He sneered with a contemptuous glare that speared Ospar to his very heart. The Dramok had just enough time to hear Axter say, “Nobek Jol has a lot of questions to answer,” before Ospar sprinted from the room.
He barely made it to the lavatory before puking his guts out.
Chapter 12
Emano had been shaken by the blast, but he hurried into the bathroom facility a minute after Ospar’s desperate run. Caregiver to the core, Emano didn’t pause when he saw Ospar stagger from the toilet. He fetched a cloth from the lavatory’s supply cabinet, wet it with cold water, and pressed it to the Dramok’s brow.
“I’m okay,” Ospar muttered, embarrassed.
“Of course you are. Shock does funny things to a man. Yours was delayed,” Emano declared loyally, still wiping at Ospar’s face. “Rinse out your mouth. I’ll find you a tooth-cleansing tab.”
Ospar noted that his aide trembled. “Someone should be tending you, not the other way around.”
“If I keep busy, I’ll cope. Go on, clean your mouth out. It will make you feel worlds better.”
“If you promise to go straight home once the officers are done with you. Take as much time off as you require. You’ll be paid.”
“Fine, if it convinces you to take care of yourself. I hate nagging at you like an old Imdiko.”
Ospar found the strength to chuckle. Emano had only a couple dozen years on him, far from old. He obeyed his aide, however. He splashed water on his face and chattered foolishly, putting off the moment when he’d have to confront the ugly truths he would rather not. “Tell me your clanmates won’t force you to quit. You can go on leave until this mess is over, if it will ease their minds.”
Emano looked a little better to hear that. “You know, I’m afraid they would insist I resign after today, and I don’t want to. I enjoy working for you, Ospar, overbearing as you can be.”
“I’m beginning to see I’m not the delightful boss I believed I was.” The hurt returned in force as Ospar thought of Jol. The sheer scorn on his expression, watching Ospar as he was arrested…
“I can’t believe he would do such a thing,” the Dramok whispered, staring into the sink as he gripped its edges for support. “How could he, after last night?”
“Easy,” Emano murmured, patting his shoulder. “Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks. I hope not, for Nobek Talu’s sake.”
“Talu.” Ospar drew a deep breath. He wasn’t the only one betrayed. “Ancestors, I need to go back to the office and see what’s happening. Get out of here, Emano. I’ll com you when to come to work again.”
Still unsteady, Ospar returned to his uncles’ office. He passed Axter and Golas along the route and apologized for taking off on them.
“We’re finished for now anyway,” Axter reassured him. “We’ll contact you with any further questions we have and whatever we can pass along from the investigation.”
He and his enforcer made no mention of the humiliating way Ospar had run out. If they guessed the reason behind his hasty exit, they kept it to themselves.
Ospar joined the much smaller group in his uncles’ office. Law enforcement had wrapped up everything, including Jol. Ospar’s bodyguard was nowhere to be seen.
As Ospar entered, Talu was telling Tebrok and Sallid, “I do not know what to say. I trusted him to keep your nephew safe.”
Sallid was quick to answer. “But we haven’t heard Jol’s side of things yet. He’s under suspicion, not convicted. It may all be circumstantial evidence pointing to the wrong man.”
Talu drew himself up, his bearing proud. “Until then, I bear full responsibility to what has happened. All three attempts on the director’s life occurred on my watch. I am to blame. Therefore, I resign as the head of security. If you wish to place guards on me as I remove my personal belongings—” It was Tebrok’s turn to protest. “Don’t be ridiculous, Talu. You’ve been with us almost since the start. Your personal honor has not been impeached.”
Sallid added, “I won’t hear of you resigning.”
Talu was determined. “I appreciate your faith in me, but I cannot continue here with this cloud of suspicion hanging over me and my son. After what has transpired, I cannot command the respect from my men as your head of security.”
Ospar stood, listening to the exchange, trying to come to terms with what had taken place. He couldn’t make sense of any of it. He didn’t understand why Talu was so quick to assign blame to his son. Why wasn’t he coming up with the instinctive excuses a father should be making for his child?
He grasped for a final shred of sanity. “Don’t quit, at least not in shame over doing your best by me. Take a paid leave of absence if you can’t continue on at Itga. Until this is sorted out.”
Tebrok and Sallid sagged with relief. “Yes. A temporary leave of absence. Please consider it,” Sallid begged.
Talu gazed at Ospar. The young Dramok detected a glimmer of respect from the man. He nodded. “Thank you, Director. I accept your kind, generous offer for the short term.”
Ospar felt neither generous nor kind. He was shaken. Hurt hit him anew in the gut. He didn’t want witnesses when he failed to fend it off any longer.
He told Talu, “I’d like to go home. Can you recommend a worthy sentry to replace—to replace the other one?” He was unable to speak Jol’s name.
Talu thought for a moment. “I believe Nobek Dowet would do an excellent job. Shall I summon him?”
“Right away, please.”
* * * *
The new bodyguard Dowet was an unclanned Nobek, but he had a brother who was willing to drop off necessities at Ospar’s place. The three men got there at the same time.
“No introductions,” the stern guard replacing Jol ordered both his elder sibling and Ospar. “I need the director inside as soon as possible, and the house secured.” If his brother took offense, he showed no sign of it. He handed off Dowet’s overnight carrysack and went on his way.
Dowet, whom Ospar had learned was a retired military commander, had a percussion blaster out and ready as they stepped into the greeting room. Ospar locked the door behind him and waited next to it as Dowet swept the house for any suspicious devices. He stood with his head hanging down, staring at his custom-made shoes and telling himself he didn’t care what happened next. He’d never been more tired or dispirited in the wake of Jol’s potential treachery.
It can’t be true. Despite the heartless look the Nobek had given him as he was arrested, Ospar’s soul cried out against what seemed certain on the surface.
Dowet came into the greeting room. “It looks good, and I received a report from the housing security that no one unknown besides myself and my brother have been in the area today.”
“Thank you,” Ospar said, not moving. “I have a guest suite you’re welcome to.”
“I’d rather bed down in here, near the easiest entrance for a would-be intruder to access. I’ll patrol the house every hour. I’ll stay out of your private spaces, such as the sleeping room.”
“As you wish. Do you need food ordered?” Ospar lifted his head, though it felt heavier than a bin of ore.
Dowet, honorably scarred as any aged warrior worth his salt, motioned vaguely at his carryall. “I’ve got it covered.”
“All right. Feel free to eat whatever you find in the kitchen as well. Let me know if you change your mind about the meal or anything else you require.”
“I will.”
Grateful the man seemed determined to stay out of his personal life, Ospar went to his sleeping room, desperate to be alone. He paused in the doorway and groaned.
The pull-up bar was there, reminding him of the fear that Jol had abandoned him—and later the sweet assurance he had not. His mat was rumpled from their slumbering in it. Jol had canceled all cleaning services from the housing group, careful of people he had difficulty keeping tabs on.
Ospar would have sworn he could smell the evidence of their lovemaking, a sweetish-spicy scent mingled with a muskier male aroma. It
brought the pain back, a fresh wallop to his gut. Fortunately, there was nothing remaining in Ospar to sick up, though he had plenty of privacy to do so.
Ospar walked into the space and stopped again, halfway to the mussed bed where Jol had promised that no harm would come to the Dramok. If he had accepted an offer from Urt and the syndicate, then he’d played Ospar like a master. The sincerity in his tone, in his eyes, in his whole being had rung true. If not for that look of derision he’d afforded Ospar at Itga, no amount of evidence would have convinced him Jol had tried to kill him.
Axter had commed Ospar as he’d flown home and confirmed the yanar had originated from Itga’s vigilantly maintained inventory. Security footage had shown Jol going in the warehouse. There was no proof he’d taken the device, yet he’d had no reason to visit that storage facility.
He’d departed Ospar’s office minutes before the attack, using the flimsy excuse that he wanted to check on some information he’d requested. Now that Ospar thought about it, Jol’s actions had been odd. The Nobek’s computer, with his contacts and research tools, had been at hand. What could he have needed to access that he couldn’t find on his computer or by comming someone? Whatever it was, he was stubbornly tightlipped with Axter. “He’s answering none of my questions,” the investigator had sighed over the com link.
Had Jol known the attack was coming? Was it he who had orchestrated it?
“The message telling me to get out—what about that?” Ospar wondered out loud.
If Jol had sent the yanar in, he might have had second thoughts about killing Ospar. Yet that cold, awful glare he’d given the Dramok as he was cuffed, with no sign of the caring, protective Nobek of the night before…
No. Not a portion of it made sense. Especially not how Ospar hurt over the idea that Jol had decided to take the syndicate’s money.
He’d been infatuated with the Nobek, filled with silly, giddy notions that they might end up a couple with time and no more major screw-ups on Ospar’s part. It shouldn’t have been such black agony to his soul that Jol had traded honor for money. There was no such gutted sensation over the knowledge Urt wanted him dead. Or that the syndicate goons had targeted him.
Ospar had gotten emotionally invested in Jol. Somehow, between all their arguments, all the physical altercations, all the bursts of provocation and aggravation, Ospar had allowed real emotions to become involved.
I should be angry by now. I should be furious, considering going to the enforcement agency, insisting they let me beat the fuck out of the bastard.
It would be good to feel anger instead of this horrific hurt that poisoned his guts. Yet the hurt was all Ospar had. There was no room for anything else except that sick, burning feeling eating him up on the inside.
He turned his back on the sleeping mat. He’d left it that morning sure that the world was, at its heart, good. He went to the seating area he hadn’t used in forever and dropped on a soft cushion that didn’t smell of the Nobek who’d made him feel that anything was possible. That a future Ospar hadn’t considered seriously might be waiting for him, in which he wouldn’t return home to a lonely existence at the end of the day.
Ospar rested his head in his hands. Had he been more than infatuated with Jol? Had he perhaps experienced the beginnings of love? Had he surrendered a piece of himself to a man who might bear enough of a grudge that Ospar’s life was forfeit?
I’m not going to let anyone harm you.
Ever.
“There has to be an explanation. This must be a misunderstanding. Please, Jol. Tell me you meant what you said last night.”
* * * *
Jol sat quietly in an interrogation room at the local police precinct. His wrists and ankles were cuffed to what he believed must be Kalquor’s most uncomfortable chair. No doubt it was part of the efforts to get him to confess to working with the syndicate. To admit he’d tried to kill Ospar.
He’d been sitting alone at a long, metallic table in the featureless area for the last hour, following two or three nonstop hours of questioning. He was exhausted as well as uncomfortable. However, he was sure he hadn’t shown any of his distress. Even now, with no one in the space to badger him with questions, accusations, and threats, he sat still as a statue. There had to be surveillance. Whoever was tasked with keeping their eye on him must have been bored to death. Jol kept his breaths deep and even, staying calm for the next round when Investigator Axter and Enforcer Golas would resume trying to break him.
It would have been nice if Ospar didn’t keep popping up in his mind’s eye, trying to distract him from staying cool. Jol wondered who Talu had assigned to watch over the Dramok—and how weak that guard was. Jol knew plenty about the other members of Itga’s security. He was familiar with their strengths along with their limitations. The Nobek deliberated over how easy it would be to exploit the unique flaws of each man.
The door to the room opened soundlessly, admitting Axter and Golas. Jol and the other Nobeks eyed each other for the space of several seconds. While Jol felt a certain respect for the older men, he suspected the officers experienced none of the same for him. They’d made plain their low opinion of Jol. If his refusal to answer questions resulted in them stepping up to physical methods, they would be fine with that.
The syndicate had a large part of the police force in their deep pockets. It had been Jol’s luck that Axter and Golas showed no sign of being bought and paid for. Honest officers. That they’d been assigned to the case showed how certain Syodab was that it could remove Ospar without trouble.
Overly confident. Or does the syndicate have an ace up their sleeve, something that keeps them from extending their resources when they don’t have to?
Jol considered it an interesting question, one he was eager to have the answer to.
After failing to intimidate Jol into baring his soul, Axter scowled and darted a glance to Golas.The quiet enforcer walked over to Jol. His visage creased in a warning snarl. “Don’t move until I tell you to. Otherwise, I can’t say where the body parts will end up.”
Jol nodded in acknowledgement. He turned his head away, making the gesture so Golas would be assured he would not attack.
He was startled when Golas released the hover cuffs, freeing his wrists and then his ankles. He kept still, however, making no movement to antagonize the other Nobek. Moments later, the enforcer stepped back. Jol regarded the pair. They stood side by side as they watched him.
Their countenances were stony, but he could sense their frustration. When Axter spoke, he understood why.
“We’ve been ordered to release you. We will accompany you to the intake desk where you will collect your belongings that were confiscated. You’re free to go.”
Though Jol couldn’t believe his ears, he refrained from commenting on the stunning announcement. He stood and waited for their signal to follow them out, his expression betraying nothing.
He found a well-dressed Dramok waiting for him at the intake desk where he’d been processed, his picture taken, and biometrics recorded. The Dramok smirked at Axter and Golas before offering Jol a perfunctory bow. “Nobek Jol? I’m Dramok Adoga, your legal representative.”
Jol looked him over. Expensive hairstyling, custom outfit, fine shoes. Adoga was paid handsomely for his services, apparently. Services Jol had not requested.
Talu sure as hell wouldn’t have sent a lawyer to pull his ass out of this fire. Not that he or the rest of Jol’s parent clan could have afforded an attorney who looked as affluent as Adoga did.
Ospar? No, not possible. That last despairing look his employer had shot him before switching to a sickly shade of olive green would have turned to red-faced fury by now. Jol was certain that Ospar would prefer to see him roast over a bonfire.
Axter moved behind the desk to pull out a small bin. It was the same bin Jol had dropped his utility belt in, with his personal com, handheld, and other items. Everything had been pulled out of the pouches, but it was all there. Jol was positive they’d downloaded
all the data on the devices into their criminal system for investigation.
Axter pushed a records identifier towards him. “If I’ve given all your belongings to you, confirm by placing your thumb on the ID pad.”
Jol didn’t mention the man’s controlled voice, with an ocean of anger seething beneath it. More than ever, he was certain Axter was a clean officer, not a paid stooge. He’d had more than enough evidence to hold Jol on. To question him until Kalquor’s sun went nova in a billion years or so.
Someone over his head had forced Axter to release him. Someone who lacked the officer’s upstanding morals. Jol could almost feel sorry for the poor son of a bitch.
Jol signed off on his belongings, tucked all the items where they belonged, and followed Adoga to the shuttle bay. “I don’t suppose I can beg a ride?” he said in a tone that suggested he didn’t care about the answer. He had the idea he was wanted somewhere, however.
The lawyer nodded towards a top-of-the-line shuttle several spots away. “That is waiting to take you home.” With that, Adoga walked to another high-end craft, climbed in, and shut the access hatch.
Jol considered the vessel he was supposed to board. After a few moments, he went to the open entrance and stepped inside.
The cockpit was closed off, but there were three men waiting for him in the cabin. Urt and the two hardass syndicate Nobeks Lano and Picona offered slight bows. He returned the favor.
Urt beamed at him, indicating he should join him at the table with bench seating. “It’s good to speak with you again, Nobek Jol. I trust the authorities weren’t too rough on you?”
“Not rough at all. Perfect gentlemen.” He sat across from Urt while surreptitiously counting the weapons he spied on the other Nobeks. “They had me dead to rights on a few things too, so I’m surprised to have been treated as gently as I was. Your lawyer is very adept to have pulled me out before the interrogation became any more intense.”
“Adoga is quite accomplished, but it pays to have friends in high places too. The kinds of friends who can sign a release order that even a dedicated and respectable police investigator can’t refute.”
Clan and Conscience Page 14