Meet the Family

by Pam Uphoff

The ambassador climbed into the limo.

  Updo looked at Rael as she trotted down the steps and his lips drew back in a snarl. “You are going to regret this. You have no idea who you have crossed.” He turned and slid into the back of the limo.

  “Dear One, I’m quaking in my boots.” Rael sidestepped the chauffeur and grabbed the front door handle. It clicked and opened for her.

  The chauffeur spun, frowning.

  Rael reached and hit the lockdown button, stepped back to shove the back door closed as the chauffeur reached for her. She dodged the chauffeur, backing and eyeing him.

  “Your boss is going home to explain his actions.”

  Updo pounded on the back window.

  “Kill her, dammit. Shoot her!” His voice was faint through the bulletproof glass.

  The chauffeur glanced at the ambassador who gave a stiff nod.

  Too late. Rael was already through both his physical and mental shields, and as his gun cleared the holster, he sagged, shaking his head, fighting the sleep spell she threw.

  Rael reached and took the gun away, grabbed him by the lapels and slung him up against the car, shoved him into the front seat. Hit him with a harder sleep spell and lifted his legs into the limo. Clicked his seat harness, and closed the door.

  The onrushing guards slowed, Easterly and Janic at the front of another dozen.

  Rael giggled. “Tell Xen to take good care of my horse, and that if I can’t come back, I’ll see him on Embassy in a few weeks.” She gave them a little finger wave and bounced around to the driver’s still open door.

  She caught Easterly’s rumble. “That woman’s insane.”

  Rael was still grinning as she drove away, heading for the gate back to Embassy.

  Chapter Ten

  Home Again

  Waiting in line for the gate from Embassy to One World, Updo pulled a knife and tried to kill the ambassador. She hit them both with a spell.

  With all of her passengers sound asleep, she sent a brief note to Urfa, about returning with an ambassador and the aide who attempted to control, and failing in that, attempted to kill King Leano. And a recommendation for warrants for three hostile truth matches.

  By the time she’d gotten the limo into the Gate City traffic control system it was late afternoon. She requested expedited routing to the gate to Paris. She had her longer report firmly in her head and started typing.

  She had the whole report . . . with a brief interruption to drive through the corridor to nighttime Paris, then into the corridor to the central district . . . done, and received an order from Urfa to bring her prisoners to the back door of Government House, and sent the report.

  ***

  She didn’t even have time to find a uniform. Urfa, as usual, had moved fast. Coming in right behind her, Interior Director Ajki. A third car disgorged Exterior Director Izzo and . . . her brother-in-law?

  “Ox? What?”

  “You’ve been a bit busy lately. I, One help me, have been coordinating the merging of Native Police Departments with ours.”

  Izzo swapped grins with Ajki. “We argued over which directorate ought to run it, and finally agreed on a temporary position under XT. Give us two years and we’ll be fighting over who gets to keep him.”

  “You don’t need a good cop.” Ajki grinned. “I do.”

  Rael could feel her eyebrows rising. “And now they’re going to throw you into this? Poor man.”

  “Rael!” A call from Ohhe. “What is this?”

  “The Chain Spell. The effect is sort of like methelformaline, but I can take it off in seconds. Search them both, check for suicide pills and termination implants. Especially in the young one.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Rael led Izzo and Ox into the interrogation room. Just a round table with eight chairs for a major truth match. And the mirrored windows for the observers. The President was there, and he had the Prime Councilor and . . . Ambassador Never! Plus two senior priests.

  Urfa hustled in. “Good job, Rael. Shall we start with the hitman for his bit, check the chauffeur, and then see if the Ambassador knows anything?”

  Rael nodded, and they sorted themselves out. The two priests, the accused, Rael, Ox, and a late arriving fellow in a business suit who was introduced by the Prime Councilor as “Peeve, a security analyst of mine.” Izzo and Ajki made up the necessary eight. The watchers stepped through the door to the observation room.

  Updo was led, wobbling into the room. Rael stepped up and removed the lingering shreds of the sleep spell. He jerked fully awake, paled as he looked around the room, flushed as his gaze returned to her. “You traitorous Bitch!”

  She reached a hand closer and broke the Chain.

  An explosion of spells.

  All contained by the guards.

  The two priests swapped glances, and took the seats on either side of the chair with restraints. The guards wrestled him into the seat and strapped him in.

  As the arresting officer, Rael presented the warrant. Got cursed. Shrugged and took her seat.

  The arrogant little weasel was even worse inside. A nasty sense of a twist behind his inner hard held shields. Bits leaked through, as the priests worked on him.

  “Only my third job! How could a stupid giggling bitch ruin My Plans!”

  Rael giggled, and the explosion of hatred and bile got the priests in a bit further.

  “Who ordered you to influence the king?” got a squirming evasion, but nothing behind it.

  He guesses, but does not know.

  “What was that compulsion spell supposed to make King Leano do?”

  Mental squirming. And through gritted teeth, “Kill Ambassador Ozma.”

  Rael blinked. “Why?”

  A mental shrug.

  “Who delivered the orders?” A flash of a man’s face, body form, movement. A sealed envelope, a well-manicured hand. Soft. An office worker who worked out in the gym occasionally.

  Blind errand runner. High probability.

  “The warrant only covers this incident.” Ox sounded exasperated.

  Yep. We’ll have to dig the old fashioned way to find out what his first two “jobs” were. And I’m beginning to wonder if he kills people himself, or mentally compels others to do the wetwork.

  More digging came up with nothing more. So they moved forward. The envelope contained electronic documents, his assignment to the delegation. He gave them a full blast of his frustration at failing to get close enough to the king. Then the new opportunity, and his plans to use Rael to finally get close enough . . . Another explosion of anger as she turned him down and disappeared.

  And reappeared right where he wanted her—without him!

  Hustling the ambassador.

  The lunch attack from his point of view. With more temper tantrums.

  The shock when he realized that Rael’s presidential level implanted ID gave her access to the car and its security systems.

  The realization that Rael had trapped them inside the limo.

  His order to the chauffeur to kill Rael.

  His anger, thinking, wondering what the ambassador’s part was in all this. How much did he know? Did he know the man who’d hired Updo? Or was he the employer!

  His explosion of rage, and grabbing the ceramic knife in his boot to kill the man . . . hit with a sleep spell . . .

  The priests released him, and he cursed them, Rael, the president, the Modernists, the War Party, the Prime Councilor . . .

  The guards took him away.

  “Kind of forgot he was planning to kill the man second hand . . .” Rael shook her head. “We’ve got some screws loose here, I think.”

  Ox grunted. “You don’t get a lot of logic from a sociopath, once they’re caught. Just explosions of fury and . . . a handy target to blame his failure on.”

  The chauffeur knew nothing. He just drove and followed orders. “Updo ordered me to kill the woman. I looked to the ambassador and he nodded.”

  Ambassador Ozma made a brief statement about g
etting orders to expedite Updo’s familiarization with the Native Government. “It was from the Ministry. Not specifically signed, it was no big deal. I thought he had important connections, so I took him along whenever I went anywhere. I didn’t think it was . . . important.”

  “Why tell the chauffeur to kill Rael?”

  “She dared to arrest me! Drag me home to the President? I only answer to the Council.”

  They sent him off and adjourned to the president’s conference room.

  ***

  Rael eyed the Ministry fellow. “Peeve, is it?”

  “Double u, pee, vee, double u. My parents meant well.”

  “You recognized the errand runner, didn’t you?”

  “Not by name, he’s a low level man in the Diplomatic bureaucracy. I’ll find him.”

  “Quickly.” Rael nodded. “At this level, unfortunate accidents happen with regularity.”

  Scar joined them. “They’re all three locked up.” He looked her up and down, and bit his lip, probably to stop himself from laughing.

  “I think my luggage is still on Comet Fall. I’ll get around to finding a uniform . . . real soon now. Let’s take a look at some pictures and see if we can spot the Errand Runner. I’d like to get him under wraps before the news gets around. Might save his life.”

  They hauled Peeve into the Blackhorse Workroom and started looking at Ministry employee pictures. “Diplomacy’s in the Green building, isn’t it? Let’s check there first.”

  Scar tapped away at another comp. “There’s two other ministries with offices in there. Here’s their personnel assigned there . . .”

  Rael shifted over to watch over his shoulder as he clicked through. “Stop, Peeve?”

  The man leaned . . . “Yeah, that’s who I thought it was. Address?”

  ***

  Cheap old apartment in a bad part of town. Close enough to Rael’s house that she thought wistfully about a detour for a change of clothes as she gathered her skirts and trotted up three flights of stairs.

  Knocked. Looked mentally for an occupant . . . weak mental distress . . . low down?

  Rael sliced the side of the door beside the three locks and kicked the door in.

  Onni Clostuone lay back a few feet from the door on his back, a knife between his ribs. Breathing in small gasps, lips blue.

  “Shit!” Rael patted her non-existent pockets. “Scar do you carry?”

  He pulled out both the standard stun gun of the Guards and a slug thrower.

  “Arg! No, I meant the joy juice . . . Oh hell! God of Spies! I’ve got a stupid blind errand runner who needs help fast!” She threw her hands up in pure frustration. “Dammit the man’s probably in a bloody speed bubble!”

  Then the magic flooded the ratty little room and Xen staggered out of nowhere.

  Wearing a tuxedo with sparkles on the lapels, a head full of hair, and no burn scars.

  “Old Gods I hate being pulled through multiple gates.” He flashed a grin her direction as he dropped to his knees beside Onni. “Hmm, nicked the artery. Good thing he left the knife in the wound. It slowed the bleeding. Let me chase the blood back where it belongs, then . . .”

  He reached and pulled the blade. “Cheap metal. Either unprofessional or a deliberate tosser.” The wounds sealed up, and Xen pulled a flask out of nowhere and dripped some in his patient’s mouth.

  Onni choked and blinked, swallowed.

  Xen stood and frowned at her. “Damn. Wrong clothes. I am dreaming. Oh well.” He slipped a hand behind her neck and kissed her.

  Stepped back and disappeared.

  “Holy. One.” Peeve sounded faint.

  Rael patted his arm kindly. “Comet Fall Gods. It’s what they have instead of the One.”

  Her turn to kneel. “Onni? Can you hear me?”

  He blinked, focused. Blinked. “You’re Rael . . . am I dead, yet? I knew to not pull it out, but I didn’t have my phone . . . Why? I took the envelope, didn’t peek or even feel it.”

  “Who?”

  “Agatha. I took his envelope . . . I don’t know anything, to need to be cleaned up . . .”

  Peeve leaned in. “Do you mean Senior Admin Agta?”

  “Yeah . . . he and my dad are old college buddies . . . Why am I not dead?”

  “Because he’s not very good at killing people.” Rael frowned. “We could send you to the hospital, but I’d rather you were someplace a lot less accessible. Scar, get us another car, a stretcher and a some big strong men.”

  “Peeve? We need the Senior Admin’s address.”

  Peeve tapped away. “Got it. But . . . He’s not War Party. He’s an Isolationist. What the hell?”

  Rael nodded. “And in a war, the first thing Disco would do is isolate us.”

  ***

  They pulled over and let an ambulance pass. Exchanged glances. “Agatha’s” house number was fifth down the street. Lit up, the front door wide open, people milling about a woman in tears.

  “Scar, drop us here, follow the ambulance and send us another car.” Rael bailed out and hustled up to the crowd. “What happened?”

  She flung the question out to the whole group, but it was the woman who answered.

  “He just choked, couldn’t breathe . . .” a flood of tears.

  An old man frowned at her dress, but his gaze rose and his eyes widened as he recognized her. “I hit the emergency button, then tried everything . . . My son-in-law . . .”

  Rael bit her lip. Senior Admin is borderline . . . “Did he have a Princess?”

  Heads jerked around and stared at her in silence.

  The woman nodded. Her voice was an appalled whisper. “She dropped off some papers as we were sitting down to dinner. Aggie worked late and I held dinner . . . She doesn’t live here . . .”

  “How close was she to him?”

  “She walked right by him and put the folder on the credenza . . .” The old man paled.

  Rael stepped back and started tapping a number into her comm.

  “You’re a Princess.” Peeve swallowed. “What poison . . .”

  Rael shook her head. “I’m twenty years out of date and never was good with the poisons . . . Bunny? What poisons cause choking, and what antidotes . . .”

  “Histamine Trigger, and On Fire. Standard anti-allergy will deal with the first, there’s nothing for On Fire . . . in fact the standard injectable antihistamines trigger a secondary round of inflammation.”

  “Thank you.” Rael clicked off, feeling a bit faint herself.

  To recommend or dis-recommend antihistamines?

  She tapped in Scar’s number.

  “I’m just entering the . . . emergency . . . damn. He’s dead.”

  “Damn.” Rael lowered the phone.

  The wife, widow, read the news on Rael’s face, and her father pulled her into his arms.

  “Peeve. We need to contact everyone who knew him, especially the Isolationists among them, and tell them that if they were conspiring to start a war with Comet Fall to lock themselves in their rooms and not let anyone in until a Black Horse Guard shows up to escort them somewhere safe.”

  Another black car slid up to them. Uxmo half-stepped out the door. “Too late?”

  “Yeah.” Rael stalked back to the car. “What’s closest? My house or the barracks?”

  “House.” Ux backed the car out to the road. “Although I agree with Scar. You’re very impressive in a blood-soaked old-fashioned dress.”

  “Yeah.” Rael tapped Urfa’s number. “Got the blind errand runner safe? Looks like the cut-out just died—possible princess hit.”

  “Oh . . . So the One’s pissed and not even being very subtle?”

  Rael gazed out the car window. Thinking. “The errand runner was probably clean up on the conspirator’s part. The unexpected is that the cut-out, Senior Admin Agta, is an Isolationist. Was.”

  “Well . . . that’s a change, unless he’s a War Party mole,” Urfa growled.

  “Yes. Although getting Disco to cut us off would
pretty much satisfy the Isolationist’s fondest wishes.” And not what the One wants. But they usually either stop things beforehand or accept the fait accompli.

  “Indeed. We need to find the rest of the group and warn them . . .”

  “Yeah. And apart from blind calling everyone, how do we warn the right people?”

  Urfa snorted. “I’ll dump it on the Prime Minister. He’s still right here.”

  ***

  Once she was in a suit—businesslike but loose fitting so she could fight in it—Rael pulled Ux and Peeve away from their tour of the Comet Fall style renovation.

  Peeve was grinning. “The best the Minister could do was send a blanket message to everyone senior grade and above. ‘If you had anything to do with the attempt to foment a war with Comet Fall, lock yourself in somewhere and call for a safe escort before your princess kills you.’ Yeah, laugh. But I’ll bet three quarters of the guilty will think it’s just a stupid ploy to get them to confess.”

  Rael sighed. “Yeah. Well . . . I think we’ve run out of things to do. I’m going to go sit in the situation room and see if anyone actually yells for help.”

  She bit her lip. “And maybe look for some recent accidental deaths of Isolationists.”

  Peeve stared at her. “There was a subminister who died in a car crash a month ago . . .”

  “Oh.” Rael winced. “I wonder if he was the principal, and the One tried to stop him before anything started. But too late, and the hit man was already in play. Or not.”

  Ux tossed a glance over the back seat. “If the cut-out did his job, we’ll never know for sure.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Are We Done Yet?

  “So, we’re standing at one car crash fatality, a month ago, of the possible principal, who unknown to almost everyone had already started things in motion. One unexplained anaphylactic shock fatality, of the probable cut-out who had just knifed the blind errand runner, trying to cover his tracks when news of the arrest of the hit man leaked. Followed by one fatal heart attack, one dehydration after an intestinal bug which was caught in time . . . and six abrupt resignations.” Rael sat back and shrugged. “Any of whom may or may not be involved. People do have car crashes and heart attacks, after all.”