The Rings of Grissom: Tales of a Former Space Janitor

by Julia Huni

  “You do that,” she snaps.

  “Have you seen my friend?” I ask another caterer after the pink mobster leaves.

  The woman smiles. “Tall, dark, and dreamy? He went upstairs to check the suites.”

  “Thanks.” I wander back to the float tube. Enzo and his assistant have disappeared and the cakes with them. I lift the tablecloth to peek underneath. There’s no grav generator hidden there. From what Enzo said, it was too big to move—could it be under the floor?

  O’Neill returns. “I can’t find her anywhere. And she’s still not answering her comm.”

  “She goes rogue all the time.” I take his arm and urge him into the float tube. “You know she’ll show up when we least expect it. Probably with Putin’s cohort in zip ties.”

  He frowns. “I feel like we’ve made a huge mistake. There’s no evidence they’ve been up to anything! Maybe we should have left everything alone.”

  We step out of the float tube and cross to the garage. Once inside, O’Neill accesses the controls and waves his hand through the “return to base” icon. The vehicle slides up the ramp and onto the street.

  “It’s fine.” I pat his arm. “Lili will be happier having the wedding at home. Jie probably doesn’t care, and if his family is mad, well, they can blame me. The caterers and bakers have more work to do, but they’ll get paid extra.” I rub my temples—I missed something. Something important. What was it?

  “Hey, I clicked the ‘go home’ button.” O’Neill flicks the carriage interface, but the word override has appeared on the screen. “What’s going on?”

  I connect my ring to the vehicle. “Someone has tampered—they’ve reprogrammed the base location. They shouldn’t be able to do that. You’re supposed to need a DNA sample from the owner and a password to change that. That’s why selling one of these is such an ordeal.”

  “Can you stop it?”

  “I don’t know. Usually there’s a manual override—a physical switch that allows you to stop the vehicle.” I unbuckle my restraint and crouch beside the seat. “The access hatch is jammed. Look, someone soldered it shut.” I point at the bead of metal running around the edge of the panel under the dash.

  “I knew I should have left you at home!” O’Neill twists around to reach under the back seat. “Frak! The blaster is gone!”

  Cold pools in my stomach. “Who’s doing this? Where are they taking us?”

  “Just stay calm. Keep working on that manual override.” O’Neill flicks his holo-ring. “I’m sending a message to Vanti—and one to Kate. She can track us and send the Peacekeepers to us.”

  I pull out the first aid kit Vanti left for me—it’s still in my jacket pocket. There’s a small pair of tweezers inside. I grab them and drop the rest of the packet back into my pocket. “I might be able to pull some of this off.” I pick at the solder clogging the panel’s hinges.

  “We’re back in the old part of town.” O’Neill peers through the front of the carriage. “Not far from al-Petrosian’s place. There are a lot of warehouses out here—some of the older businesses still operate from this area. How’s it coming?”

  “I’ve got one hinge clear, but the—is there a tool kit in here? I might be able to pry the panel free if you can find a screwdriver.” The tweezers slide into the gap but bend under the force of my prying.

  O’Neill hands me a small multi-tool. “See if one of those blades will work.”

  I fold out a few of the implements. A saw blade—too flexible. A toothpick—too thick. A fork? I need to remember he has this. Could be handy for cake-related emergencies.

  “I think it’s too late.” His voice is low. Worried. He wrenches at the door handle. “The door is locked.”

  We’ve stopped in front of a large blocky building. Of course, what building on Grissom isn’t large and blocky? But I’m betting this one doesn’t have a courtyard inside. A big door ratchets open, the clunking and rattling audible inside the carriage. It sounds like an old-fashioned chain and pulley system. When the door is clear but not completely open, the carriage slides inside. The clanking resumes as the door slowly rolls down behind us.

  Sunlight illuminates stacks of boxes near the door, but most of the interior is hidden in shadow. The carriage pulls into the center of the space and stops. The system powers down.

  The light dwindles as the external door lowers. With a louder clank and a soft crash, the last of the light goes. In the darkness, the unmistakable sound of a bolt being shot reaches us. “I guess we’re locked in.” A shiver runs down my spine.

  O’Neill’s warm hand squeezes my shoulder. “Move up here—between the front seats. I want you behind me at all times. And if you fire that stunner, make sure it’s not pointed at me, okay?”

  A slightly hysterical giggle burbles out. “That sounds like something I might do.” My hands and feet are cold, and acid churns in my stomach. I pull the stunner out of my pocket. “Bobby isn’t here.” I whisper.

  “What’s that?”

  “I just need to remember Bobby isn’t here. He’s in Attica. No matter how scary this is, it’s not Putin scary.”

  O’Neill gives me a fast hug then pushes me behind him. “That’s my girl.”

  The carriage doors all pop open at once. Slick programming, designed to freak us out. I take a couple of deep breaths and will myself not to shake.

  A blinding light goes on, shining on the right-side door. “Please, won’t you join us?”

  Ice water pours through my body. “That sounded like him.” I’m not sure the words made any sound.

  O’Neill’s hand reaches back and touches mine. “Stay behind me.” He steps toward the lighted door. I follow as closely as possible, almost stepping on his heels. He walks down the steps and stops at the bottom.

  For a second, nothing happens. Then hands reach out of the darkness and grab O’Neill. He twists and gets a shot off but collapses to the ground. The hands drag him away. I scream and lunge forward, but more hands restrain me.

  “Thanks for coming, Annabelle,” Bobby says, stepping forward into the light.

  Thirty-Two

  My heart stops.

  Then stutters on. “How—how can you be here?”

  He holds out a hand to assist me down from the carriage. Like a freaking fairytale character. Anger flares, hot and fast, in the pit of my icy stomach. I straighten, staring down at him. Taking a deep breath, I try to channel my inner Ice Dame. “What do you want?”

  His lips curl in an appreciative smile. “I want you.”

  “How did you get out of Attica?” I demand, hoping he can’t hear the shake in my voice.

  “Please, join me. I’ll explain everything.”

  I ignore his hand and stomp down the steps. Every movement takes a supreme effort of will as I get closer to him. Sweat breaks out on my temples and upper lip. My breathing speeds up, and I start feeling light-headed. I try to take deep breaths, but my chest contracts. This man terrifies me.

  He turns and gestures for me to precede him. A red carpet stretches across the warehouse. A series of spotlights turn on, illuminating the crimson path to a pair of armchairs and a couch, like the set of a vid-net talk show. O’Neill lies slumped in one corner of the couch. His head lolls against the high back, but his eyes are open and angry. Vanti sits on the other end of the couch, her hands secured to her ankles by a long zip tie. A wide piece of tape covers her mouth, and her jaw works as she glares at our captor.

  “Isn’t this nice, the old gang back together again?” Bobby gestures to one of the armchairs and sits in the other. A small table stands between the chairs, holding two crystal glasses and a bottle of wine from Apollone Vintners—the same wine we drank my first night at the O’Neill home. Could he be any more cliché?

  I cross my arms, standing in the center of the space between Bobby and my friends. “What. Do. You. Want?”

  “Please sit, Annabelle.” When I don’t move, his eyes flick behind me, and his chin drops a fraction. Hands grab my arms,
and his goons wrestle me into the chair. Vanti grunts when I step on her toes.

  “Now that we’re comfortable, I’ll tell you what I want.” Bobby pours two glasses of wine and offers me one. I glare. He holds his glass up in toast then sips. He makes a face. “Not my favorite wine. You were wise to refrain.” He sets the glass down.

  “I’m sure you didn’t invite us here just to insult the wine, Bobby.” My pounding heart has slowed to steady thudding, and my breathing has eased. It’s hard to take him seriously as a villain when he’s behaving so foppishly.

  He’s undoubtedly trying to put me off balance, so I resolve to stay alert. Vanti makes faces at me, but with the tape across her mouth, I can’t tell what she’s trying to say. Oh! The internal comm. I drop my hands into my lap, trying to figure out how I can initiate a call without him noticing.

  I glance at Vanti again. Her hands are bare—he’s taken her holo-ring. O’Neill’s is gone, too. But mine is still on my finger. I need a diversion.

  “You’re right, I’m not here to insult the wine—that’s an added bonus. Austere, grippy, tight.” He smiles, his slick, creepy, upper-lev smirk. “About what I’d expect from a winery owned by the Mendozas.” His eyes flick to O’Neill then back to me.

  “I liked it,” I say, just to be contrary. And because I did.

  “Of course you did.” His smile turns condescending. “Your education was severely limited during your years on Kaku. Your mother should never have allowed that.”

  “We aren’t here to talk about my mother or my education.” I drop my left hand between my leg and the arm of the plush chair, where he can’t see it. Without looking, I flick the duress signal Vanti insisted on teaching me. That should bring help from local law enforcement. “Why are you here, Bobby?”

  “I’m here because I want my life back.” His eyes blaze as he leans over the table, his face only centimeters from mine. The words spit out of his mouth like acid. “And, thanks to you, I can’t get that life back, can I? So, I’ll just have to destroy yours in return.”

  Unreasoning fear flings me back in my seat. He grins. Then he sits back, and the feral expression fades. This time, it’s the meaningless smile top-levs learn to dispense to anyone below them on the social ladder. He wears it like a mask to hide his anger, but the fury leaks through. “I’ve gone to the trouble of vacating the lovely single-room apartment you secured for me, in an effort to make your misery my life’s work.”

  “You were there—just yesterday.” I vividly remember him waving at me from his opulent prison cell. “You can’t be here—there’s no way to get from S’Ride to Grissom in less than a day.”

  “I haven’t been there in ages, dear,” he says. “I hired someone to fill in for me.”

  “You—he was a decoy? How did you fool the DNA checks?”

  He waves a finger at me. “I’m not giving up all my secrets. I might need to use that trick again someday. Enough chitchat. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to make your life a living hell. I’m going to kill everyone you hold dear.” His waving finger turns to point at O’Neill and then Vanti. The melodramatic flourish chills me. “And everyone they hold dear. But not all at once, and not all today. I’m going to take my time, so you have plenty of opportunity to suffer. Then I’ll pin it on you, so you can enjoy my Attica residence yourself.”

  “You won’t. You can’t. We’ve stopped your plot. And the building is being surrounded right now. You need to let us go, or they’ll—” My imagination runs dry as I try to threaten him. He’s holding all the cards. I need to keep him preoccupied until my duress signal brings the cavalry.

  “You haven’t stopped anything. I’ve been setting up a lovely surprise for your hosts for days. All I had to do was convince you to move the wedding to the family compound, so I can spring my trap. You really should have left everything alone.”

  “Wait. Are you saying we would have been safe if we’d left the wedding at the venue?” I ask. O’Neill’s eyes widen.

  “Of course not. I had plans for that, too. But the home is my preferred location. Much more personal.” Bobby nods at O’Neill as if he’s just offered him a compliment. “You three will stay here while I ensure the event is one to remember. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a copy of the recording. Vid drones are cheap.” He stands. “Oh, and Annabelle, your duress signal didn’t get out. You don’t think I’d leave something like that to chance, do you? Your friend took care of that weeks ago.”

  “What friend?” I leap up, too.

  “Tacky, dear. One should always remember one’s acquaintances.” The malicious smile is back. “Your old friend Stervo—you met recently on Kaku? Your old hacking friend.”

  I stare at him. Stervo had been at Kara’s contracting ceremony. “He’s contracted to Erco’s cousin!”

  “Is he? Didn’t it seem odd that your roommate’s partner would be related to one of your old hacking cronies?”

  It had seemed odd, but most of the people on Kaku knew someone at the Techno-Inst. “Are you saying Erco is in on this?”

  “Sadly, no.” He shakes his head, as if this really bothers him. “You never want to fish too close to the target. But his cousin was easy to bribe.”

  “They weren’t really contracted.” I knew she was way too interested in O’Neill to be with a guy like Stervo. I look at my holo-ring. “What did he do?”

  “He slid a few hooks into your holo-ring programming. I don’t understand all the technical details, but I guess there are ways to gain access if you’re in physical contact with the target. You don’t remember giving him access to your holo-ring?” He grins maliciously. “That Captio is still so effective.

  I drop into my chair. “Stervo did something to my ring then fed me enough Captio to make me forget it?” When Bobby was killing people on SK2, he used CaptioPraevus to make the witnesses forget they’d seen anything. In small doses, it eliminated recent memories. In large, it caused seizures, strokes, and brain damage.

  Bobby runs a finger down my cheek then tips my chin up and leans close. “You always were so quick on the uptake.” He straightens. “I must go. Vern will take care of you. But don’t worry. I’ll be watching over you. Forever.”

  He strides away, barking out orders as he goes. A side door opens, and he disappears through it, followed by a herd of guards and flunkies.

  As soon as they’re gone, I jump up and hurry to the couch. “Are you two okay?” I pull the tape from Vanti’s face, wincing as it rips away. She barely blinks.

  “What did they give him?” she asks, nodding at O’Neill.

  “I don’t know.” I reach into his jacket pocket and pull out his multi-tool. “Use this.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t allow that.” Vern al-Petrosian appears from the darkness and jerks the tool from my hand.

  “You!” Vanti spits. “I knew you were in this up to your eyeballs.”

  Al-Petrosian’s hand flies out, catching Vanti across the mouth with a loud crack. She jerks back without a sound. Red welts swell on her cheek. She grins, blood bright against her white teeth. She spits at him. “Where’s Watson? Is she here, too?”

  “Of course not,” al-Petrosian says. “She’s on her way to the wedding with Ser Putin.”

  “Why are you helping him?” she demands.

  I ignore them, focusing on O’Neill. “Ty, can you move?”

  His eyes flicker. I lean closer and whisper, “One for yes, two for no.” Then I pull back. “I said, can you move?”

  His eyes blink once.

  Behind me, al-Petrosian laughs, a harsh bark. “You put my cousin in prison. Of course I’m helping him!”

  I glance at O’Neill’s hands and legs—they’re untied. Whoever dosed him thought it would be enough to keep him down for a long time, I guess. Big mistake.

  “Your cousin?” Vanti asks. “Wil? If Putin’s so keen to help you, why didn’t he break Wil out when he escaped Attica?”

  I twist around to see his reaction. Vern is star
ing at Vanti, his hands clenching and unclenching. “There was no one to act as a decoy for Wil.”

  “Right.” Vanti nods. “Putin has enough credits to bribe anyone. He could have paid someone to get the body mods and take Wil’s place. But he didn’t. Was that the reward for helping him—he’d get your cousin out?”

  “He will. He promised!” Vern cries.

  “Doesn’t look likely.” Vanti smirks.

  “And he always follows through on his promises,” I add.

  “You don’t know him.”

  I get right in Vern’s face. “No, you don’t know him. I’ve known him since we were in diapers. He’s a psychopathic narcissist who will say whatever he thinks people want to hear to get them to do his dirty work. He lies as easily as breathing. And he’s killed people—lots of people. Not just by setting bombs or ordering minions but with his own hands. He likes it.” I’m nose-to-nose with him, spitting the words out like glass.

  Vern steps back and stumbles over Vanti’s feet. In a flash, Vanti’s knees land on Vern’s stomach. She rips the multi-tool he’s still holding out of his fingers. Two flicks, and the zip ties fall away from her wrists. The knife presses against Vern’s throat.

  O’Neill pushes me down on the couch and crouches beside Vanti. He pats down Vern, pulling a weapon from his pocket. “He’s yours,” he mutters to Vanti. Then he jumps to his feet, standing beside me, eyes scanning the darkness.

  “How many others are still here?” Vanti growls, pushing the knife against Vern’s throat. A red line appears on his dark skin, and a bead of blood swells.

  “They’re coming!” Vern gasps out.

  Footsteps sound, and laser fire blasts through the warehouse. O’Neill drags me from the couch, throwing himself on top of me. I hit the floor with a thump, slamming my head and shoulders into the cold plascrete.

  Lying half on top of me, O’Neill fires around the end of the couch. Vern’s blaster spits out gouts of light. The stench of burning fabric hits my nose. The corner of the couch smolders.