Audacious (33 page)

“It’s different,” Kris agreed. Most of Kris’s dresses had a narrow waist, then flounced out to leave the illusion of hips. That also left Kris with plenty of room to hide the odd grenade among her crinolines.

Tonight’s dress was a sparkly gray affair that fit her like a second skin.

Except where it grew suddenly thick. Which it did around her butt. “What have you got there? More armor?”

“Nope, baby cakes, offense, ma’am, offense. Feel around. See what opens up.”

Kris brushed her hand over her bottom and found extra thickness. She worked her hand over it a bit slower and found a pocket opening up.

From said pocket she pulled a… something. It was square and thin and invited her to toss it like a Frisbee.

“The gray ones are all whizbangs. Flash, smoke, and noise,” Abby said. “Depress the bump in the center of it and it’s armed. Five-second delay. Turn it right for a four second. Left for a three second.”

Kris eyed the device. Clearly this was not something she’d find in any Marine armory. Then again, few Marines were trained to close and engage the enemy on the dance floor.

“The next row on your butt are green and carry disabling gas. I’ve included a filter in your purse,” Abby said.

Kris felt and found there was a second row. And a third row.

“Last row is more of the whizbangs.”

Abby worked Kris’s head into a wig with long, cascading blond curls to hide her automatic, then placed a lovely tiara to top it all. Not the usual Navy one, but a filigree confection that served better as an antenna for Nelly’s search routines.

Being made of Smart Metal, the crown also afforded Nelly more raw material if she found herself needing to reinforce her nano-scouts.

As Kris rose from her dressing table, she found the shoes, unfortunately, were just as uncomfortable. “Can’t you do anything about these?” Kris said, lifting one foot as high as the tight dress would allow.

And discovered the dress opened a slit when she needed it. She almost did a high kick.

“Sorry, my tinder-footed Highness,” Abby said, “but three-inch heels are three-inch heels. You should try wearing them more often and getting your feet comfortable in them.”

“Three-inch heels are not uniform compliant,” Kris said.

“Or you could buy from the right place. Nelly, why don’t you show Kris what she’s really wearing this evening.”

“Oh, boy, can I,” the computer said. Kris could almost hear hands rubbing together in glee.

And suddenly Kris found herself staring into her mirror at a Kris wearing a Kelly-green dress, with perfect cream-white skin and red hair. She had to squint hard to notice the tiara.

Kris’s eyes widened as she thought of possibilities. “How much can you change this?”

Abby laughed. “If someone’s looking for a blonde princess in a gray dress, they’re gonna have to look long and hard to find you.”

And the dress was a royal blue, and Kris was a brunette.

“Just how far can this go?”

And Kris stared at a black hole in the mirror. Her face, her hair, her dress, her skin were as dark as a black cat in a coal bin at midnight.

And her shoes were pumps, great for running.

“Now that’s what I call an outfit, but my nose is still too big,” she muttered.

“I am only licensed to take care of so many of your problems,” Abby sniffed. “By the way, you’ve got a carbon copy of yourself running around tonight. One of your woman Marines has a dress just like yours. In black. For now.”

“That should provide some interesting options,” Kris muttered thoughtfully, then centered herself on the moment.

“Okay, so how do I look tonight? Nelly, make the dress red. Easy for someone to spot if they’re looking for little old me. Blond hair like usual.” Kris paused, considered just what she could get away with and sighed. “And three-inch heels.”

Abby handed Kris a tiny purse on a golden chain. “It changes colors, too.”

“What if Nelly gets jammed?”

“Put the purse next to the dress. It will get the message,” Nelly said.

And so Kris took one more look in the mirror, scowled at her usual self, and turned to face her future.

Outside,
she ran into her team. Jack was magnificent in his red and blues. “New set?” Kris asked.

“My backup pair. Armored as well as the old set.”

“Good luck,” Kris said.

Commander Malhoney offered Kris an elbow. He was resplendent in his white and blue formal dress uniform.

“You manage to armor up that?” Kris asked.

He opened his white jacket. Someone had sewn sections of a spider-silk bodystocking into its lining. It might do some good there. Then again, it might not. And the wide expanse of white dress shirt covering his gut was likely backed up by nothing more impervious than his skivvy shirt.

The man is taking the risks he asked for,
Kris reminded herself. Penny was next in a floor-length, soft orange taffeta gown. At her elbow was an unfashionably oversize purse.

“You monitoring the bugs tonight?” Jack asked.

“Someone’s got to cover for the chief. He’s outside with Captain DeVar and his hardcases.”

Jack frowned at Kris’s tight dress, then turned to Penny. “I hope you’ve got some extra artillery mixed in with your petticoats.”

“What kind of question is that to ask a young lady,” Penny quipped, then flipped up her wide skirts, showing two rows of bandoleers for grenades and spare magazines. “Especially when the poor girl is feeling like a pack mule.”

“Or a gunrunner,” the commander said with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I forgot, this is your first trip out with our princess,” Jack said. “Early on it always looks hopeless. We’re all doomed. There’s no escaping.”

“And then it gets better,” the commander said, hopefully.

“No, it gets worse,” Penny said. “And worse, and worse.”

“And then we see daylight,” the commander drawled.

“Nope, that’s usually an oncoming train,” Kris deadpanned.

“But you must get out. You’re here, ruining what’s left of my digestion.”

“Hey, this guy has the right attitude,” Penny said.

“Kris, maybe you should keep him around,” Jack said.

“Abby, where are you going to be?” Kris said, turning back to her maid.

“In the Tac Center. Cara spent the afternoon there, with Gramma Ruth, hoping something might come in about Bronc. I can’t think of a better place for me.”

“Keep an eye on Gramma Ruth,” Kris said.

“Gosh, and I was feeling safer just having her nearby.”

And with that, they headed out to do their duty, assuming they could figure out what it was.

43

The
limo was everything Kris expected, and quite a bit more. It had a bed! When the driver saw that Kris’s entourage included two couples and six hulking Marines in dress red and blues as well as two women marines in ball gowns, he made the bed disappear and jump seats appear.

There were sounds of sadness at the change, but Kris was careful not to note where that noise came from. There are some things an officer does not need to know.

Especially when the noise comes from her fellow officers.

Marine escorts pulled up ahead and behind the limo, adding to Kris’s security. The driver did not seem surprised when one of Kris’s Marines settled in on the seat next to him.

The drive to the National Gallery of the Arts took longer than Kris had expected. It was north of town, along the river in a park. The limo driver seemed to think his job included a running commentary on the local scene… or he figured to wreak some revenge on his passengers by boring them with trivia.

“Local soccer leagues use the sports fields as well as track and cross-country racings. We have an annual marathon that people come from light-years away to run in.”

Kris had a hard time buying that.

“On your right are the National Rose Gardens. We have every variation of rose in abundance.” And at that, the air in the limo took on a whiff of rose scent.

“And the Japanese Gardens to your left”— which directed Kris to a hilly affair—“are renown even on Yamato. Eden hired away Yamato’s most expensive gardener for several years to lay out the design and implement it.”

Leaving Kris to wonder if the most expensive was also the most respected. Rarely were they.

“Notice the fields of fire,” Jack whispered in Kris’s ear.

She nodded, the wide expanse of playing fields gave easy search of the approaches to the huge gray building ahead.

“The rose gardens?” Kris said.

“Fully under observation and easy to trim with automatic weapons fire,” Jack offered.

“Roses do have a propensity to grow back,” Penny offered.

And a poor rose harvest for a year or two was a small price to pay for the lives of your political elite.

Maybe Inspector Johnson was right. This was no place for “them” to “kill them all.”

So why didn’t that make Kris’s stomach feel better.

The limo entered a large expanse of crushed rock in front of the Gallery. A huge fountain filled the center of it. A group of horses and figures spewed water in all directions.

“This is an exact replica of a fountain on the grounds of the Palace of Versailles outside Paris on Earth,” the driver said. Which might explain the secretary’s mistake about their final goal. “The actual building is an expanded replica of the National Gallery of Art in Washington on Earth. The Gallery of the Arts here covers most of the ground and main floor.

“The floors above it are the official residence of the President of Eden.”

“All Eden?” Kris asked.

“Well, if you insist, the American nation on Eden. But it amounts to the same,” he said with unquestioning chauvinism.

Kris eyed the marble building. A ground floor. Stone steps leading up to the large portico in front of the main floor. There were at least two floors above that. Maybe a couple more, depending on how the roof was used.

Plenty of rooms to hide in if the upper floors were as divided up as the lower ones. But if they had guns and you had none, any running might only delay the inevitable.

But Kris did have guns and was ready for a fight.

Tonight looked to be interesting.

Jack handed her out of the limo onto the commander’s arm, then helped Penny. She took a moment to arrange the fall of her dress. The Marines and their ladies followed quickly.

Kris looked around. She saw men and women in formal evening dress. But nothing to get alarmed about.

There was no sign of the ambassador, but by now, he should be far to the head of the line. She joined the official procession and began to climb— in three-inch heels.

“Isn’t
that the Longknife woman,” Grant von Schrader said from the west portico where he watched the arrival of future corpses.

Topaz had also been watching the arrivals, making catty comments on this or that dress. Now she focused on the column of what could only be soldiers being led by the woman in the tight red dress.

“So that is her? I’ve never seen her.”

“Yes, you can always tell by the uniforms around her. Only, usually it’s a Marine beside her. One of those in blue and red. Now she’s got someone in white and blue.”

“Guess my daughter’s rich employer can’t keep a man.”

“Speaking of your daughter, now might be a good time to get Cara out of wherever she’s run off to. Why don’t you call her now, and ask her to come home while you’re out? She could be asleep when you get in tonight.”

“Cara has a phone?” her grandmother said.

Grant gave her the number of the new unit.

Topaz made a show of considering Grant’s suggestion, but as she always did, she obeyed. She moved a distance away on the balcony and made the call. For a minute, Grant was treated to the discord of grandmother-granddaughter argument, but when Topaz rang off, she seemed pleased with herself.

“She is headed home. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Young girls need firm guidance,” Grant assured her. And notched off another requirement for tonight.

Another limo came to a stop. Another pair of sacrificial cattle dismounted. Grant added them to the list of obits that would not be on tomorrow’s news.

The list was filling in nicely.

44

Security
at the top of the steps was stiff… if you didn’t have a weapons permit. Kris presented hers and she and her Marines were ushered around the metal detectors and explosive sniffers. In the few minutes Kris watched, several other groups were similarly treated.

A lot of personal heat here.

Were some of these in on the plan?

Now that was an ugly thought.

Kris circulated quickly among the milling crowd. Here she shook a hand, there she accepted a quick kiss on the cheek. Few people waved her down, so she was able to move almost as rapidly as she wanted to.

Quickly, she made a recon of what she could only think of as tonight’s battlefield.

She didn’t much care for what she saw.

The security setup on the west portico guided her through wide doors into a huge rotunda. The place of honor in the center of that was an immense bronze sculpture that portrayed the first settlers setting foot on Eden.

Maybe it was accurate for the American Express team.

Two expansive halls went north and south off the rotunda. Both were expensively done in marble and lined with sculptures. Off of each hall, doors led into specific rooms with exhibits. Rooms two or three deep on both sides.

So people could be ambushed in small rooms or machine gunned in the two halls. Not a pretty picture either way.

“What’s the nano situation?” Kris asked Penny.

“Top of the line,” was the answer from Penny and Nelly.

“About half of them are scouts,” Nelly added. “The other half are hunter-killers.”

“Doesn’t sound like a good idea to launch our own,” Kris said. Both woman and computer agreed.

Kris finished her review of the south wing just as police in formal uniforms began to close it off to prepare for the arrival of government officials.

“I need to find a little girls room,” Kris said to one of them. The one she was pointed to had a long line in front.