by Pam Uphoff
"Because I needed to fuel up. And it isn't so much the taste as the texture. Steak should not feel like liverwurst."
"What's the worst thing you can do to liver?"
"You'll find out, the next time you come to Embassy. I'll fix you up with a proper kitchen tomorrow."
Her fingers crooked, bringing nails in contact with his abs. And sliding lower.
I think I'm happier not knowing what Dancers are taught about the fastest way to incapacitate a man.
"But not in pink." He grabbed her hands before they got dangerously low. "Do you want stark, sterile, white or are you prepared to get wild?"
Silence. He released her hands and turned. She was trying to glare. And fast losing to laughter.
"If nothing else, you need a kitchen so I can cook when I visit you. And what about resale value?"
"Red. Bright red countertop and white cabinets. Multi tan floor. Something about like the upstairs bathroom floor would do nicely. Same for all the rest of the floors. I like colorful area rugs, so the floor has to be rather neutral." She put a hand on his chest and pushed him back against the bed. "And you know damn well and good that I can cook."
"Right. We'll get some oak tomorrow for the cabinets. And do the kitchen first, so you have time to change your mind before I go back to Embassy."
"You are impossible. I know perfectly well you made that bathroom pink just to get a rise out of me. Now stop talking about the house, damn it."
He pulled her with him as he fell back on the bed. Rolled over with her, and kissed her very thoroughly. :: Stop looking so worried. Agni's fine. That bubble is nicely hidden in plain sight. In the Prime Councilor's office. ::
She choked faintly.
He sent her the picture. The rod propping up the leaning plant in the Prime Councilor's office . . .
She burst out laughing. "You Bad Boy! Thank the One you're an enemy. Otherwise I'd do something really stupid, like falling in love with you."
"You're much too smart to do something like that." :: I'll fetch him for you, whenever you want him. :: He kissed her ear and started working his way south.
:: Bet it'll take a month to work through the morass and see who's behind this. Then we have to figure out what their goal is. And whether to sink it, or sail with it. ::
:: Poor Agni. He's going to be so pissed . . . I hope you have a really embarrassing place to dump him. ::
:: Festival in Rio next week. Stun him, get some alcohol into him, leave him on the beach . . . :: Her mental voice sounded a bit gleeful, with a halo vision of a wild street party gone city-wide. A memory flash of a beach, so vivid and real in her mind he could have used it for a location.
:: In a business suit? ::
:: The local thieves will strip him, if the whores don't notice him first. Not that there's a lot of difference between them. ::
:: I like this idea. Do I get to help? ::
:: I doubt this will all unravel soon enough for Mardi Gras to still be going on, but there's bound to be some other opportunity for massive embarrassment around somewhere. ::
Her hands were making it hard to think. He gave up trying and got down to pleasing the lady.
And woke at midnight to see her sitting in a chair, staring into the night, curtains open.
"If the police have a cam on us they're getting an eyeful."
"I like looking at the city lights."
He leaned on the window sill to look at the huge spray of light, horizon to horizon. "I'm a country boy. I'd rather see the stars."
"I'm being used. I don't like that." She shifted a bit to look at him as he folded up to sit cross-legged at her feet. "I'm a dismal failure at criminal investigation. Who, what, where, when, why, how. I'm coming up blank."
He picked up one of her feet and massaged it. "We all use people and get used. It's all a matter of whether the user respects our honor, whether they ask or demand. Or treat you like a piece of furniture that's useful and handy. But investigation . . . yeah, the cop was pretty reticent. What: Kill Agni. When: I'll bet it was close enough to when I passed through Gate City as makes no difference. How . . . " He broke off as she shook her head.
"Where and when are still up for grabs. Two days ago—three now—Agni was here in Paris. Had he gone back to Gate City? I . . . don't actually know where he's living right now. I doubt Ujmw has tossed him out of the Director's place—it's this huge monstrosity, has to be seen to be believed—but they really don't get along. I suspect Agni's moved out."
"And if he's ambitious, he's here in Paris. Was here. I assumed the cop was from Gate City and grabbed a local cop—Izzo—to give him jurisdiction."
Rael shook her head. "Ohse's posted here in Paris. He's a Senior Investigator these days. He at least knows Izzo, and I think they're friends. Speaking of using people. And Izzo used Xiat's invitation to come see my new house to just walk in behind her."
Xen shrugged. "So he was probably killed here. They could have taken an extra half hour to get a search warrant. Which is a bit odd. Why did they suspect you? Leave any bloody fingerprints behind during your murder spree, Spikey?"
"He asked what I was wearing under the overalls. They must have witnesses. Or pictures."
"And it was so recent he thought you might be wearing what they saw the killer wearing? Huh. That sounds like a witness piped right up with 'It was that famous presidential guard!' doesn't it? And they crashed your place . . . what, by thirteen hundred? Give or take a few minutes. Huh. So someone found a body, or saw a murder. Called the police, ambulance, whatever. What's the sequence, after that?" He switched to her other foot.
"The first responder would call for a Senior Investigator to come to the crime scene. Then they drove from—possibly somewhere downtown. Hour minimum, between the murder and them getting here."
"More like three or four, I'll bet."
"Less. They thought I might still be wearing the same clothes. I really hope it wasn't someone in an orange jumpsuit."
"Hmm, that argues for a non-messy death. Or . . . I dunno. Let's see . . . we've got 'when' narrowed down and we can guess roughly 'where.' 'What'—his death, but not 'how.' Other than by a redhead. Or do you think I'm . . . no, they headed straight for you. The 'who' was someone who could do a good impersonation of Presidential Guard Rael Withione."
"That leaves us with 'why.' Was it personal? One knows that man was an obnoxious jerk. If his wife had killed him, I'd have been totally sympathetic." She smirked a bit. "Or one of his six ex-wives."
"So he did the rotating Game Wives nonsense? Or is he just so obnoxious no woman can stand him for long?"
Rael pulled her foot out of his hands long enough to kick his shoulder. Lightly. "Yes. The current one has lasted four years . . . I think he's got twelve children total. Reminds me of someone . . . "
"And a Princess?"
"A very old and canny one. They called her the Wicked Witch of the West in Gate City. Even the people on Agni's good side are afraid of her."
"Heh. Yeah, we've got that archetype too. So . . . his current wife would be more likely to just divorce him for a good settlement than kill him? Was it just a coincidence that I was here at the same time? Could be they're pissed at me personally, want to discredit the whole idea of Embassy, or both. Or, how about disgruntled subordinates? Hard to see why they'd kill him now that he's retired. Especially if he was killed here. Very inconvenient for the External Relations staff working in Gate City. Not as inconvenient as it used to be. Should never have started by bribing you lot with a corridor."
"You weren't bribing us, you were showing off. And External has a moderately sized office here in Paris. But Agni spent less time politicking here than most previous directors. I suspect it was either someone in the War Party who wants the nomination for President, or the Isolationists, to remove competition in the general election."
"And if they tried to make it look like you killed him, then they were after Urfa or Orde."
"Both. As far as public opinion is concern
ed, if Urfa did it, Orde must have ordered it. If Orde wanted the man dead, he'd have done it through Urfa . . . Although personally, I'd find out if Qayg had an alibi." Rael pulled her foot out of his hands and sat up straighter. "So we need to consider which politicians are feeling especially ambitious."
"A rival in the modernists? The ambitious types in the other parties? The One?"
"There's no one else in the Modernists who is prominent enough to have a hope in the next election. Good grief, less than a year since Orde was reelected, and the preliminaries for the next one are starting to fire up, already. As best we can tell, the War party really did think the Old Orde could come back and oust the new. And the Isolationists assumed the old one was the opponent they had to worry about. I suspect they've both been shocked out of that assumption and now they're taking nothing for granted and getting organized early. Hence the speculation about why Agni retired." She ran her hands through her hair and grimaced. Possibly due to her short hair sticking out in all directions, more likely dislike of her conclusions.
Because no matter the silly talk under the assumption we are being overheard, our conclusions are sound.
"So someone is out to take down the president."
Rael nodded. Even in the dim night he could see tension lines around her eyes. "Yeah. So who and why, and most especially, how far are they prepared to go?"
He leaned his head against her knee. And how many of their tools are they willing to sacrifice, to stay anonymous? Especially a disobedient tool . . .
Chapter Four
18 Shawwal 1401 yp
In the morning, Agni's disappearance was the lead story on every news media in every medium.
At least they didn't have any details.
Until an enterprising news company offered rewards for any pictures. Two buses and four cars with dash cams had caught bits and pieces of the whole. Street scenes, dreary with drizzle, sidewalks full of hustling people under umbrellas, half or more of them black. One umbrella slowing down, waiting. Then striding forward to enter the hotel's outer door just as Agni approached the inner door.
They had intel. They knew when Agni was going to be in the best place to snatch him. An agent observing him? Electronic surveillance? With Xen involved, I can't even rule out magical means. Hard for us doesn't mean it's not easy for him.
Izzo watched all the various vids, again, and shrugged. The big screen on the wall of the conference room had drawn a crowd of analysts.
"Izzo, you say you saw the hotel security vids?" Efge, Director of Internal Relations was drumming his fingers, clearly bothered.
He barely skinned out of blame for the attempted assassination five years ago. If he doesn't have a phobia about deadly conspiracies, he's more foolish than I'd thought.
"Yes, they've got all the recordings upstairs in CI. Much better shots of the redhead. It was either Rael with just enough disguise for deniability, but basically advertising that it was her, or someone the right size and shape with enough disguise for suggestibility. It clearly wasn't a long term deep disguise, else they'd have used plastic surgery to get the ears right and the nose profile exact." He blew out his breath. "So do we have any indications of animus toward the President?"
Efge swallowed.
"Above and beyond the usual, of course."
Efge smiled, looking sick. "Dig for them. Go talk to them. Give them reason to rethink any further actions. I'll go see if Criminal Investigations has anything new. Come along, Izzo."
Because with Agni out of the way . . . you might actually think about running for president. Three years as Director is a bit thin, but . . .
Upstairs they had silhouetted profiles and they were comparing details, the hairline behind the ears, the wrinkles of the forehead . . .
"Damn it. It's so close, but just not quite right." Ohse turned away in frustration. "We picked up an interesting conversation between our two suspects last night. They pretty much sussed out the whole thing logically and then focused on this as a threat to President Orde. Of course, by now they know even more." He tapped controls and they listened.
Izzo nodded. "We gave away more than we got, didn't we?"
Efge snorted. "No pictures?"
"No clothes." Ohse shrugged. "So . . . I guess I'm going to spend the day digging into Agni's private life and finances."
Izzo resisted the call of the toothpick. Rael's sense of humor . . . If they were naked where police surveillance could see, I'd give it a fifty percent chance that conversation was staged for watchers. Or at least that they were very careful to not give any indication that they knew more than they ought. What really disturbs me is the possibility of the One being actively involved. I know who to ask about that, but will I believe the answer?
***
Princess Qayg was the president's watchdog. As far as Izzo could tell, their relationship had never been sexual. But that Qayg was one of Orde's political advisers had always been obvious. As was their friendship. And her protectiveness was so obvious that her position as a check on the president's behavior had been questioned more than once.
She eyed Izzo like she was planning his dissection.
"I am concerned that the One may be active in this matter." Which was about as neutral as Izzo could make it.
Qayg nodded. "Until the philosophy questions are answered, the possibility of major interference from the One is minimal. However the restrictions on actions by factions of the One are looser. You need not worry about the One turning on Orde. I would feel that. I was, for several years, of the One. Part of that hive mind. But I could not let go of the last of myself, and so I was assigned out. But because of that, I have a stronger connection to the One than most Princesses. But the factions . . . The Philosopher is fiercely expansionist, the mindset of the Warriors who formed the One, who united the Empire, and are determined to add all the worlds we find across the dimensions. But Endi Dewulfe has shaken that fierceness for the first time since the War of Unification. We have now an Alternate Philosopher who is a rampant Isolationist. And another who is . . . not less fierce, but more cautious. Who is prepared to go around obstacles rather than fight them to the death. Who would wall off some dangers, while still fighting to overcome others.
"If there is any involvement of the One, I think you should look at the Isolationists." She eyed him. "And Orde will be very well protected. Even from Rael. Just in case."
"Thank you." Izzo felt a bit stunned. Rael would not . . . I can barely see her killing Agni. Orde? No. Really.
I hope to all bloody hell the One does not control its Dancers so powerfully that she could not stop herself.
***
Izzo eyed the disorganized heap of firewood. "Two cords, the way my dad measured firewood. What the One are you going to do with it?"
Rael snickered. Added another piece to her armload. "Grab a couple of chunks and come see. We stopped by a store this morning to look at kitchen appliances, and I made the mistake of sighing over the hardwood floor display. You think the stone work yesterday was odd? Yow!"
Izzo grabbed two large wedges of oak and followed her inside.
Twice as many observers surrounded the Comet Fall wizard today. One man was belly down on the floor with an odd camera focused on the edge of a board . . . as it thinned and lengthened. Flattened itself to the floor.
Xen picked up a half meter chunk of oak branch. The bark peeled off and floated out an open window at the back of the room. He reached and laid the clean wood on the floor ahead of himself to the right. The wood stretched like putty, lengthening, flattening, creeping along the floor as it grew. It touched the board at the far end, and stopped. A ripple ran the length of the wood, squeezing it down, lengthening it. The grain was clear, rippling the whole length of what was now a board. The crawling man shifted and filmed it up close as it extruded itself past Xen and then squared off its end. Izzo added his wood to Rael's stack and walked around to look at the floor. Mirror flat and smooth. Maybe ten percent of the room was done.
>
Rael shook her head. "I can barely even feel what he's doing. I can almost do the sand thing. I think with work, I'll be able to. This? One!"
Izzo nodded seriously. "It's like magic."
Rael snorted. "Bad Analyst. I'm telling Xiat. The, umm, vids in the grid news sites are certainly interesting. Guess I figured out why you landed on my doorstep so early in the investigation."
"Indeed." Izzo hesitated and then jumped straight in. "Just . . . academically speaking . . . could a Princess, say, a Dancer, be compelled to an action? I spoke to Qayg, we're worried about Orde."
She eyed him, cocked her head in thought. "Princesses, trained by the Princess School, have a weak connection to the One, but cannot easily be compelled. Dancers have a stronger connection, but we are specifically trained to resist compulsions. And the way we train is by fighting compulsions from the One. I'm . . . I would not be easy for the One to compel." Her eyes narrowed. "If this was done by a Dancer, it was probably done with the Dancer's agreement with the order. And it was very slick. Now, possession of a Bag of the Prophets . . . that seems like a strong indication that the One . . . " She broke off and walked over the Xen. "Hey, you. Master of the Multiverse. Surface for a second."
The current board oozed out to its end and squared off.
Xen stretched. "What's up?"
"There's this thing we've got. Called a bag or bubble of the Prophets. We think it's extra-dimensional. It's invisible apart from the handles. You can fit huge amounts of stuff into them, and when closed the time inside slows way down. Do you lot have things like that?"
"Oh sure. Obviously what happened to Agni. Easiest way to tote stuff around. Not that I need handles. We put handles on the ones we catch for other people."
"So . . . all of your magic types can make them?"
"Umm, no, it's kind of a specialized ability." He smirked. "How do you think I got rid of all that nasty old carpet?"