“Those are the downsiders?” Jamie whispered.
Ankari gave her a grim nod, then walked to the desk.
“I’m beginning to see why they need help,” she muttered to herself, “and why one of them might throw away his or her life for a chance for… something better.”
She had been speaking to herself, thinking out loud, and hadn’t expected an answer, but Sergei said, “It’s likely the majority of their crops go to GalCon.”
“That’s how it was on my farm, too, but we still had enough to eat.” Not enough to ever amass any wealth, but that was the plight of farmers all over the system; at least her family owned the land and had the freedom to work it as they saw fit, so long as they made their annual quotas.
“My guess is that they’re being double-taxed.” Sergei spread a hand toward the ceiling—encompassing the entire floating city? “There’s not much in the way of industry or food production up here. The wealth these people enjoy must come from somewhere.”
“That’s despicable.” Jamie was probably being naive—she knew she was—and showing her sheltered youth, but she couldn’t keep from feeling indignation on these people’s behalf.
Sergei lifted a shoulder.
“You don’t think so?” she asked, a little disappointed. She wasn’t sure why. Someone who killed people for a living probably didn’t care much about the plight of humanity in general.
“Oh, it is,” he said, “but I’ve seen… much worse. Where I was born…” He considered her face for a moment, then shook his head and said, “Never mind. Your friend is waving to you.”
Ankari was gesturing for them to join her, but that didn’t make Jamie forget Sergei’s words, the hint that he had grown up in unpleasant circumstances. Maybe his youth, whatever it had been like, accounted for why he had picked such a dubious career in the Fleet.
He paused before following her, frowning at something down the hall. Jamie looked but only glimpsed someone darting into a cross hallway.
“Trouble?” she asked.
“Maybe. If there is, I’ll take care of it.” Sergei pointed toward Ankari. She and the receptionist were heading through a door behind the desk.
Jamie hurried to catch up, though she couldn’t help but look at the people she passed, the forlorn faces watching her. There was a gaunt boy of eleven or twelve in the last chair, and she wished she had a candy bar or some other treat she could have given him. She caught Sergei giving the boy a long look, too, and wondered if he was as jaded and indifferent as his shrug had made him seem.
Jamie caught up to Ankari as she turned into an office down the corridor behind the waiting room. There might have been a door once, but it had been removed—or the hinges had rusted off.
An older woman in white and pastel green sat at a desk inside, no less than three holographic displays hovering in the air, showing accounts and medical records. She flicked a couple of them off and waved for Ankari to sit down. Jamie sat in a chair farther back from the desk.
After Sergei took a look around the office and skewered the doctor with a soul-piercing expression, he stepped into the hallway and leaned against the wall next to the doorjamb. From her seat in the back, Jamie could see his arm. She wondered if she should wait out there, too, since she had nothing to add to the meeting. Maybe she could talk to Sergei and ask him about the childhood he had hinted at. No, she shouldn’t bother him. He was working. She didn’t know why she was interested in his past. Some morbid curiosity about what might prompt a man to become an assassin?
“I appreciate you coming,” the doctor said. “The downsiders who are sent up here tend to be experts on equipment or have otherwise critical positions in the system, so the government prefers to keep them alive rather than finding and training replacements.”
“How magnanimous,” Ankari said. “What happens to the people who aren’t experts on anything except harvesting crops?”
The doctor spread her hands, a helpless expression on her face. “Trust me, I would prefer to help everyone and improve the conditions down there if it were possible, but we’re given an extremely stringent budget. We put everything toward helping patients.” She glanced toward the missing door. “And I do mean everything.”
Jamie followed the doctor’s gaze, again noting the rusty hinges. She also noted that Sergei’s arm wasn’t in sight anymore. Weird, he wouldn’t have left, would he? Not when he was supposed to be watching them.
She leaned closer to the doorway. He had probably shifted a few inches to the side. But even when she left her chair, she couldn’t see him. She lifted a hand toward Ankari and mouthed, “Be right back,” and stepped outside. Sergei wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Surely he hadn’t wandered off to the cafeteria or something, not two minutes into the meeting. If Ankari had been in there for hours, it might be understandable, but deserting so early? She barely knew him, but didn’t think that seemed like him. Then she remembered the person who had darted into a doorway and Sergei’s admission that there might be trouble. Had that person made another appearance?
Jamie glanced toward the office, wondering if either woman would care if she wandered off. They were engrossed in a conversation—that was Ankari’s negotiating face—so they probably wouldn’t notice. If there was trouble, Jamie should probably let Sergei handle it, but when there was a pause in the discussion in the office, she heard voices in the distance. They weren’t coming from the waiting room, but from somewhere beyond an intersection that lay in the other direction.
She spotted a lavatory sign near the cross hall and decided she might have to use the facilities. That would at least be an excuse for her to wander in that direction.
Not trying to silence the clomp of her work boots, she headed for the door. She doubted she could sneak so quietly that Sergei—or some bounty hunter who had Sergei-like training—wouldn’t hear her.
The voices became clearer as she walked down the hallway. There were two men speaking, and one sounded like Sergei. They stopped before she could make out what they were talking about. They had doubtlessly heard her. She pushed open the bathroom door, glad it did have a door, and it squeaked on rusty hinges. She took a step, but didn’t go in. She let the door fall shut. It squeaked again. She froze, wondering if the silly ruse would work to fool an assassin. Would the men start talking again, or would they know she was there? Judging by what she had heard, they were too far down the side corridor to see her. There was a little noise coming from other offices and hospital rooms along the hallway, so it wasn’t so quiet that they could hear her breathing. She hoped. For all she knew, Sergei had cyborg enhancements.
“Listen, Zharkov,” the speaker she didn’t recognize started up, “I see that you’re trying to get in with Mandrake Company, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. I don’t want to compete with you in this. I know your reputation. But I’ve been doing a ton of research. I might know a few things you don’t. Like I just learned that Mandrake went down to the planet—not one of the cities, but to the actual planet. Did you know? He’ll be out in the open down there. An easier target than in the city, maybe. What say we work the job together and split the bounty, fifty-fifty?”
Jamie, listening in horror as the realization dawned as to what the man was talking about, stood absolutely still, hardly daring to breathe. After this thug—whoever he was—had admitted his plans, he wouldn’t risk letting a spy go, if he caught one, would he? She gulped. Maybe she should have gone into the lavatory, after all. But she couldn’t move now. She had to hear Sergei’s response. If he had one. Silent seconds ticked past.
“I work alone,” Sergei finally said, his voice even icier than it had been when he had spoken to Striker. “Mandrake’s mine. If you go after him, I’ll kill you. The only reason I’m not killing you right now is that I want you to tell anyone else in the guild you see. They cross me in this, and they’re dead.”
Jamie stopped breathing altogether. Mandrake’s mine. What could that mean except that Sergei planned to kil
l the captain himself?
Without warning, Sergei walked around the corner. He stopped when he spotted her. Jamie couldn’t tell from his expression if he was surprised to see her or not, but that might have been because she was too busy lunging into the lavatory to study it for long.
She rushed into one of the stalls, locked the door, put her back to it, and… immediately felt stupid. What? Did she think that the woman-in-a-dress symbol would keep an assassin from coming in to get her?
Groaning, she let her head clunk back against the door. What now?
4
After Sergei checked to make sure Ankari was fine and still in her meeting, he returned to the lavatory door, put his back to the wall, lifted his knuckle to his mouth, and waited. He doubted Jamie would stay in there indefinitely, regardless of what she had heard, so he used those few moments to think.
What exactly had he said? How would she have interpreted it? Zhou had thought he was after Mandrake, so it had seemed wisest to go with that, to try to deter him and the other bounty hunters who lacked the specialized training Sergei had received. It had crossed his mind to admit he was working for Mandrake now, and that they would have to go through him to collect that bounty, but that wasn’t the truth, since Sergei was here with the girlfriend instead. That idiot Zhou had known Mandrake was down on the planet, too, but for all he knew, Sergei was just getting some quick information from Ankari and then would be on his way down to deal with Mandrake…
He sighed and lowered his hand. His head hurt. There was a reason Fleet had put him into a combat unit and not anything that required a more cerebral capacity.
He was on the verge of pushing open the door and going in to talk to Jamie—at this point, he was certain there wasn’t anyone else in there—when it opened. Part way. Jamie looked out warily, grimacing when she saw him. He sighed again. That was not the expression he wanted to elicit from her. He wanted… nothing that made sense. He needed to stop himself from paying such close attention when she fiddled with her hair or smiled. She was noticing; he was sure of it. Why couldn’t she be mean? Or indifferent? Or haughty? God knew she had twice his IQ. Instead, she kept giving him friendly expressions, as if they were already comrades. At least she had been until she had overheard that conversation. Sergei couldn’t believe he had been fooled by that squeaky bathroom door.
“So,” he said, trying to sound casual—she hadn’t stepped into the hallway. “That was a bounty hunter, one I’ve come across a couple of times.” No need to explain that they were technically guild mates, since they were both dues-paying members. “If he’s here, others will be too. I’m sure some are down on the planet, trying to catch up with Mandrake himself, but there are more than a few cowards out there that will see his girlfriend as a way to set a trap for him.” Sergei kept an eye on that office door even as he tried to explain things to Jamie. He had already ensured that there wasn’t another way out and that the old, scratched window was too small for someone to climb through. “I know what it sounded like, but I was trying to scare him off. I’m not angling to get Mandrake.”
Jamie’s face was hard to read, and it usually wasn’t. That probably meant she didn’t believe him. He couldn’t blame her. Wouldn’t he say the same thing if he was angling to get Mandrake?
But she stepped out of the lavatory and said, “Good. Should we go back to the meeting?” There was a slight tremble to her hand when she extended it toward the office.
It made his soul hurt, the notion that she would fear him. Her shoulders were hunched nearly to her ears as they walked down the corridor, as if she expected him to stick a dagger in her back at any moment. He groped for something he could say to reassure her. Given time, so long as he got his chance to prove that he was with them and not against them, she should figure out the truth, but did Sergei have that time? Jamie would share that conversation with Ankari—and with Sergeant Hazel. It wouldn’t take more than a word to convince Hazel to leave him down here and to report that Sergei couldn’t be trusted. He would never get a chance to return the favor he owed the captain, and who knew what Mandrake would think?
Damn it. He had come here to do a favor for his old commander. How had he become a suspect?
“Wait,” Sergei blurted right before they reached the door and Jamie turned in. He resisted the urge to stop her by grabbing her arm or otherwise touching her—that would only alarm her more. “I would like to explain something. So you’ll understand.”
Ankari and the doctor were looking toward the doorway, toward him and Jamie. He held back another wince.
“Over coffee,” he whispered. “In the cafeteria. Will you give me a minute? While they finish their meeting?”
Thankfully, Jamie didn’t turn her back on him or shut him down straight away. He wasn’t sure why, but he held hope when she repeated, “The cafeteria?”
He nodded, wanting to point out that it was a public space with several people in it, so he naturally couldn’t be intending to harm her in any way. But she was smart—hadn’t he just been dwelling on that?—and she would figure it out. If she wanted to go off with him. Or was willing to, anyway.
Jamie gave Ankari a long look, and Ankari frowned at him and at Jamie too. The doctor cleared her throat, probably wanting to get back to their discussion.
“Getting a coffee,” Jamie finally said, and pointed to the cafeteria.
His heart swelled. Sergei wasn’t sure why, but he was getting a chance.
Ankari hesitated and looked at him again. He tried to look innocent. Or at least unthreatening. She waved to them, then returned her focus to the doctor.
“Just a moment,” Sergei whispered. He pulled out a mini surveillance kit, stuck a couple of tiny cameras to the wall to monitor the hallway, and then another onto the jamb to watch the meeting. The devices wouldn’t record sound, but he shouldn’t need that. He thumbed instructions into the controller, then nodded Jamie toward the waiting room. He shouldn’t leave Ankari—a real bodyguard wouldn’t—but the cameras made him feel less guilty about the decision. Besides, he could be fired within the hour and left on the planet if he didn’t convince Jamie of his good intentions. Who would watch Ankari then?
Jamie followed him through the waiting area and toward the cafeteria. He noticed the way she didn’t put her back to him, and again that stung him. It shouldn’t when he had so recently met her. What did it matter? And yet… it did.
A few people sat in the cafeteria, drinking coffees and eating meals. Sergei waited for Jamie to punch in an order for a “vanilla bomber,” ordered black coffee for himself, then swiped his palm across the payment sensor. The machine spit out their drinks within a few seconds, and he led the way to a table in the corner. He thought she might balk, since the nearest people were closer to the aisle, but he did not want anyone overhearing what he feared he was going to have to share. He wasn’t even comfortable with the idea of Jamie hearing it, but the truth might be the only thing that bought her belief.
She perched on the edge of the booth, her hands wrapped around the mug. Sergei sat across from her, looked into her eyes, and… forgot everything he had meant to say. He kicked himself mentally. This was no time to get nervous about talking to a pretty girl. He had to save his butt here.
“My father doesn’t approve of me meeting with boys unchaperoned,” Jamie said out of nowhere.
It startled him into laughing, or maybe it was the release of tension that did that. She wasn’t smiling, so it had probably been a nervous joke, rather than anything intentionally playful. Or maybe it hadn’t been a joke at all. Maybe she wanted him to know she had a big, brawny father who would kick his ass if Sergei hurt her.
“Oh?” he asked, going along with it, because he hadn’t quite figured out how to say what he meant to say yet. “Is he bigger than me?”
“Much bigger. And ex-Crimson Ops, as well.”
Sergei snorted, assuming that was a lie—he had been picturing a farmer, not a fighter—but she arched a single eyebrow.
&n
bsp; “Really?” he asked curiously.
“Really. He met my mother on leave one year, kept going back to see her, and decided to retire from the Fleet. They went back to his parents’ farm on Mercruse and had kids. He’s in his fifties now, but still tougher than titanium nails.”
Sergei wanted to relax and joke with her, but her shoulders were still tense. Again, he had the impression that he was getting this information as a warning, even if a subtle one. The threat of a vengeful father was somewhat ameliorated by the idea that he lived halfway across the system, but now that Sergei was imagining an older version of Viktor Mandrake as her father, he admitted he might be a touch intimidated if he ever showed up for a family dinner. Not that she would invite him. This whole discussion, the idea that she was talking about her father as if her parents were still a big part of her life, reminded him that she was way too young for him. Not that he had ever actually courted a girl and had to deal with a father, at any age. He had still been a virgin when he joined the Fleet, and his first experiences with women hadn’t encouraged him to seek out others for some time.
Jamie took a sip of her drink, and he reminded himself that he was supposed to be sharing this information with her, not simply thinking about it. That had been the plan, anyway.
“Jamie,” he said slowly. “I’d like to tell you how I met Mandrake and some of the things that happened when we were working together.” Like wasn’t exactly the right word. He would prefer to take these secrets to his grave and loathed the fact that Fleet still had a record of him somewhere. Not that the record had all the truths in it… “So you’ll understand that I wouldn’t betray him. Ever.”
“All right.” Her face was hard to read, but it wasn’t closed off. She seemed to be an open-minded person by nature. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t been fazed by Hazel’s insinuations—or truths. Maybe it made sense that someone with a Crimson Ops soldier for a father wouldn’t bat an eye at the notion of an assassin. Though she certainly wasn’t jaded, not judging by the compassion that had been on her face in the waiting room.
Mandrake Company- The Complete Series Page 55