile since we’ve had any illegal genetic engineering labs leaking mutagens, but I suppose it might be worth checking. If they were attempting to design something that targeted the power genes and had the targeting right, but the effect was irregular and unreliable, you might get this sort of results. Perhaps varying amounts of damage to different parts of the mother's ovaries."

  Izzo made a note of that. Yikes! "Have we got enough to search their bank records?"

  His three-layers-up boss, Interior Director Orku scratched his cheek. "Don't. We don't want to spook them. Let's continue tracing their contacts, see who they see regularly, where they go. We need to be very subtle. And we'll need to keep track of where Endi Dewulfe goes, and what contacts he has. He could easily be the one transporting the blanks, traveling to and from horse shows."

  Urfa nodded. "Yes, we'll definitely need to find out if the show circuit is being used for smuggling. I'll let you decide how far you need to let him go, to find the manufacturer of the blanks. Keep me up to date on that."

  Izzo made a note. "Right, do you want the raw data or analysis?"

  "Both, please. As for the shop—you're a bit short on female investigators. I'll have one of my agents get friendly. Izzo, I'll send her to you."

  Izzo nodded cautiously. Which "her" would they send?

  ***

  The canapé girl walked into his office the next morning.

  Izzo got his mouth shut, and tried for business-like. "Xiat. A pleasure to meet you. Again. The vase I bought is a real eye catcher. Let me show it too you before we head for the store, so they can tell you really did see it."

  She crossed her arms and looked down her nose. In her high heels she was a couple of inches taller than he was. "Excuse me? Do you actually think it's that easy?" The voice was icy and contemptuous. "Or are you from some backwater utopia?"

  "What?" He blinked to removed the dazzle of her irritated glow. "Oh, that. Well, perhaps you should stand in the hall, and I'll fetch it out for you. And yes, I was born and raised on Homestead, and it's quite nice, but not utopian."

  She eyed him, and nodded. "You really need to work on those colonial assumptions. Even outside a big city, a woman never walks into a man's residence."

  Izzo sighed. "My parents were the only Oners around, for most of my life. There were a few Halfers in some of my schools – we moved around a lot. So I did see a few of those problems, got lectured all about the genetic basis. But it wasn't . . . pervasive. More of a tall tale, no one really believed the wrong mix of three genes could possibly create a rapist, let alone excuse his actions. Well. Sorry for the misunderstanding. That was the same suggestion I would have given a male colleague." His apartment tower was just five blocks away from the Internal Relations Tower. They walked.

  "So, you think this group is composed of abnormals?" Her voice was on the chilly side of professional, but she apparently wasn't going to speak further about his faux pas.

  "I think they may be a group alienated from our society. Apart from the fellow with the putative head injuries, and I was only around him for perhaps fifteen minutes, they seem individually bright and normal. And that fellow . . . well head injuries can be strange in what they do and don't affect. In retrospect his vocabulary was large, his grammar good, pronunciation slurred. So I could be completely wrong."

  "Interesting." She didn't shy away from getting in the elevator with him, but at his door she stepped back and leaned pointedly on the hallway wall.

  He left the door open and stepped to the side so she'd see the effect of the vase in the sunlight.

  "One! It looks like a kaleidoscope." She sounded like someone had knocked the wind out of her, and she stalked past him. She studied the vase, stood back and looked at the room. "It doesn't look like you removed anything, since you bought this."

  He stood pacifically well back as she took in the austere furnishings, the lack of decor other than the glowing vase.

  "I moved recently, with very little furniture."

  "Umm, yes, three months ago now." She turned the vase a bit and looked at the new patterns.

  I've been researched! "I sold a lot when I went back to University to study Psychology, and haven't seen anything I liked as well to replace them since."

  "In ten years in Precog and Divination? Although I can see where coming home from there to something bland might be welcome."

  "I have a very nice water color in my bedroom, but if I offered to show it to you, you'd give me another one of those liquid nitrogen looks . . . yes, just like that." Izzo stepped back out into the hallway.

  Xiat snorted and rejoined him in the hall and he locked up. Yes! A faint sign of a sense of humor!

  "And I see why you didn't just describe it."

  "Yeah, trying to convey that exuberant explosion of color is difficult."

  She shook her head. "You should write for women's magazines."

  "Hmm. I'll keep that in mind for my next career. Although it might be a short one. How long could I deal with the combination of drooling over women's legs when they wear high heels but writing about the insanity of ruining one's feet wearing ridiculous things like that?" Izzo kept his eyes up and off of her very, very nice legs, and hoped his expression was innocent.

  She narrowed her eyes. "Oh, I suspect you're tough enough to survive a good long while." Humor under the chill.

  He hopped the westbound tram. "So, unwashed Colonial that I am, I was under the impression that princesses were guards, not investigators."

  "It gets old. I've been taking night classes in law enforcement, and Director Urfa noticed."

  Izzo was nearly breathless in her presence, even with her glow tamped down to a lower than normal public presence. He wasn't sure he'd survive if she opened up. "Picturing you as a beat cop is mind boggling. I can see enthralled gangers following wistfully at your heels begging to be arrested."

  Liquid nitrogen. The glow damped even further. "I can do the job."

  He wondered a bit about both the determination and the automatic defensiveness. "Yes. I wasn't doubting that side of the equation. You seem to have the determination. But your effect on the street level toughs could be amusing for an observer." The tram slowed for the main train terminus and he dropped off. "I don't know you, or your background, or how much experience in the grimier parts of a city you have. Is there a hole in your background that needs filling?"

  "How many holes did you have?" Maybe liquid helium.

  "Oy starteed weeth a acceent from Homesteed's most backward arees. And oy tendency to gawp at tall buildeens. Steel workeen on the manneers." He fished a toothpick out of his pocket and started chewing on it. He grinned at her expression then scanned the boards for a northbound train that would stop in Le Havre.

  "I've been a bit overprotected, most of my life. Black Point has its share of perverts but as long as you stay out of their houses, they don't dare do anything." Her voice was back to merely cold.

  "You lived in the Enclave?"

  "Until I went to University, International Studies. Then I was recruited by the Princess School. But I flunked their final psychology tests. Wound up a bodyguard for any women associated with the Presidency. Then low level information gathering. Mostly chatting up people at parties, playing servant and eavesdropping, traveling to diplomatic posts and so forth. Writing it all out and analyzing it . . . it's getting a bit stale. So I decided to start over, and yes, I do have a hole in my experience. I've never associated with the dregs." She made it sound like she included him in the dregs.

&
nbsp; This was definitely going to take some work.

  "If you can get over that first reaction, you'll find them pretty much the same as at the top. Just, more casual and less ashamed of the anti-social things they do, the illegal things they do. Often because society makes it nearly impossible to not. But they're still people."

  "Completely without magic." She followed him through corridors to the right platform.

  He eyed her. Had she shivered? "I see you've fallen for the One's propaganda. 'Magic is everything good. Anyone without magic is bad.' They are wrong. I grew up in the backwoods. I was the only Oner in most of the schools I attended. Occasionally there'd be a Halfer or two. The other kids were good, bad, smart, stupid, lazy, ambitious . . . same as all the Oner college students I met a few years later in Alcairo. Magic is not the determinant. That's something you'll need to really learn, deep down, to effectively work with people, both with and without magic." He had to raise his voice a bit as the train pulled in. It was packed. He worked his way halfway up the aisle and grabbed a strap. She was right behind him, her expression a bit tense as she reached for a strap herself.

  Did she always take official cars? With drivers? Well, she probably wasn't going to appreciate him throwing her into the deep end, but her future colleagues might.

  With other listeners so close, he changed to a neutral subject. "Black Point, that's, umm, North America?"

  She met his eyes, looking surprised. "One, you are a Colonial. Yes, the enclave is on the west coast, and our clan businesses tend to cluster on the coast and the interior valleys. Gold mining, and agriculture. Wine, rice, tomatoes and cotton for the most part. My parents died years ago; now I just have an aunt who lives there, and an uncle in Exterior Relations. How about you? Going home is a bit difficult, I imagine."

  "Longer travel times, about equal on each side of the Gate. But I've kept up my residency there, so I am at least spared the tourist paperwork." He looked out the windows at the blur of the endless city. "Every time it's a culture shock, to get back to the pace and scenery I grew up with. The last two times I was there, Dad was threatening to retire. Mom was starting to look hopeful instead of cynical. They may actually come back some day, and that's a really strange thought." He felt the train slow and started looking for a path out. Most of these people were headed for Britain. Xiat looked a little panicked. He squeezed past her and squirmed for the doors with her pressed against his back. Pity it didn't take longer.

  Out on the street, she took a relieved breath, and choked a bit.

  "Be glad this is a mile from the docks district. The fishermen's piers reek."

  "Worse than this?" She gulped a bit. "You'd think, being from the coast I'd have no trouble with sea smells."

  "I think it's the combination of dead fish with the city smog. And sewers that could do with some maintenance. It's not the standard beach scent on top of a clean sea breeze." He led off down the street, turning toward the poorest part of town.

  She strode tensely at his side, not relaxing a bit. They got plenty of looks, and whistles aimed at Xiat.

  She actually smiled a bit at that. "Just like home, the perverts amassing. Somehow I thought that would be missing."

  "Hate to say it, but male sex drive and the aggression associated with it is a natural phenomenon. Not universal, thank the One, but all too common. These guys are actually safer than most Oner perverts both because they lack those three pairs of messed up impulse control genes, and they have no possibility of judicial leniency. Mind you, that doesn't stop them from being rapists. Just, they have a few extra social controls." He didn't mind how close she walked to him at all.

  Her eyes widened again at the scantily clad redheaded woman at the first corner.

  "She can't be a Oner, I can't feel her . . ."

  "Dyed her hair."

  "Oh. Of course."

  He could see her faint flush. It did wonders for his Colonial ego.

  "And anyhow, the nuclear war didn't drive the Europeans completely extinct. Their type still pops up unexpectedly now and then, when the right parents get together."

  "I know. Lots of them from South America. I'm just used to the descendants of the Prophets being the fairest people in any given group." She eyed, but said nothing about the other whores on the street, the drunks and druggies. He turned down the street to the shop. Two big dogs were sprawled on the sidewalk in the shade. Xiat skittered around to his far side and gawped. "I don't recognize the breed. Breeds."

  "Mixed. The red one looks a bit like boxer and german shepherd. The black one looks almost like a purebred shepherd, except for the flopped ears. Part lab, maybe. Or something bigger."

  "I thought there were penalties for uncontrolled animal breeding? They don't have collars, or anything."

  The big dogs eyed them, but didn't bother getting up to investigate further.

  "Well, people get lax about the rules when the options are so lucrative."

  "Spaying and neutering only cost a few hundred."

  "Ah, but I'll bet these two's unregistered puppies sell for that much each. Where a registered, licensed, and graded puppy can run thousands."

  "But . . . " She snapped her mouth closed as she walked into the shop. A girl with pale blonde hair was dusting. She was wearing three shades of purple, and her eyes looked lavender.

  Izzo nodded politely. "There are the wine glasses I told you about." He pointed at the shelf and walked around to where he could see through the open door to the back. A large workspace with rough tables, two huge electric kilns, stairs up to the second floor.

  Xiat walked over and examined the wine glasses. She caught the eye of the purple girl. "I've been admiring his new vase, and made him bring me here." She walked over to another table and stood about a foot away from the girl. "I don't see any others that big. Or colorful."

  The girl giggled. "Oh, is he the one that bought that vase? How does it look away from the clutter?"

  "Incredible. Of course some bachelor whose name I wouldn't dream of mentioning might have decorated in beige, ecru and off white. The vase in front of a sunny window changed everything."

  On stage, in public, Xiat was all smiles and a faint glow. So the chill is to discourage men like me. Drat.

  The purple girl grinned. "I'll bet. What colors do you have for accents? We have them all."

  They did, indeed. Xiat prowled, looking fascinated.

  The young brunette girl trotted in the front door, carrying a load of boxes. She smiled and nodded, not stopping on her way through. Izzo watched her climb the stairs. I wonder if they all live up there? It's not zoned for it . . .

  She came back down and felt the two kilns. She opened one of them and started pulling ceramics out.

  Izzo eased through the door. "You've got quite a set up back here." He eyed the irregularly edged squarish plates. "And unusual products."

  "It's, begging your pardon, these silly High Oners. They want one-of-a-kind art dishes." She reached down for the second tier, and withdrew quickly. "Ouch. Still hot down there." Armed with oven mitts she removed a heavy ceramic platform and started pulling out more dishes. He noticed that she was placing them in specific spots on the big table. The odd black designs on the creamy plates matched up slowly until the mosaic of pieces came together in a picture.

  "Oak Tree Clan. That's very clever."

  "I hope Lady Zoid appreciates it. And the client. Some people aren't apt at describing what they have imagined."

  "How in the One did you meet the Lady?" The old woman who, de facto, ruled most of eastern Europe?

  The girl grinned. "Didn't. I have a family connection with girlfriends in high places. Add in the grid. It's a deadly combination. This will be a gift to Lady Zoid from her granddaughter. One of her granddaughters." She stood back and eyed the mosaic. Nodded in satisfaction.

  Izzo felt the pull of giving a grand gift. My great Aunt twice removed, the grand dame of Alcairo. "Err, if I showed you a picture . . . how much would you charge for something lik
e this?" He pulled out his minicomp and sorted through pictures. Found a good one of the Alcairo seal; Pyramids, the Sphinx, the old Crescent and Star of Islam.

  She grabbed paper and a marker and sketched out a slightly different arrangement. "I don't want to be accused of counterfeiting official seals, or copyright infringement and so forth. May I recommend a mix of cream, tan and gold for the background, several shades of red, and perhaps a touch of blue at the top? And how about a triangular shape to at least some of the dishes? This could be quite, umm, eccentric and definitely unique."

  In the front of the shop, the black haired woman was helping the pale one wrap up Xiat's purchases. Excellent, more genetic samples.

  And at that he barely outspent Xiat. He helped carry her packages, which survived the train ride. Kidded her about going soft when she grabbed a taxi. She drafted him to help carry her boxes. Her apartment was three tiers of posh up from his. He admired the hardwood floor, the rich area rugs and comfortable looking furniture. The far wall was solid glass, giving the impression that the princess lived in the sky.

  She fiddled with some electronics, ran a wand over all the packages.

  "Professional paranoia?"

  "Yep. I even check my groceries. In fact I especially check my groceries. I'm too predictable in my shopping."

  "Doubt you were predictable today. So, you survived your first trip to the underworld. What did you think of the denizens?"

  "They were quite shockingly just like people. And those three women at the shop . . . someone needs to tell Heil that all the purple makes her look like a corpse. I got a solid reading on her. She has children, which surprises me. She's very young, twenty perhaps, and very high in power. If she's a Halfer, I’m Multitude. No. She's a Oner. Double power genes. She couldn't be that powerful without. The brown haired one, Kail, she's the one with the aberrant genes, isn't she? I wasn't close enough to get much. She's got a strong mental shield. The black haired woman, I couldn't get a deeper reading, she was, oh, call it chronically fierce. She felt a bit insecure, hungry for more. Power? Knowledge? Not sure. She's either a Halfer with abilities or a Oner. And again, I’ll bet on the latter."