The whole night had been a disaster. His only relief came from the fact that he had gotten Jamie out of there before anything more degrading than some flesh-touching happened. If she had lost her virginity to some hulking masseur named Spartak while in the middle of an orgy… Dear God, Sergei would have had to shoot himself. Forget the father.
He leaned his head back, staring up at the dark clouds above the flashing lights and holosigns that dotted every skyscraper in the city, letting the rain splash onto his face. He needed to gather himself, to make sure they weren’t being followed, that no dangers lurked ahead. He definitely didn’t need to dwell on the fact that Jamie hadn’t said a word to him since walking out of the changing room. She probably would have preferred not to see him at all, not until the light of day made some of the weirdness of that whole situation fade, but he couldn’t let her walk back on her own, not after the attack earlier that day. Yes, Ankari—and her briefcase—had been the target then, but Jamie was a part of the business too.
When they reached the docks-and-shops stop, Jamie hustled off without so much as a glance back at him. Sergei kept pace, but he gave her some distance too. He had been breathing down her neck in that spa. In part, to let anyone who had ideas know that she was off-limits—a plan that hadn’t worked quite as well as he had intended—but in part, because he had wanted to be close. Even before walking into that haze of incense, he had struggled to keep his hands to himself. When she had walked out in that skimpy robe… and later, when that robe had fallen off… And her top… He might try to forget the rest of the night, but those images were burned into his brain. Even if it would be respectful if he erased them, he wouldn’t be able to. That memory would star in his fantasies for the rest of his life.
The shuttle came into view, the flashing lights of a holosign reflecting off its pink hull. Sergei was relieved to see the hatch closed. As bad as this night had been, it would be worse if the woman he was supposed to be protecting had disappeared.
At the base of the shuttle, Jamie tapped her shoulder, then seemed to realize she wasn’t wearing her coveralls and that her comm-patch wasn’t there. She dug a unit out of her pocket instead. She lifted it to her mouth, but lowered it again without saying anything. She turned toward Sergei, meeting his eyes for the first time since leaving the pool room in the spa. It didn’t last long. Her gaze slid down to his nose.
“Two things,” she said.
“Yes?” he asked warily, anticipating some admonishment. He prayed she wouldn’t tell Sergeant Hazel about this. He needed to find his man before he was taken off this mission. He still needed his chance to pay off his debt, to prove his worth, to be accepted back on the ship.
“First off, I’ll start researching that female finance lord—lady—whatever. The one with the private island. I’m assuming that when Fergusson emphasized that someone had to love Felgard to put out a bounty for his killer, that it’s a woman. I’m reminded by some of those hot tub occupants that that isn’t necessarily true, but I’m going to start there.”
Sergei hadn’t been thinking at all of Fergusson’s “hint,” so it took him a moment to get his brain on that track. Jamie spoke again before he had a response.
“Second, I want to apologize for talking you into that… that.” She flung a hand toward the other side of the city, the motion so quick and agitated that she would have lost rings, had she been wearing any. “I had no idea that was the kind of appointment that I was signing us up for. And I apologize also for my actions in there. It was inappropriate—I should have listened to your warning about the scent. I promise, it won’t happen again.” She jerked her comm unit up to her lips. “We’re back. Let us in, please.”
“Jamie,” Sergei rushed to say, knowing he only had seconds. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who should have realized what we were walking into. I have more experience with the darker, er, lustier side of humanity. I shouldn’t have taken you in there. And please don’t—” He stopped when the ramp opened and light spilled out of the shuttle. It was just as well. He had almost pleaded with her to rescind her promise and said she could lick his stomach and fling her arms around him any time she wanted, as long as she wasn’t drugged or tricked into doing so.
Given that Sergeant Hazel was the one standing at the top of the ramp, Sergei was very glad he hadn’t uttered any of that. Besides, the vehemence behind Jamie’s promise told him all too much. Not only had that situation embarrassed her, but she must regret her actions too.
“The would-be traitors have returned,” Hazel announced.
Her tone filled Sergei with a surge of guilt, even though he didn’t know what she was talking about. His first thought was that she had found out about the spa and thought he had betrayed Jamie. But she had said traitors. As in both of them.
“What?” Jamie asked.
“Why don’t you come in and have a chat with Ankari?” Hazel pointed into the shuttle, then disappeared inside.
Jamie walked up first, a bewildered expression having replaced the chagrin of a moment before. Sergei strode behind her again, noting how naturally his feet took him to that spot. Ankari was the one he was supposed to be assiduously guarding. He couldn’t let himself forget that.
Ankari and Lauren were sitting near the front of the shuttle when he got up there. That was a surprise. He almost didn’t recognize the scientist, having seen her face so seldom on their trip. Sergeant Hazel was leaning against the wall, her hands on her hips and laser pistols holstered at each of those hips.
“I got the most interesting message from the office of a Fletcher Fergusson a moment ago.” Ankari tapped the console with a finger. “Any idea what he said?”
“I may have promised him he could be moved to the top of the waiting list for the alien microbiota transplants.” Jamie’s brow crinkled. She was probably trying to remember exactly what she had promised. If her thoughts were as muddled as Sergei’s, she wouldn’t remember a lot of the specifics of the conversation.
“He did mention that,” Ankari said, “and also this…” She tapped a button and a video displayed in the air over the console.
Sergei watched with horror as Fergusson’s “office” coalesced in front of them, complete with Jamie and himself in their scanty clothing. The hot tub and sofas full of intertwined lovers were off-camera, and he hoped they stayed that way. Fortunately, the video was short. It played back the couple of minutes where Jamie had been pretending they wanted to double-cross Mandrake and Microbacteriotherapy, Inc. and collect that bounty. Then it snapped off.
“Oh,” Jamie said.
Hazel’s eyebrows rose. Ankari was smirking. Sergei hoped that meant she didn’t believe that Jamie had honestly meant to betray her. He was less certain that was Hazel’s belief. She kept glaring at Sergei. Not that Sergei had even said anything during that snippet of video. He had been standing behind Jamie and trying to look fierce. That might have worked better if that damned tight swimming suit hadn’t been showing off his erection. If he had known where the vid pickup was, he would have stood behind Jamie’s other shoulder. He hoped Ankari and Hazel hadn’t noticed. This whole night had been nothing but demeaning.
“We thought he might have been the one who set the bounty, and we were trying to trick him into confirming it,” Jamie said.
Sergei was glad she was the one doing the talking, because her innocence came through. He could have told the truth and still managed to sound guilty.
“And did he?” Ankari asked curiously.
“No. I’m fairly sure it wasn’t him. The fact that he sent this over makes me more sure of it. He was interested in working with you and probably wanted to win your favor. If he had put the bounty on the captain’s head, he wouldn’t have bothered, would he?”
“What I want to know,” Sergei said, “is when he found time to send messages. He was still engrossed in his staff when we left.”
Jamie snorted. “No doubt. A very efficient man, it seems.”
“No doubt,” Hazel
murmured. She was watching Ankari. Waiting to see if Ankari believed Jamie? Maybe she thought Sergei, with his insidious evilness, had somehow convinced Jamie to work against Ankari and Mandrake Company.
He sighed, wondering if there was any possible path to having all of the suspicion removed from his name. To think, all this had started with him wanting to do a favor.
“Fergusson gave us a lead,” Jamie said, “as to who actually did put a bounty on the captain’s head.”
“Oh?” Ankari asked.
“He implied it was someone who loved Felgard, and from my earlier research, I believe there’s only one woman on this planet who might qualify, because she traveled in the same stratosphere as he did and has had business dealings with him.”
“Anyone it would be easy to visit?” Ankari’s earlier humor had faded, and her eyes were hard now. Her hand dropped to her waist, where she sometimes carried a laser pistol.
“Not… exactly. She has her own private cloud island in the southern hemisphere.”
“Islands,” Lauren said. “What is it with these people and their islands?”
“Islands are easy to defend and difficult to infiltrate,” Sergei said. “Especially islands in the air. There’s no way we would be able to sneak up without her people being aware of it.” He was glad they were talking about the woman now and that Ankari seemed to believe Jamie’s treacherous talk had been a ploy.
“Fergusson might warn her about us too,” Jamie said. “I don’t think the fact that he gave me a tip means that he wouldn’t turn around and give someone else a tip.” She waved at the spot where the video had played. “I suppose I should research their relationship, see if they’re allies or enemies.”
“We’ll mull it over during the next couple of days,” Ankari said. “We have appointments here and on Inis Mardun before we can pay anyone else a visit. And Viktor…” Her gaze lifted toward the ceiling. “His distance should mean he’s safe, at least for the next week.”
“So long as Zharkov doesn’t have a buddy hiding on the ship,” Hazel muttered.
Sergei frowned at her. “I hope you’re simply implying that there might be another assassin, not that I truly have some ally I intend to sic at Mandrake.”
“Of course,” Hazel said, though her eyes said, I’ll be watching you.
Just what he needed.
* * *
As her face was smashed into the mat for the eighty-third time that morning, Jamie reminded herself that she had asked for this torture. She reviewed her options, but couldn’t imagine a way she might escape the hold. So far, she could only manage three escapes well, and none of them seemed to apply to having someone lying on her back with her legs twisted into a pretzel behind her.
She finally tapped the mat for surrender. “When Spartak had me in this position, it was a lot more pleasurable.”
Sergei released her, kneeling back on the mat. He didn’t respond, and she grimaced. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut. For the last four days, they had shared an unspoken agreement not to discuss what had happened in Fergusson’s office/orgy chamber. She hoped she hadn’t offended him.
“You remember his name?” Sergei asked.
Ah, maybe she hadn’t offended him; maybe he had simply needed to think about it to remember who she was talking about.
“Sure, don’t you?” Jamie pushed herself into a sitting position and faced Sergei. A freighter was docking behind him, coming in with the first light of dawn. They had already been up and practicing for over an hour, since Ankari had an early appointment, and Sergei would accompany her. The team was in Tirith Sun now, the third cloud city they had visited and the last where the business had meetings scheduled.
“No. My brain wasn’t working very well in there,” Sergei said. “I don’t remember much.”
Jamie hoped he didn’t remember her licking his belly, but she doubted she was that lucky.
“Massages aren’t usually a part of self-defense classes,” he added.
“Not even after them?” Jamie rubbed a sore shoulder. She had thought she did enough physical activity that she was in decent shape, but nothing prepared one’s body for being hurled across mats and contorted into unnatural positions.
“Uhm.” Sergei watched her rubbing her shoulder for a moment, then looked away. “Probably not. Unless you want to look for one of those spas in this city. I understand it’s a chain.”
“No, thank you.”
“Are you ready for another round?” Sergei shifted to get up.
“No,” Jamie blurted. She winced at her outburst, which had been louder than she meant, but she needed more of a break. Sure, she had been the one to purchase the wrestling mat, and she had asked for this. She just had expected more of a one-hour-a-day-and-two-days-a-week training regimen. Sergei had turned out to be a dedicated instructor. “I mean, I have some news for you. You know I’ve been busy trying to track down that fuel line leak, but I finally got some time to research last night.”
“Oh?” Sergei settled back on the mat and leaned on his palms. A relaxed pose, though he never went long without eyeing their surroundings. The dock wasn’t busy this early in the morning, and it wasn’t the carnival the one at MountSky Central had been, but a few yawning workers wandered past, heading into town or carrying bags of take-out back to their ships.
“It was on the woman. Lord or Lady Cyrille Laframboise. Her public entry says Lord, but judging by the picture, she’s definitely a woman. Maybe there’s no such title as finance lady. GalCon has its share of chauvinistic policies.”
Sergei’s brows rose. Right, he probably wasn’t terribly concerned about chauvinism. He just wanted to take down the person with the bounty on the captain’s head.
“Anyway, as I said before, she lives on a private island. There is a community there of just under a thousand people. Her servants and workers account for some, but she runs a couple of her businesses there also. There’s no tourism, though, and she doesn’t entertain many guests. Only company shuttles are allowed onto the island. Others may be shot for attempting to land. Or for flying within three miles of her airspace.”
“Shot?”
“It seems that, while there’s an overarching planetary government, each individual city has a lot of leeway in establishing its own laws and policies.”
“So it’s unlikely that we can fly the pink shuttle down for a visit,” Sergei said.
“Not unless invited, no. And I don’t think we better try the ruse of wanting to sell her gut specimens. If she is the one who issued the bounty, she’ll know all about Mandrake Company and likely our affiliation with it. She may know we had something to do with Felgard’s death too.” Or Ankari did, at least. Jamie didn’t particularly want to get blamed for that. That whole mess had been above her head, and she hadn’t known what was going on or why they were being imprisoned most of the time. It was only in the last month or so that she had gotten more of a grasp on what the business actually did. Admittedly, maintaining the shuttle and building things were more her passion. “I don’t think we should approach openly at all. I was thinking of disguises.”
Sergei’s brows drifted upward again. “You already have a plan?”
“Not a plan. It’s your mission. I just wanted to share some ideas that came to me while I was doing my research.”
“All right. Go on.”
“First off, you should know that I also researched Fergusson’s relationship to her, and they don’t seem to have much of one. She’s actually something of a rival, and it looks like she’s won out in some deals they’ve both gone after. And, of course, he’s still aspiring to the position of finance lord, and she’s already had it for the last five years. In short, I doubt Fergusson sent her a note describing us—or a video of us blathering in his office.”
Sergei grimaced. Yeah, he hadn’t been a fan of seeing that video, either. Jamie was just thankful it hadn’t shown more. Even if she had later described to Ankari some of what had happened —if only to warn her what
she might expect if she was ever invited to a spa for an appointment—she hadn’t gone into the lurid details. Certainly no mention of stomach licking.
“Still, we may want to get some of those fake faces and fast-dyes for our hair,” Jamie said. “Just in case she has an eye out for us. Or anyone from the Albatross for that matter.”
“We?”
“Well, I assume I’ll be going along.”
“Why?” Sergei gave her a puzzled look, one she tried not to find offensive. Had their last adventure been so horrible that he loathed the idea of going off alone with her again? Granted, it had been uncomfortable, embarrassing, humiliating, and quite a few other words, but… the cringe-causing aspect of it was already fading, at least for Jamie. Maybe his experience had been different.
“Because you’ll need me?” She smiled. It was actually true. The position she had in mind was more suited for her than for him.
“Jamie, I… the last time we went out together… I don’t want to subject you to trouble again. That wasn’t the sort of place I’d ever want to take you, and having you along to watch me kill someone isn’t at the top of the list, either. I appreciate you helping me—you’re very good at research. But I should go alone to his woman’s island. There’s no need for you to put yourself in danger.”
It was a very logical argument, and she wasn’t quite sure why it stung. Nor was she quite sure why she wanted to go with him. She was turning into Ankari, volunteering for crazy adventures. But in this case…
“Ah, actually there is a reason. The job openings, they’re for mechanics. Domestic repairs specialists,” she quoted. “In short, people who can fix robots.”
“Job openings?”
“Maybe I jumped ahead.” She patted her side, wanting to pull out her tablet, but she had forgotten she was wearing Sergeant Hazel’s exercise togs, and her computer was inside the shuttle. “Here’s her island.” She poked a dot into the air between them. “The next closest island is called Salt Cloud, and it’s here—” she poked another dot, “—and is mostly government buildings, but has some shops and industry too. I figured the shuttle could park there, make some appointments, whatever Ankari wants, and then we could amble down to the job fair that’ll be going on there this coming weekend. Among the positions on the list are domestic repair specialists for Laframboise’s island. I thought you could strut around, looking tough and scaring off the other applicants, and that we would then, by default, be the ideal candidates for the job. I can assemble a robot, or whatever they have in mind, and you can assist.”
The Assassin's Salvation (Mandrake Company) Page 12