The Rings of Grissom: Tales of a Former Space Janitor

by Julia Huni

  The blonde woman glances over and gives a finger wave.

  “That blonde is Angie,” I tell Vanti.

  The redhead laughs softly. “I knew she looked familiar. She’s wearing one of my mods.”

  “This signal must be what the visual cortex emits.” I nod at my holo.

  Vanti frowns. “What are you using to read that? I didn’t think my mods were detectable, but if you can see it... I need to rethink my undercover tactics.”

  “It’s a program I wrote myself. I’m not sure anyone would think to scan for that frequency. There’s nothing useful there. Usually.” I swipe my hand across the courtyard, scanning the crowd. “See, nothing. Nothing. Nothing.”

  “There’s something.” Vanti points at another blip on the holo. A tall, round man dressed in white stands near the cakes. “That signal looks exactly like the one on Angie. Why would the baker wear a mod?”

  “Because it isn’t really the baker?” I suggest. “But who would it be?”

  Our eyes meet. At the same time, we both whisper, “Bobby.”

  Thirty-Six

  “Like the rings of Grissom,” the minister intones, “so are these rings symbols of eternity!”

  “Where did you get those mods?” I whisper as we slink down the stairs, trying not to attract any attention. Most of the crowd is focused on Lili and Jie, but Angie is peering our direction, her eyes bright.

  “I have a supplier.” Vanti slides a look in my direction.

  “Is there a way to disrupt them? Other than finding the capsule and pressing it?” I reach the bottom of the stairs and try to melt away into the deserted cloister. Unfortunately, a table blocks my way. I stumble into a chair, and its metal feet grate loudly against the stone floor. “Zark.”

  Vanti pauses in the shadow behind the staircase and glares. She puts a finger to her lips. I raise my hands in a “not my fault” gesture.

  We skirt the tables, staying to the edge of the cloister. As we cross by the lounge, a trio of drunk teens shushes each other. They stare at us, frozen in place, as if we’ll only notice them if they move. “Take some Buzzkill,” I hiss at them. Their eyes dart from me to each other and back to me, but none of them even breathe. I roll my eyes and ignore them.

  We stop behind the pavilion that holds the cake. “If you touch the wearer, you can disrupt the field enough to see the person behind the mod. But you have to touch skin-to-skin. Good solid contact.” She grabs my wrist to demonstrate. “It’s better if your hand is damp.”

  My hands are sweating. “Not a problem. What if it isn’t him?”

  She shrugs. “Ask him out? Can you see him from here?”

  I shake my head. Holding up my holo-ring, I scan again, but the signal doesn’t come through the pavilion. “The grav-lifters on the cake might be interfering.”

  “Okay, you stay here. I’m going to confront him. Quietly.” Vanti reaches into her low-cut neckline for a second. She pulls out a small packet and hands me a capsule. Then her face transforms into an unrecognizable woman. Brown hair, darker skin, brown eyes. Dark hair decorates her upper lip and a large mole pokes out of her chin.

  I bite back a smile, wondering what my own mod looks like. “Very pretty. Will you be able to see through his mod if you’re wearing one of your own?”

  Her face goes blank. “I’m not sure. I guess if it doesn’t work, I’ll turn mine off long enough to check.”

  “Do you want me to help?” I don’t want to go anywhere near Bobby Putin, and I’m nowhere near Vanti’s level of skill, but he’s escaped us before. I want him locked up and out of my life.

  Vanti considers for a moment. It’s so weird to see her expressions cross this unrecognizable face. Finally, she nods. “One on either side. We’ll each grab his wrist. If it’s him, I’ll take him down. I’ve got my tranq ring.” She waves her right hand, the heavy metal ring on her middle finger glinting in the light from the decorations. I know from past experience that it contains a fast-acting sedative and a sharp needle to deliver it. “Ready?” She raises a heavy eyebrow.

  I nod. “Go.”

  We round opposite sides of the pavilion and sidle into the crowd. People glare as I worm my way around them. At the front of the gathering, the minister declares, “I now pronounce you wife and husband. Seal this vow with a kiss.”

  The crowd cheers. I duck under an arm and around a portly man in a tan suit. I look for Vanti’s copper hair then remember she’s in disguise. Hopefully, she’s closing in from the other side. I find the baker, flick my scanner at him to be sure, then slink up behind him. A brunette squirms in on his other side. Vanti.

  Music blares, and people start dancing, cheering, hugging, and singing. I don’t recognize the song, but everyone else in this room does. Except the baker. He stands still. Alone.

  I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and reach out. My hand slides around his wrist, clammy against his warm skin. The man turns, and I get a weird vision of Bobby Putin overlaid by Enzo the baker. I gasp.

  His eyes widen “Annabelle, how nice to see you again.” His usual top-lev accent holds a tinge of surprise.

  “It’s him!” I call out, but my voice is drowned by the music.

  “Gwen!” Bobby barks. Seline appears beside him. “Take care of her.”

  Watson pauses for a second, as if she’s not sure what to do. The second seems to stretch out for hours. Until it’s broken by a missile in green.

  Vanti slams into Watson, taking her to her knees before the peacekeeper realizes what’s going on. “Triana, get away!” Vanti cries out. She yanks her hand away from Gwen’s arm. A tiny bead of blood appears on the woman’s bicep—Vanti used her tranq ring.

  Bobby twists his arm out of my grasp and catches my own wrist in his iron grip. He spins me around in front of him in a gruesome mimic of the dancing all around us. Then he pulls me close with a choke hold around my neck. “Drop the tranq, Agent Fioravanti.”

  Vanti snarls. “Or what? You’ll do something to Sera Morgan in a room full of witnesses? Not even your father could buy you out of that.”

  Bobby’s arm tightens on my throat. Darkness tinges the edges of my vision. I’ve already been poisoned and shot at today. I really don’t need to add oxygen deprivation to the list. The black closes in.

  “Argh!” The arm around my neck tightens then loosens as Bobby swings around to confront another threat. A blonde woman in a midnight-blue dress swings a chair at him, but he jumps back.

  “Angie! Get the avenger boys!” I cry.

  Vanti leaps forward, but Bobby swats her out of the way like a fly. She sails into the crowd of dancers, taking two of them down as she falls. She’s up again before they realize what happened, heading toward us. Wedding guests start noticing the turmoil, turning to watch.

  Bobby’s eyes swing from Vanti to Angie to the back exit. Fire sparks in my stomach—he didn’t look at me. He doesn’t consider me a threat! He’s more worried about ninety-three-year-old Angie than me! How dare he?

  I launch myself at Bobby, slamming my shoulder into his stomach. He folds with a loud “oof” and catapults backwards into the pavilion. I jerk away as his head connects with the largest cake in the center of the floating display. Thrown off its orbit, it slams into three others in a massive collision. Frosting explodes in every direction. The cupcakes, freed from their tethers, fly outward like water drops from a rock dropped into a puddle.

  Guests scream as cake bombs slam into the crowd. Children cheer. Bobby lands flat on his back on the pavilion cushion. The last cake crashes onto his face.

  “Nice work,” Vanti says. She licks a bit of frosting off her finger. “Mmm. Lemon.”

  Thirty-Seven

  “Are you sure you should be eating that?” I ask. “Could be poison.”

  “Not likely,” she says, regretfully wiping her finger on Bobby’s pant leg. “But you’re right—better safe than sorry.” She grabs Bobby’s arm, slapping a wide metal cuff around his wrist. Where did she have that hidden? “Get up,
Putin. You’re under arrest.”

  The pile of cake shifts then falls away. Bobby sits up, his head and upper body plastered in frosting. Splotches of white cover the pavilion and most of the guests standing nearby.

  I wipe a glob of white off my bare arm and look at my dress. A splatter of frosting covers most of my front. I stare at Vanti. Her emerald green dress is completely clean. Not a hint of cake.

  “How did you do that?” I demand, gesturing at her clothing.

  Her lips twitch. “Years of training?”

  “Triana!” O’Neill pushes through the cake-splattered crowd. “What happened?” He does a double take. His mouth hangs open.

  I smile. “We caught Bobby. And killed the cake.” I peek guiltily over my shoulder toward Lili. She’s hidden by the crowd.

  He scoops a glob of frosting off my skirt. “It looks very dead. But tasty.”

  “Don’t! That needs to be tested before anyone eats it.”

  “I don’t think it’s a problem.” He sticks his finger in his mouth and nods toward the pavilion.

  Bobby sits on the edge of the padded platform, his hands secured behind his back. Andron and Ferrigi stand on either side, weapons pointed his direction. Bobby ignores them, licking the frosting off his lips.

  “He wouldn’t be eating it if it were poisoned,” O’Neill says.

  “Are you sure? Maybe he’s taken an antidote. Maybe he’s decided suicide by poison cake is preferable to life in prison!” My voice gets higher with each word.

  Vanti reappears with a boxy device in her hand. Using a serving spoon, she scoops some cake off the pavilion platform and dumps it into a little drawer in the front of the box. The screen lights up then turns green. “It’s safe.”

  “Good thing—we would have had a hard time stopping the kids from eating it.” Around us, a dozen children are dancing in the cake splatters, swiping globs of frosting off the tables and chairs. Most of it gets thrown, but a lot is getting eaten, too.

  Splat! A cupcake slams into my chest. “Sorry!” a little voice calls. The horde of children swirls away. I peel the cake off my dress and sniff it. “Smells good.”

  “Children!” Akiko pushes through the crowd, stopping to stare in horror when she reaches us. “What happened?”

  I duck my head. Akiko already hates me. Ruining her sister’s wedding cake will just make it worse.

  “An uninvited guest destroyed the cake.” O’Neill points at Bobby. “Triana caught him. Don’t worry, we’re pressing charges.”

  Akiko stares at Bobby then looks at me. “Thank you, Triana.” I’m not sure if she’s being sincere or snide. She doesn’t give me a chance to find out but sweeps all the children away. “I’ll keep the guests away from here.”

  “How will she do that?” I ask.

  O’Neill shrugs. “I’ve stopped asking how Akiko gets things done. She has a way.”

  “Hey, speaking of cake.” I nibble on the cupcake. “What happened to Enzo and Seline?”

  “Who?”

  “The baker—the real guy.” My eyes widen. “Or was it Bobby the whole time? Was he at the venue—” My throat tightens.

  “Breathe,” O’Neill whispers, rubbing my back. “He’s right there with multiple weapons pointed at his head. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “Are you sure? Did you check, Vanti? Turn off his mod. I want to see his face. His real face.” I stare at the man sitting amid the cake.

  Vanti holds up a hand. “I’ll check.” She pats Bobby down and removes something from his pocket. “Here’s the mod.” As she steps away from him, the Enzo face morphs into Bobby’s perfectly sculpted features.

  He smiles gently at me. “I’ll always be here for you, Annabelle.”

  I grind my teeth. “No, you won’t. You’ll be in Attica. Locked away in a tiny box, and I will personally make sure you have no access to the outside, no fancy furnishings, no body-doubles.”

  O’Neill snaps into action. “Vanti, take him to the Peacekeeper lockup. Andron and Ferrigi, go with her. I want one of you with eyes on him around the clock until he can be moved back to Attica. No chance for his accomplices to help him escape. And make sure they pick up Gwen—and that they still have al-Petrosian.”

  Vanti flips a little salute at O’Neill and nods to the two men. “Let’s get him downtown. Griz, can we borrow a carriage?”

  “Sure. It’s still in Putin’s warehouse, as far as I know.” He flicks his holo-ring. “Let me recall it.”

  Andron and Ferrigi grab Bobby’s arms and haul him to his feet. They get plastered in frosting in the process, leaving all three men covered in sticky goo. Vanti looks down at her pristine green dress. “Can I take separate transport? Those two can handle him.”

  O’Neill laughs. “Sure. Just keep their carriage in sight.” He flicks a code to her.

  The two men drag Bobby away, managing to get frosting on everything they pass. Vanti follows behind, a weapon in each hand. They disappear into the tunnel leading to the garage. Two cleaning bots trundle out of a hatch nearby.

  “Let’s let the bots take care of the mess, shall we?” He takes my elbow and turns me away from the pavilion. “Do you want to change?”

  “I’m not sure I have another appropriate outfit.”

  “Anything not covered in frosting will work.” O’Neill laughs.

  “I have something,” Akiko says, appearing again. “Come with me.” She takes my other arm and pulls me away from O’Neill. “We’ll be back down in a few minutes.”

  Akiko leads me to a room on the second floor at the back of the house. “Where are you taking me?”

  “This is my old room,” Akiko says as she shuts the door. “Look, I want to apologize for my behavior. Again. I’ve been horrible to you, and you’ve done nothing to deserve that. Let me make it up to you. I know I’m a lot shorter than you, but I have a beautiful outfit that will fit you perfectly.”

  She opens a cupboard and pulls out a length of flowing cloth. “Blas gave me this years ago. His sister helped him pick it out. It’s way too long for me and not a good color. He bought me another one, but he told me to keep this one, too.” She leans in and lowers her voice. “He said it was custom, but I think his sister had it made to her measurements. She’s a lot taller than me.”

  She opens the window shutters as I shimmy out of my cake-covered gown. I love that gold dress when it’s not plastered in vanilla frosting. I hope it survives the cleaning to be worn again. A soft, warm breeze flows through the room, bringing the scent of the flowering vines hanging around her window.

  Akiko throws the fabric over my head and has me turn so she can wrap it around me. The silky stuff slides, cool and smooth, against my skin. The subtle flower pattern shimmers in the light. Akiko pushes me in front of the full-length mirror. The pale flowers complement my skin tone, and the flowing wrap of the dress enhances my figure. My hair has miraculously remained frosting-free.

  “You look—”

  Ka-boom!

  A brilliant flash of light blinds us, and heat rushes through the window. I shove Akiko down, and we crouch on the floor in terror.

  The light subsides, and the heat drains away. I straighten and hurry to the window. The vines outside have been singed to a crisp. A billow of acrid smoke wafts upward. Below, a glowing pile of molten slag softens the plascrete.

  “Vanti!” I cry. We race out of the room.

  “This way,” Akiko cries. She leads me down some back stairs I didn’t know existed. The door at the bottom jams. I throw myself against it, and it flies open. Akiko and I end up in a pile on the garage floor. I scramble to my feet and race for the open vehicle-sized door.

  “Stop!” Vanti flings out her arm, stopping me in my tracks.

  “You’re alive!” I throw my arms around her. She hugs me back for a brief instant then breaks away.

  “Andron and Ferrigi put Putin in there.” The words come out in a whisper.

  “Were they inside?” My voice cracks.

  “No.�
�� She nods to the shadows beside the building. It’s hard to see in the dim light of the melting carriage, but it looks like medics are working on two men lying on the plascrete. “He pulled the door shut before they could get in—I think he was trying to get away. The thing started to move, and then it went up. He must have rigged it to blow.”

  “But it got here without exploding,” I protest.

  “Maybe it was set to go up when passengers were inside.” Her voice is strained.

  “Are you saying he saved their lives?” I ask.

  “It seems hard to believe, doesn’t it?”

  “Could he have snuck out the other side?” Saving anyone at his own expense is completely out of character for Bobby. He had no sense of self-sacrifice.

  “We’ll do a DNA check to be sure, but I saw him get in.” Her head droops.

  I put an arm around her and turn to lead her back inside. From the corner of my eye, I catch movement. The wind whips the melted slag, causing a flare-up. The red light of the fire snags on blonde hair, lifted by the same breeze. “Look! Seline.” I point. “I mean Gwen Watson. I think. How did—”

  Vanti takes off. She seems to fly through the air, crashing into Watson like a battering ram. The two women smash into the thick vine stems at the base of the building. They disappear behind a screen of leaves that somehow survived the explosion. The vines rattle and shake, huge blackened lengths falling from higher up the wall. Piles of ash and scorched plant rain down onto the plascrete.

  The shaking stops. Vanti reappears, dragging Watson with her. Her face and hair have returned to normal, but her white chef’s coat is covered in ash and charcoal. It’s hard to tell in the moonlight, but Vanti’s dress appears unscathed.

  “You did it, didn’t you?” Vanti asks Watson, but her voice is gentle.

  “He deserved it.” Watson spits the words.

  “He did.” Vanti clasps a cuff around Watson’s arm. “It’s still murder.”

  “I don’t care.” Watson glares at me as they pass. “It needed to be done. You should thank me. He would never have left you alone.”