by Elsa, Sandra
#
Early the next morning we got up and made breakfast. Sorenson was on the couch. Greg was sprawled in an easy chair and Tony was laid out on the floor under the picture window.
Sorenson sat up the moment I opened the bedroom door.
“You eating?” I asked him.
“You cooking?”
“Don’t let that scare you off.”
He smiled. “What are we eating?”
I had planned eggs, but I only had a dozen and with six people that was going to use what I had. “Looks like pancakes and sausage.”
“What kind of syrup do you have?”
“Aren’t you picky? I have no idea what kind of syrup I have. You’ll have to go look.”
He stood up and stretched and I stopped to admire the view as his white shirt pulled taut across well developed muscles.
Harrison slapped my ass, “C’mon Frankie, gimme a break.”
“I can still admire the scenery. You have to admit he’s pretty nice to look at. I always appreciated the scenery, but I was still a virgin when you married me. Trust me, nobody comes close to you.”
Sorenson grinned and Harrison grumbled. “Let’s make breakfast.”
“Anything I can do to help?” Sorenson asked.
“You can set the table for six of us. Tony? Greg? You guys eating? Jerry in his room?”
“He stayed in last night,” Sorenson said.
Tony and Greg rolled over, looking a little the worse for a few too many beers. “Did I hear something about pancakes?” Greg moaned.
“And sausage,” I said, in my most cheerful voice.
Tony got up and ran toward the bathroom.
In the kitchen, Harrison got out the pancake mix, and after pointing Sorenson toward the dishes, I threw the sausage in a pan. Harrison stirred the eggs, powdered soy milk and water, into the mix. I put the griddle on and coated it with non-stick spray. By the time the pancakes started cooking, Sorenson was opening drawers looking for silverware, and Jerry stumbled into the kitchen.
“You three are entirely too cheerful for this time in the morning,” Jerry said as he slouched down at the table.
“We got to the party late and left early,” Harrison said.
“So what are you still doing here, Sorenson?” Jerry asked.
“Mrs. Kendrel invited me to stay. It would be rude to refuse an invitation from a beautiful woman.”
“Uncle Jordan sicced you on her, didn’t he?”
“I’ve had worse duties.”
“Like?”
“Retrieving miscreant boys from hospitals. Bringing them home more dead than alive and nearly wiped of their talent.”
“Had to bring that up,” Jerry muttered.
“Sitting at a desk, scanning through files of guests expected at a gala is worse duty than this. I have seldom had a duty I enjoy more. I wouldn’t mind staying here, but Frankie will never truly accept me being around. Not even if I tell her I’m no longer interested in working for the president.”
“Careful what you wish for. If you look like she’s willing to be friendly with you, he may just leave you here.”
“Jordan Drover knows it’d be a waste of a good man to leave him here,” I said to Jerry. “I only invited him in because it was senseless for him to be out there. But after he leaves, I’ll have to search the house for bugs and beetles and any hedge-witch potions and brews your uncle may have mixed up. Same as if I was to invite Salas to be a part of our expedition.” Sorenson twitched at the name. “You made an error in judgment when you let me know he’s one of you—or used to be one of you anyway.”
“He quit, Frankie. I wish I understood why.”
“If he’s not still working for Mr. Jamison, it’s because I offered him a job when we’re ready for more hands. Now, whether he’s quit or not, it’ll take an act of god for me to trust someone who used to work for Jordan Drover.”
“That’s not fair to him,” Sorenson said. “President Drover is—“ He stopped abruptly as though suddenly aware that his words were probably better off not spoken aloud. “Anyway, if you gave him hope for a better position than he held, it’s not fair to hold past employment against him. Salas is a good man.”
“In my position would you trust him, or accept your recommendation.”
“I would.”
“And why is that? There’s no scenery I like better than that which Harrison offers, and he fought tooth and nail to get me to accept him. Why would I take the word of a mage in the employ of the president?”
Harrison flipped his pancakes then turned his head to kiss me. “It’s a well-known fact in District Seven, my father is more than a little prejudiced against Weres. Mostly because they’re proof against magic.”
“A very well-known fact,” Jerry agreed. “A mage who considered running against him once publicly asked about his policy on Were. It was the only time I’ve seen him fumble publicly before he met you. He recovered, of course and proceeded to point out that he did in fact employ several outstanding Were.”
“I’ll throw my hat into the ring,” Harrison said, “and say the Were can probably be trusted, and if you did offer him a position and he went back and quit, it’s only fair to take him on.”
Sorenson and Jerry both nodded. Sorenson looked relieved that somebody else had said it.
“I told him it would be a long time until we would be able to accept other people on board”
“Which makes his quitting even less suspect.”
“Who quit?” Greg stuck his head in the doorway.
“Don’t jump in the middle of a conversation,” Harrison said. “I say we talk to him. Weres would be very good to have. Probably even work in place of your trolls.”
“No. They’ve fought too hard to become accepted into mainstream society. Putting them in a position to enforce martial law would bring all the old fears back. I’m sure there are some that wouldn’t mind it, but the majority seem happy with the status quo. Maybe not trolls, but we need something fierce that doesn’t mind being disliked, but will do things by the book.”
Sorenson blinked. Then reached for the plate of sausages I handed him. “And where do you plan to find these people?”
I shook my head and grinned. “You’re not stupid. Put all our conversations together and maybe you’ll have intelligence to take to your mighty commander.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance I could convince you that I’m trustworthy?”
“Oh, Sorenson.” I grinned at him, tsking as I shook my head. “Staring at the scenery is vastly different from buying the real estate. You’re one of six that Jordan Drover brought down here. To me that says he trusts you, a lot. And you’ve probably done something to be worthy of that trust.”
“Didn’t hurt to ask. Kinda the answer I expected.” His face remained impassive except for a slight sadness in the gorgeous brown eyes. The sadness wasn’t something he wanted seen…or was it?
“So, did you call in? Or are they all wondering if I chewed you up and spit you out.”
“Called in.”
Harrison flipped the last of the pancakes onto the plate and carried them to the table.
Greg was already seated. Jerry stumbled to the fridge to find margarine, syrup, and apple juice. I glanced at the bottle and quite unnecessarily informed Sorenson, “We have blueberry syrup.”
“There was something red too,” Jerry said. “Not sure if it’s strawberry or raspberry.”
I walked to the kitchen door and called, ”Tony?”
“Be right there.” He did not, however, sound like he would be right there.
“Think we’ll start without him. If he shows up before lunch I’ll be surprised.” I sat down and took a couple of pancakes then passed the plate to Greg.
“So when do we go to the range?” Greg asked.
“Have you ever handled a pistol?” I asked?
He took three pancakes off the top of the stack and passed the plate to Jerry. “Before last night, the cl
osest I ever came to one was seeing it in a tri-d.”
“Never even walked past a trooper?”
“Well yeah, but I’m not even sure District Seven’s watch carries pistols.”
“I’ve seen a couple. Only one I’d swear was functional, but they do carry them.”
“Tell me about this functional pistol.” Sorenson’s voice was coldly businesslike.
Harrison told the tale of our meeting with the three cars on the road and the man who had shot at them. He answered Sorenson’s questions. Did we see the man well enough to describe him? Which car was he driving?
I rolled my eyes and thought duh…the blue Taurus as if they weren‘t all blue Tauruses. But even as I thought it, Harrison said, “The one Frankie dinged. The others just had flat tires.”
“Thought you were driving?” Sorenson persisted.
“I was. But I’d never been shot at before. My instinct was run. When Frankie told me to let her have the wheel, I did. Thought she was going to ram him head on. One thing’s for sure, by the time she swung away from him he wasn’t shooting at us anymore.”
“We’ll look into this.”
“I just figured they couldn’t possibly all know who they were looking for,” I said. “Figured he was overzealous. You think it’s more than that?”
“Every trooper sent outside District Seven was briefed on exactly who they were looking for. They had pictures and they had orders that neither of you were to be harmed. Unlike the rest of the world, District Seven has known all along that Harrison Kendrel is Jordan Drover’s son. Yes, there was more to it.”
“Well damn…I missed that one.”
“Considering you jumped into the game without true comprehension of what you’d gotten yourself into, you were swimming better than either team coming out of District Seven. That would be Jordan Drover’s team and the people trying to kill Harrison.”
“You knew even back then he was a target?”
“No. Until you pointed it out to us, we were unaware of the problem. It was not a warm and fuzzy mood in the office the night Jordan Drover brought us your concerns.”
“There were even a couple of team members who thought you dreamed this up to distract us from recovering Harrison. But you’d already convinced President Drover, so we started looking into it. Harrison was not the only one being targeted. As you mentioned, Jerry had nearly been killed. When he disappeared again we at first feared a second attempt had been made on him—“
“When did you stop worrying about him?” I wondered how long it had taken them to figure out where he was.
“The moment we talked to Annabel. When he disappeared the first time she was frantic, certain something bad had happened to him. He had a reputation for disliking the fact he was forced to remain in District Seven so nobody worried. We didn’t know where she’d hidden him so he could not be charged with treason, but we knew he was safe.”
“Any other family members targeted?”
“There was a near miss with a hit and run on Annabel, nobody thought much of it until put in context with the rest of the events. Jeffrey Drover remains apart from society in general, due to his sensitivities, so if an attempt was made on him, his own security dealt with it. There are of course, constant attempts on President Drover, but that’s why he has a security team.”
“I can’t believe he met me in Eighty-Six without any of you tagging along.”
“You demanded it. He had reports you were an untalented human, along with tests to verify that. We assumed he’d be safe enough with the watch members from HQ whom you considered friends. Your dislike of mages was well known around HQ. We believed there was a better chance of you speaking to him if we were not there.”
“Well you got that right. Not that I wanted to talk to him at all.”
“We thought that was funny. Figured if the chief had you for ten minutes you’d tell us anything we wanted to know.”
“Yeah, well who’s laughing now?”
“Not us. And even before other aspects of you, came to light, your choice of meeting place didn’t occur to any of us until we lost the tag on the car. Thought Jamison was going to die on the spot. He called your Sergeant Wallin who knew the District you’d chosen and its suppression generator. I don’t think his heart beat until he hung up the phone.”
Tony stumbled through the doorway. His face was pale and drawn, but he sat at the table and grabbed a pancake, placed a line of syrup down the center, rolled it up and shoved half of it in his mouth. He didn’t even look at the sausage. “So, what are we talking about?” He sounded a little better than he looked.
“Fascinating stuff,” Greg informed him. “Harrison’s wife has been one up on the pres and his staff since she met him.”
“Maybe,” I said with my usual caution. “Remember who he works for. Sorenson wouldn’t be supplying information without permission. And if he has permission, that means they’re probably trying to lull me into complacency by letting me think I’m a step ahead.”
Sorenson shook his head and grinned. “Nope. We’re hoping for compromise.”
“He already has my word on any compromise I’m going to give him.”
“Consider me a liaison. If you ever have need of assistance in the future, call me, not your friends in HQ.”
“My friends are trustworthy.”
‘’And a step apart from those of us who may need your information or be able to respond most rapidly if a crisis occurs beyond your ability to handle it. I think we’re agreed, Harrison is a target. By marrying him you made yourself a target, even if they haven’t yet figured out what makes you special enough President Drover tolerates your insubordination.”
“Thought that was my charm and wit.”
Another grin. “President Drover was not happy to get news of his son second-hand.”
“I don’t even know who got called when we were shot. I was kinda busy trying not to die.”
“It might have helped if you hadn’t made friends with the watch and informed them you preferred to keep him out of his son’s business.”
“That’s not how I worded it.” I stared down at my cooling breakfast and cut my sausage up, knowing full well, exact wording didn’t matter. “And I thought they called him when the registry was consulted after the first incident.”
“They called Marly Thomas. She oversees the registry. She called President Drover. Yes, they did dial his office directly for the second incident. Apparently, not knowing if either of you would live or die, overrode your wishes on the subject.”
“I wasn’t injured enough to be at risk of dying. And once I got a look at Harrison’s wound I knew he’d survive. Any decent EMT could have told you the same.”
“You yourself just said you were busy trying not to die. Even if the wound isn’t fatal, blood loss can kill you. You, particularly, they said it was touch and go. Apparently your stubbornness made you deny your injury. When they arrived on scene they assumed the blood was Harrison’s since you were upright and mobile. The holster spread the blood out so it looked like a smear. The EMT in the bus said when he looked at you and saw the blood draining steadily, he couldn’t believe you were still awake.”
“Well, excuse the hell out of me, I’ve been hardheaded all my life and I’ve been injured before. Lot closer to death than that. Nevertheless you were informed in a timely manner.”
“If you had me on speed-dial it could have been much timelier. I’m not asking you to trust me. Just to acknowledge his father has a right to know if either of you get in trouble.”
I shoved my last bite of pancake in my mouth and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. “Fine. Give me your phone number.”
“07-44-44-82”
I punched it in. “Damn. Anybody steals my phone they’re going to think I like mages. That’s three numbers with that prefix. Never even accepted a phone call from there before three months ago.”
“We’ve gone over your client files from your office. You did work for three mages i
n the past.”
“None of whom could see magic. All of whom were desperate enough to abide my rules no matter how peculiar they may have found them. If they wanted to see me, they came to my office. For a brief time I even had my voicemail say, if you’re calling from District Seven I’m not likely to take your case but you’re welcome to stop by my office. Wally told me I could be sued for discrimination so I made it less obvious and just didn’t answer the phone. And going through my case files—not cool. That would be the private portion of private investigator that you violated.”
“You left them behind. President Drover had us examine them to make sure he was not disposing of anything important after he rented the office.”
Blood began to pound in my temples. “And my home?”
“He rented that as well, but it was empty. Completely. We assumed you emptied it with the help of your friends on the watch.”
“Nope.” But I had a fair idea who had. If it wasn’t Charlie and the District Eight Watch, it had been my father. My voice betrayed my anger at their invasion of my life and even Sorenson’s calm, accepting, demeanor, slipped to silence.
I finished typing his name with the phone number and slapped the phone closed. We finished the meal without another word, then I went to the bedroom, changed to sweatpants and t-shirt, and told Harrison. “I’m going out. I’ve had enough socializing. Gonna go run awhile.”
“Want me to come along?”
“No. I need to be alone.”
“As long as you plan to run back here, I’m good with that.”
I kissed him, then headed out the door with Sorenson on my heels. “What part of ‘alone’ don’t you get?”
“You’re not even armed.”
I reached inside my sweats down along my thigh and withdrew a twenty-two. “If I have to use this to get some space, I will.”
Sorenson held his hands away from his body in a gesture of submission. “And if you run into a Were? That’s not powerful enough to even slow him down like your nine would.”
I stretched down the other side and pulled out an eight inch throwing knife. Silver flakes coated the blade. “You’re not going to come up with an excuse to follow me. And if you choose to follow me, remember what my last week has been like and expect I will shoot first and ask questions later. Now, sit. I waved toward a chair with the muzzle of the gun. He headed that way, and I jammed my weapons back where they belonged and took off in a sprint.