Breakout (33 page)

41

Calm Before the Storm

Dred lifted her drink to toast everyone gathered around the table. Pace had shut down Hidden Rue in celebration, both because of Jael's investment in the club and purchase of the building that would serve as corporate headquarters. Since Jael was a new stockholder, Pace had also invited the dancers to get to know the new silent partner, so it felt like a real party. Loud music streamed from the walls, the clink of glasses mingling with the scrape of cutlery.

“We may be in the suite upstairs longer than expected,” Jael was saying to Pace.

“Oh?” The club owner raised his brows.

Jael explained their plan to renovate the acquisition themselves. Calypso seemed excited by the news. “I can get on board with this. You know I'm great with my hands?”

One of the performers glanced over at her. “Are you now?”

Calypso grinned and got up to dance. With the club empty, there was plenty of space. Dred couldn't help but feel that this was the calm before the storm. While she wanted to celebrate, in her heart, she was waiting for the next explosion. The Quintel Consortium still loomed over Jael, the Ronin mercenary group might retaliate, their own citizenship issues were up in the air, and the silence from Madame Sorush bothered her.
How hard is it to make a decision, yes or no?
She loathed powerful people who got off on jerking others around. Maybe that wasn't what Sorush was doing; she might be looking into Jael but while they waited, Dred hated feeling vulnerable.

Martine elaborated with palpable excitement about her plans to install a state-of-the-art security system. Since she'd specialized in circumventing them, that sounded right up her alley. Meanwhile, Jael was all about business, making plans with Domingo Pace. Dred didn't realize her discontent was obvious until Tam leaned over.

“You'll find your place,” he said.

“That's not . . .”

“Something else?” He paused, thoughtful. “Let me guess. You feel strange. Displaced. He needed you before . . . and now it seems like he doesn't.”

I wouldn't admit it even if it was true.

It was natural for things to change once they left Perdition, but he clearly had more than an inchoate idea of what he wanted to accomplish if they got out. Because she'd learned to fear dreaming, she hadn't allowed herself more than the occasional stolen glimpse of sky or the remembered wonder of luxuries no longer available to her.
Now I have to catch up . . . or risk being left behind.

“I'm fine,” she said, mustering a smile.

Tam surprised her by saying, “I expect the grim foreboding to fade sooner or later. We've been living in the midst of a crisis for so long . . . it's impossible for us to stand down all at once.”

“He seems all right.” She watched Jael from across the table.

“I suspect life has forced him to become more adaptable than most. Set aside your worries for a night, Dred. The sky won't fall on us.” That was such unusual advice, coming from the perennially cautious Tam, that she figured he must be right.

Ronin Group doesn't know where we are. Neither does the Quintel Consortium. It'll take time to track us down, so I might as well cut loose.

The party raged late, and she woke in the morning with no memory of why she was asleep under a table with a strange woman curled up against her. She crawled away, eyes gluey, and found Jael sprawled on a bench, facedown. His fair hair stood on end, and his cheeks were creased from the synth. She stood by him for a few seconds, just smiling, as the others stirred.

“What a night,” Calypso moaned.

Pace clapped his hands. “Everyone up and out. I have a crew coming in to fumigate the place. I need the club open in an hour.”

“We don't have to go home, but we can't stay here?” Trust Martine to manage a quip even as dry heaves wracked her.

Somehow, Dred rounded her group up while Pace dealt with the hungover dancers. She herded them to the guest suite, mostly because they all needed food and a bath before she'd unleash them on the world.
Mary, this is a strange job for the Dread Queen.

Once everyone had eaten, they showed no signs of being in a hurry to clear out. Tam and Jael holed up to talk strategy while Calypso was skimming on the handheld, comparing prices on the supplies they'd need to reno the building, and Martine kept trying to take it because she wanted to check out the latest security developments.

“My knowledge is no longer cutting-edge,” she complained to Calypso. “You're actively sabotaging me right now.”

That word reminded Dred of Silence.
No. Rebestah Saren.

Fortunately, she still had the one they'd found on Perdition. It was even older than Jael's, but it still connected on the bounce. Dred ran a search, scanned her cred stick to pay for the background check, and came up with the information she wanted a few minutes later.

I didn't think it would be that simple.

Quietly, she read,
Rebestah Saren, aged 25, died on Monsanto Station. Parents deceased. Survived by one brother, Duval Saren.
For an additional fee, she could acquire his personal data. Did she want it? Dred hesitated only a few seconds, then she touched her cred stick to the screen again. The bounce code followed, along with his address, date of birth, and other information that she was faintly alarmed to acquire so easily.

There was more privacy in Perdition.

“What are you so focused on?” Jael asked.

“Following the clues Rebestah left us.”

Chagrin and guilt flashed in his blue eyes. “I can't believe I forgot.”

“It's all right. I didn't.” She told him about locating the woman's brother. “I'm wondering if I should send a message.”

“And say what? That she didn't die all those turns ago?”

She sighed. “True. We can't tell him that Monsanto turned her into a madwoman.”

“In this case, love, it's best if we leave the man's scars alone. Our energies are best directed elsewhere.”

“Like . . . where?”

Jael told her.

•   •   •

WITH
the dirt they already had on the Monsanto executives, Jael set Tam to digging.

Soon he had the answers he needed. While the VP had died in a shuttle crush only two turns after the station closed, Administrator Levin had enjoyed a meteoric rise. Now eighty-eight turns and robust with Rejuvenex, he was currently CEO of a luxury travel company with offices on Venice Minor.

“How's this?” Tam asked.

Jael scanned the data. “You were very thorough.”

“That's why you pay me the big bucks,” the other said.

“That reminds me. Have you decided where to invest your credits? I can't write an official indemnity policy for you until you take care of your citizenship. We're fudging the work permits, as is.”

A laugh escaped Tam, and he shook his head. “Never thought I'd hear the Dread Queen's champion talk like that.”

Jael grinned. “Isn't it grand?”

Once Tam left, Jael went looking for Dred. The others had taken temporary lodgings nearby, and he couldn't wait for the materials Calypso had ordered to arrive. But until then, this mission was just as important as anything he might achieve in his lifetime. Dred was studying the forwarded files on her handheld when he found her. She was a serious person, more than he'd realized at first in Perdition. But he liked getting to know this side of her and finding that she wasn't just sardonic humor and a yen for violence.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“About what?”

“Administrator Levin. He turned Rebestah into Silence, and look at him now.” Countless features on the news net showcased his lavish lifestyle.

She watched a few more minutes of garden parties and yachts, glittering galas and extravagance, before saying, “Let's crush him.”

That decided, Jael contacted Madame Sorush because he thought she might benefit from the fall somehow. And if he proved he could be useful, she was more likely to come down favorably as his patron. So he left word with her assistant and waited for a call back. Several hours later, her comm code pinged on the handheld.

He activated the chat. “You must be wondering why I've gotten in touch.”

“People usually wait,” she admitted. “But your message was . . . intriguing.”

Dred made a face on the other side of the unit, but Jael didn't dare glance at her. If he started laughing during the call, it could ruin multiple layers of plans. “I have some life-changing news on Nial Levin. You might find it relevant for a number of reasons.”

“The CEO of Diamond Tours?”

“That's him.”

“Tell me everything,” she ordered.

Tam had done all the legwork, so Jael
knew
Gehenna tourism was suffering in comparison to Venice Minor, so anything she learned about Levin would help boost the economy. If Diamond Tours went down, another travel company could snap up all the lovely tourist credits. Travelers might well choose to come to Gehenna and gamble instead.

Sad as Silence's story was, it didn't take long to summarize it for Madame Sorush, whose expression darkened as she listened until her eyes practically sparked electrical. Without comment, he played the audio that proved what the administrator had done, in conjunction with the vice president, on Monsanto Station so long ago.

“It's proof,” she said in disbelief. “There are tests that can verify it is his voice.”

“This might not hold up legally,” Jael reminded her.

Madame Sorush chuckled. “Dear boy, we're going after him in the court of public opinion. I don't care about prison. With this record, we can turn the entire universe against him. I'll create a sympathetic portrait of the young auditor. His stock will plummet, nobody will want to purchase time-shares or cruise tickets from a monster who built his empire on the blood and bones of an innocent girl.”

“So I take it you're interested in this information?”

“Beam me a copy of the audio and any pertinent information on Rebestah Saren. If this turns out as I hope, I'll back you, Mr. Devos. And if
I
stand behind you, there will be no stumbling blocks to your company's economic growth.” With most people, that line would come across as pure arrogance; somehow, Madame Sorush delivered it with elegant confidence.

“She's impressive,” Dred said, after the other woman hung up.

“There's a reason Pace pointed me in her direction. She's not involved in government, but I wouldn't be surprised if all the major players owed her, one way or another.”

“The power behind the throne, then. Like Tam.” Dred shot him a rueful look.

“That wasn't true at the end.”

“Eh, I'm not hankering to start that nonsense again. I've had enough political jockeying to last me a lifetime.”

By the time they sat down for the third meal of the day, the news was all over the bounce:
Nial Levin's Fall from Grace. Dark Deeds from the Diamond CEO.
Jael wondered privately if this would make a difference to Rebestah.
Probably not,
he guessed. But it made him feel better, and it also brought him one step closer to his endgame.

That night, however, Jael dreamt of blood and knives and a dark figure devouring him bite by bite. That was new. Before, he'd only dreamt of the labs. When he woke in a cold sweat, he rolled over in search of Dred. She wasn't in bed, which might explain the nightmares. Something about her kept the bad things at bay.

She makes me better. Stronger.

He rolled out of bed and searched for her. Not hard since their suite wasn't enormous. As expected, she was sitting near the Kitchen-mate with a steaming mug.

“Can't sleep?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Just thinking of what I want to do next.”

“Citizenship?”

“I'm investing in your company. That's allowed, right?”