“Sorry about that,” she said as she pulled the dress over her head.
“Oh boss, this just isn’t fair. I risk my handsome young neck to help this pretty infidel gal, and I don’t even get to sneak a peek.”
Kris settled the dress around her and began buttoning it up. “Who told you life was fair?”
He eyed her in the rearview. “At least you got good boobs.” Kris failed to stifle a laugh. But then, if most of the women around him had been in those baggies, hers probably were the best he’d gotten a glance at. She finished buttoning up her uniform.
“That’s kind of wrinkled,” the driver said. A glance down, and Kris had to agree. If she ditched her raincoat on her way in the back, her slovenly uniform might very well get nabbed by the hotel’s equivalent of a Top Kick and ordered back home. Problem was, she’d never convince the shrew that her home was the Presidential Suite.
Time to rethink matters.
Their arrival at the elevator station postponed that. Kris found herself looking at a three-digit cab bill and only a few coins in her pocket. The kid laughed as he pushed away her offered credit chit. “Uncle Abu warned me you probably wouldn’t have money for the cab. It’s on him,” he said pulling cash from his pocket. “Here’s your beanstalk fare.”
“I can’t take that,” Kris stammered.
“And I’m not running that card through my cab. Neither one of us needs the notice, and you need to get back up in the sky. We’re Arab, Princess, not stupid. But you’re making me wonder about your people.”
“We’re not stupid,” Kris said, taking the money. “We’re just proud and stubborn.”
“And maybe not used to living on our streets,” the cabby said with a seriousness that belied his youth. “I’ll tell Uncle I got you to the beanstalk safe and sound. You figure you can handle it from here?”
Kris glanced up at the towering elevator. “I’ve gone up enough of these. I should be able to take care of myself.”
17
With a laugh, the kid vanished into traffic.
Kris threw the shawl around her head and half covered her face. She lowered her head like anyone going to a job she hated and waited patiently in line to feed cash into the turnstiles before merging into the herd heading up. Four o’ clock was close enough to a shift change to give her plenty of company. For the half-hour ride, she kept moving, made three trips through the coffee shop, and didn’t spot anything like a tail. She did ID a transit cop busy helping a plumber work a stopped drain in the ladies’ room.
She also came up with a plan that just might get her back to her suite.
Following the herd off the ferry, Kris took an elevator out to Circle One, the huge promenade that was the station’s largest deck. A slide car took her from Stop One up to Stop Twenty-two, a three-minute walk from the Hilton. Kris had Nelly order Jack to meet her in the lobby, Number 3 door.
JUST PASS THE MESSAGE TO HIM. NO TALK. NO REPLY.
DONE.
ANY EXTRA ACTIVITY ON THE POLICE NET?
NO. CORRECTION, YES. IT IS GETTING MORE ACTIVE. ALL SCRAMBLED. GIVE ME TEN MINUTES, AND I CAN READ IT.
I’D NEED TO KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING IN THREE MINUTES, OR IT’S HISTORY. DON’T WORRY. JUST LET ME KNOW IF THERE’S A LOT OF POLICE ACTIVITY CLOSE TO US.
Kris kept her head down and her pace even as she walked by the first door into the Hilton. It was clear. But the long, lonely walk across the lobby to the elevators offered too many chances to notice her and intercept. Kris kept walking.
Three out-of-breath security guards in gray were just coming to a stop at the main entrance to the lobby as Kris walked past. By the time they started looking around, all she presented was her back.
The third entrance’s wide arch led directly to the elevators. Two SureFire Security types were getting themselves comfortable in the doorway when Jack, Klaggath, and three of Kris’s security types burst past them. Kris took a sharp right into their ranks. Jack and the agents did a rapid about-face and surrounded Kris in a comfortable box. They charged back through the grays so fast the guards hardly had time to get their mouths open before Kris was past them. Kris spat out the cheek expanders and stuffed them, along with her scarf, in the pocket of her brown raincoat as Jack took it off her and Klaggath wrapped her in a royal blue one with a large diamond crown pendant on the right lapel.
She was almost to the elevator before running footsteps came up behind her, and a harsh whisper said, “We need to talk to that maid.”
Kris whirled; Jack and Klaggath turned to stand between her and the grays. Another agent summoned an elevator. “What maid?” she demanded in her mother’s most irritated voice.
Both grays, the senior a Sergeant, bumbled into Kris’s team and bounced back. What looked to be a Captain led a contingent from the main door, but they were well off. The two in Kris’s face mumbled something that sounded like “that brunette.”
“We have appointments to keep. When you have something to say, call our embassy,” Kris said regally, turned, and was in the elevator and the doors shut before anyone in gray could recover.
“That was fun,” she laughed.
“That was too damn close,” Jack growled.
“That was something only I could have pulled off,” Kris pointed out.
“And just what have you pulled off?” Klaggath asked.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” Kris said, demurely settling herself on the elevator couch and making sure the raincoat covered her brown uniform. One security man frowned a question at Klaggath. He shook his head firmly, and all of them took to studying the elevator door for the rest of the trip.
Once in, Abby took over, almost dragging Kris into the bathroom and barely giving her time to get out of her dress and body stocking before dunking her in the bath. “Wash your face with this,” she ordered, and Kris’s makeup came off easily.
Kris waited until Nelly announced, “All clear, but I had to zap the four bugs we picked up in the lobby.”
“How’s Penny?” Kris asked.
“Doing as well as you can expect,” Abby said. “Jack, you want to come here. She’ll want to know about that message you got.”
“We got it,” was all Jack said. Kris glanced over, but he was out of sight, so she was, also.
“Have you looked at it?”
“Looked at nothing but it since it came in. Big, bad layout. More guns than they need to arm the ships in dock. Somebody’s expecting to have a lot more merchant ships available real soon.”
“Damn.” Kris sighed, enjoying the warmth of the tub but knowing she had to get out. “Abby, hand me a towel.” The fluffy robe was clean and waiting for her. Jack stayed out of view while she made herself decent.
Damn nice of him.
“Young woman,” Abby said, “you have about fifteen minutes before I want you back in that tub so I can wash your hair and get you presentable for tonight. You are not going to a ball with hair looking like it should be pinned under a greasy wig.”
“Only ’cause that’s where it was today.” Kris sighed and told Nelly to call the Ambassador.
“Yes,” came a moment later.
“Mr. Ambassador. I am in receipt of a very strange message concerning unlicensed weapons construction. Have you by any chance seen anything like that?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “A long message came in not too long ago, full of plant video and the likes. I passed it to my officer for trade negotiations. I haven’t heard back from her. Kris,” his voice now a whisper as if that might reduce its digital distribution, “I am not sure that such material is legal and in Wardhaven’s best interests. If I wasn’t afraid I might be destroying evidence needed to substantiate criminal charges, I would suggest you erase the message entirely.”
“That’s an interesting point I hadn’t considered,” Kris said as if that was her first encounter with such a thought. “Let me know what the embassy’s lawyer thinks. I suspect I have a copy of the same message. If you think it should be destroyed, I certainly would want to know.”
“I’ll keep you informed.”
“Well, my maid is telling me I must do my hair for tonight. Will I see you there?”
“Of course,” he said, ringing off.
NELLY, GET ME SENATOR KRIEF. In a moment, the screen showed a very harried woman.
“Make this quick, I’m on two other lines.”
“Did you get a large message this afternoon?”
“I’m on two other lines with people who might be able to tell me what to make of it.”
“So I assume I won’t see you at tonight’s ball.”
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t miss it. Most of the people I need to buttonhole will be there.
“See you there.”
Two hours later, Kris was about ready to be there. Except, “I guess we’ll have to use your Navy tiara,” Abby said, looking at the bare skeleton of the fancy one Mother had fallen for.
“Well, I could have Nelly use the dumb metal we have around here somewhere to re-create Mother’s concoction,” Kris said.
“I can do that,” Nelly said, voice enthusiastic to try her hand at jewelry making.
“On second thought, let’s go with the Navy tiara,” Kris said, spotting the ten-kilogram slug of Uni-plex in one of her trunks. “It can only change shape three times and . . .” She let the thought trail off unspoken.
“If you insist,” Abby said, sniffing at the simple silver ring the Navy provided.
“I could add some diamonds or rubies to it,” Nelly offered.
“Enough. I’ll wear the Order of the Wounded Lion. That ought to be enough jewelry for any outfit.” Since tonight’s dress was a lovely green, the blue sash and gold medallion went very well with it. Klaggath had a full team and a worried look on his face as they took the slide car to the top.
“Problem?” Jack asked him.
“Not here, but something’s happening. Units are being ordered to new nets, ones I never knew we had. Lots of them. Not many of us on the main net.”
“How close?”
“Midtown. Nothing near the station.
“A riot?”
“Doesn’t sound like it. Princess Kristine, is your computer picking up anything?”
“Nelly?”
“Nothing unusual. There’s a cat up a tree and several fire trucks are trying to catch it. All but two of the news stations are covering the story. So far, the cat’s winning.”
“Dumb animal,” one of the agents snapped.
“I like cats,” another said.
“Slow news night,” Klaggath concluded.
Not if I and a few of my friends have any say.
Kris grinned.
Kris stayed with the slide car as it went past the high exit and started to turn around, taking it to the lower station. She figured to save herself from the long walk down in these heels and avoid having her name shouted by the guy in knee britches. She should have finished the ride.
Her security detail walked right out of the car and into another equally large and no more willing to move aside set of tuxedoed security. While Klaggath and a goon twice his size tried to straighten out the gridlock, Kris stood on toes to see who the poor victim was.
“Hank?”
“Kris? Kris Longknife, is that you?”
“What are you doing here?” Kris called over three guards.
“Not going anywhere at the moment,” Hank Peterwald laughed. Officially Henry Smythe-Peterwald the Thirteenth on a vast array of legal documents, he had the finely sculptured beauty parents with too much money tended to give children these days. Some parents, not Kris’s. He also was heir to a fortune close to if not more than Kris’s, depending on which market was doing better on any given day. Oh, and Auntie Tru was real sure his papa had tried to kill Kris a few times. Father, being Prime Minister, said there was insufficient evidence to present in a court of law. All that aside, Kris had hit it off well with Hank the one time they got together with no parents on the same planet.
Kris waved and started moving some of her blockers aside. Jack growled; one of the failed attempts on Kris’s life occurred the day after she and Hank had a wonderful lunch. Kris was sure Hank had nothing to do with that hit. Well, fairly sure. Anyway, in a social situation, he was nice to be around.
And he couldn’t kill me here in front of God and everybody.
They finally got in touching range, had a good laugh, and both said, “So, what are you doing here?”
“Boys go first,” Kris insisted.
“Dad has this huge pharmacy plant coming on-line. Caley Sandfire insisted it was the biggest ever and just the thing for my latest assignment. Anyway, I got here about five minutes before they closed the port. We tried to back off, but there were a half-dozen lasers backing up a very insistent port official yelling, ‘Nobody goes nowhere,’ so we didn’t.”
“It was about four hours later I tried to book a ship out of here. I’m still trying,” Kris said.
“And they don’t have the net fixed,” he said, shaking his head. “My old man would have kittens and heads if that happened on Greenfeld.” Kris knew the kittens were figurative. The heads were likely to be literal, at least in Grampa Trouble’s opinion.
For social purposes, Kris laughed. “Fixing that net problem would have fixed a lot of my troubles. I wanted to order in some Ebola vaccine and get this quarantine lifted. Hey, that pharm plant of yours, it have anything good for Ebola?”
“Didn’t I check that out, first thing,” Hank said, rolling his eyes at the void above them, which included the stars and the rest of the universe. “They tell me Ebola is a bitch, takes a unique feed product and processing. Only three or four plants do that. Hey, didn’t your grampa goodie-goodie say he was going to stockpile the stuff on every planet?”
“He did,” Kris defended Grandfather Al. “Somebody stole our stock a bit before the outbreak.”
“Lots of interesting coincidences here,” Hank said. “But I must tell you, that is a dazzling dress you’re wearing tonight.”
Kris beamed and did a pirouette. Nearly backless, this dress was slinky with a slit up the right side. “Ought to be fun to dance in.”