Hellhole Inferno (10 page)

Scattered on the tile terrace lay the mangled remnants of an omelet with spicy peppers and rich marubi sauce. It was normally one of the Diadem's favorite dishes, but she had discarded it in dramatic fashion. The servant stooped to clean up the mess, holding a napkin to his bloody nose as he stammered an apology. “I gave the chef your explicit instructions, Eminence. He seems to have forgotten.”

In response, she hurled a ceramic teapot at him, striking him on the forehead and leaving a gash. The teapot exploded on the tiles, spraying its hot contents like a bloodstain. The blow stunned the man, causing him to drop the food he had been cleaning up. He looked at the old woman in imploring surrender, desperate to please her but having no idea how to do so. He seemed unable to gather his thoughts or organize his movements. Blood dripped unattended from his forehead and nose.

“Get out, before I order your execution.”

The man fled.

Ishop stepped calmly onto the terrace. “Such a pity. Was that our pot of tea?”

Michella fumed, but his presence always seemed to calm her. “Not everyone is as reliable as you, dear Ishop. I wish I had ten of you.”

“You will have to make do with only me, Eminence.”
If there were ten of me, all of them would be plotting your demise … and one of them would have succeeded by now.
He turned to command the hesitant butler at the terrace doorway. “Send someone to clean up this mess, and have a pot of afternoon tea brought to us, along with little sandwiches and cookies. We have business to discuss.”

“Yes, sir,” the butler said, then turned to the Diadem. “Shall I instruct the chef to prepare another meal, Eminence?”

“I'm too upset to eat now, but notify him of my extreme displeasure and of the consequences should he ignore my instructions again.”

The butler hurried away, leaving the two of them alone.

Ishop took a seat across from Michella. He could have picked up one of the sharp fragments of the shattered ceramic teapot and sawed through her leathery neck. But he dismissed the idea. Too gory, and too slow.

Leafy potted ferns and planter boxes full of bright flowers stood around the perimeter of the terrace, and from this height the diners had a pleasant view of the palace gardens. Maybe he could lure her close to the edge and give her a little nudge.

Interrupting his fanciful thoughts, another manservant appeared like a nervous rabbit, hopping from mess to mess, cleaning up the debris in efficient silence. The tea and hors d'oeuvres arrived just as the servant was finishing.

When they finally had privacy again, Michella looked at Ishop. “I need you to search for information. Commodore Hallholme is planning our military operation, but Lord Riomini has been quite remiss about keeping me in the loop. Has there been word from Administrator Reming on Tehila yet? When is he planning his purge so our ships can have unimpeded access to the Deep Zone? I am anxious for this to be over.”

For his own purposes, Ishop had already been spying on communications, using the Diadem's authority when necessary. “I have monitored stringline traffic and saw no record of any message drones or small ships coming from the Tehila route. The silence is disturbing. What is Reming waiting for?”

Michella sipped her tea. “Before we send our Constellation forces out there, we need to make certain General Adolphus hasn't spread his filthy alien contamination around the Deep Zone. I would hate to learn that Tehila is infested. Then we'd have to sterilize the whole planet before we could move onward!” She made a disgusted sound. “Another waste.”

“Don't forget how those powerful aliens nearly wrecked the Commodore's fleet with their mysterious powers. We don't know yet if the new warship shielding will be effective against that kind of attack.”

Michella frowned. “I am assured by some of our best military minds that the new precautions will work, because they
must
work.” She seemed confident, or perhaps she just wanted to believe that her forces would finally succeed, despite past failures. She had refused to give the Black Lord any opportunity to study the only physical specimens they had of the aliens, which might have given the weapons engineers additional information; she absolutely insisted that the multiple layers of quarantine never be disturbed.

“Those hideous aliens already damaged our stringline hub, Ishop. We can't just sit here and wait for them to overwhelm the Crown Jewels. We have to go on the offensive, don't we? We have to keep probing, trying to find their weaknesses.”

“Yes,” he said with a hard smile. “We already know there are cracks in the General's supposedly unified rebellion. Tehila is the prime example, but we know of unrest on Hossetea as well. And there may be other hot spots.”

“Hossetea? Where is that? Who ever heard of Hossetea?”

“You used to rule it, Eminence. It is one of the fifty-four Deep Zone worlds.”

“And I will rule it again, when we put an end to this nonsense.” Despite her insistence that she wasn't hungry, Michella ate several of the small sandwiches. Ishop just sipped strong black tea on the terrace, and when he didn't answer, she pressed, “Don't you agree?”

“Of course, Eminence.”

She grew more cordial, as if she'd already forgotten the debacle with the servants. “Are you comfortable in your new apartment? Is there enough room for you and your pretty little assistant?” She seemed to be teasing him.

“My assistant is currently away on business, and I have been too busy to go back to the apartment.” He smiled stiffly. Laderna had already departed on her secret mission to Sandusky, to find and kill the Diadem's hidden sister. “You know as well as I do, she isn't all that pretty.”

“As long as you appreciate the gesture I made. It is my reward to you for your fine service.”

Ishop hated that apartment, loathed this withered scab of a woman. He felt like squeezing his fingers around the Diadem's neck until she stopped breathing. Thanks to Laderna, Haveeda Duchenet would soon be dead. That would not give him the same joy as murdering the vile Michella … but it was a step in the right direction.

“You could even be in line for larger rewards, if things go well for you.” The Diadem's tone was either tempting or taunting. “You mentioned wanting a planet of your own?”

Surprised, he looked across the table at her. “You've changed your mind, Eminence? As I mentioned before, Enva Tazaar's former planet would be perfect, and I promise not to disappoint you—”

When Michella laughed, the cruel sound cut through him. “Don't be silly! Orsini is too important, but planet Hallholme is a possibility, if anything's left after we're through with it. Once General Adolphus is crushed, I might find a way to give that world to you as a reward, so you can impose my will.”

“Hellhole?” He heard an edge of anger in his own voice, tried to calm himself. “Eminence, I appreciate your generosity, but I am more suited to living in the Crown Jewels than in the Deep Zone.” A slow death for her … yes, it would be more satisfying.

She sipped her tea and smiled, not seeming to realize how much he detested the very sight of her. “That's all right, dear Ishop. I'd rather have you here with me anyway.”

 

13

In performing services for her boss and lover, Laderna had traveled extensively, though few people ever noticed her movements. She was unobtrusive, intentionally so, and curious. She had gone to various Crown Jewel planets where particular nobles lived. No one saw her arrive or leave … but when she was done, the target was no longer alive.

The “List,” as she and Ishop called it, had originally contained the names of twelve noble families—powerful families who had disgraced and destroyed the respected Osheer house centuries ago, then left them to wallow in obscurity afterward. When Laderna discovered the truth about his heritage, how his descendants had hidden or forgotten their past, Ishop had insisted on an appropriate form of revenge. Together, they had selected a representative from each family to die. Just to be fair.

Of course, the descendants had nothing personally to do with the ancient crime against Ishop's family, but the punishment was still easy to rationalize because the modern representatives of those twelve families had benefited from the ignoble acts of their predecessors. It was only appropriate for them to pay a price.

Together, Ishop and Laderna had chosen the ones most deserving to die, or easiest to kill—and the two of them had made a game of going methodically through the names, taking turns or working together. Only the name of Duchenet remained.

Now, as she stood at a window in a business hotel on Sandusky, Laderna smiled with anticipation. The streets of the capital city of Zensan bustled with efficient activity, commerce, research, secrecy; though it had a small population, Sandusky was still one of the core Crown Jewel worlds, run well by the Zenns, a noble family that made a great deal of money selling biological products developed in their advanced laboratories.

Having checked into the hotel several days ago under an assumed name and cleverly forged documents, Laderna had observed activities in Zensan and the surrounding countryside, particularly noting the isolated research complexes. She inquired, ostensibly on behalf of her “fiancé,” about working at one of the Zenn laboratories.

In preparation, digging deeper, she had learned details about Michella Duchenet. Her brother Jamos had been found dead (the matter muddied and covered up), and Haveeda had suffered psychological problems before disappearing decades ago. Laderna had her own suspicions about Michella's murderous personality, even at an early age, and that her sister had been pressed into silence. Extreme silence. She'd vanished without a trace.

But Laderna would find her. And kill her … a pathetic representative of the last family name on the list. It was the victory she needed, and she wasn't convinced Michella would even be disappointed about it.

As she performed her quiet investigations on Sandusky, Laderna did not risk bringing up the name of Haveeda or Duchenet. She baited a man in a highbrow cocktail bar by asking him if any famous people lived around there. He'd rattled off the names of eminent biological researchers, as well as nobles. Then, while nursing a drink, he'd added, “Of course, some say the Diadem's sister lives on Sandusky as well.”

Laderna controlled her excitement. “I suppose she's in one of those mansions on Fairhaven Hill, with panoramic views of the city and the mountains.”

“No one's seen her in years.” He snorted. “I hear she's in a sanitarium just outside of town.”

In ensuing days, Laderna had tracked down four sanitariums on Sandusky. One of them, the Cove Institute, specialized in the discreet institutionalization of members from the wealthiest families, keeping them out of the public eye so they could cause no further embarrassment. The managers of the sanitarium ran the facility like a high-security bank, refusing to reveal who their clients were. Laderna made a visit of her own, by now with a fully developed story.

The Cove Institute was an elegant old structure built of rare green marble that reminded Laderna of the facets of an unusual jewel. The building was six stories tall and expansive, with four wings extending from a central core. The entrance featured immense white columns and the statues of famous Sanduskan scientists in heroic poses.

In the echoing entrance hall, Laderna gave her false name and offered the story that she and her fiancé were considering a move to Sandusky. Then she lowered her voice and added that his wealthy family was concerned about the well-being of a troublesome, mentally ill uncle. At the mention of wealth, the clerk sent for what she called an “adviser” to consult with Laderna.

Minutes later, a pink-cheeked man in a spotless white lab coat identified himself as Johan Zenn. Assuming he was a member of the planet's ruling family, she was taken aback. Yes, perhaps she had found the place hiding Haveeda.

She reached out to shake his hand. “Very nice to meet you.”

His grip was limp, his blue eyes dull. “I'll show you some of our facility. I could recommend the best form of commitment for a troubled family member.”

“My fiancé's uncle has been increasingly unstable, blaming his family for all of his failures in life. He's unable to work and has made many disturbing and irrational comments. We are all quite worried about him.” She looked around. “Perhaps he would feel at home in a place like this. Cost is no object.”

He nodded. “I understand completely. Let me show you around.”

“I assume you have different levels of security for the various patients,” Laderna said. “For someone of his stature, we want the greatest discretion and confidence.”

The facility was as clean and spotless as Zenn's lab coat. The sanitarium, down every corridor in every wing, was of an old classic design, but the materials looked surprisingly new, with no patina of age. Several of the sections had viewing glass, so she could look inside and see patients in communal surroundings, or lab workers doing biological research on the leading causes of mental illness.

In the east wing, they passed a section devoid of viewing windows, and Laderna saw a very young woman in a lab coat enter through a metal door after pressing her hand against a scanner plate. The door closed before Laderna could see inside.

“I find your facility most interesting, Mr. Zenn,” she said.

*   *   *

Three nights later, after following one of the maintenance women home, she presented the woman with an enormous bribe—more than she was likely to see in the rest of her working life. Laderna found it extremely ironic that the funds she was using to corrupt this employee came directly from Diadem Michella's largesse to Ishop.

From her tour and other surreptitious investigations, Laderna had the general layout of the Cove Institute, as well as a sense of their security measures. Fortunately, the sanitarium's security was primarily designed to control the patients and prevent them from breaking
out
. Slipping
in
should be much less of a challenge.