Kris Longknife's Bloodhound, a novella (2 page)

“And rather than talk to you, or tell you some lie, he ran away.”

“Yes,” Kris said, then added with her own raised eyebrow.  “Interesting reaction.”

“Very interesting,” the agent agreed.  He seemed to realize he was on the edge of his seat.  He forced himself to settle back, but if he was trying to relax, it didn’t look like he succeeded.

“You see why I was willing to risk everything to get a few words in,” Kris said.

“I do,” the agent said, “and may I say that I’m glad that I didn’t keep you from getting as far as you got.”  He chuckled.  “I don’t often fail.  I’m glad I picked this time to have one of my rare breaches.”

Kris shrugged and waved limply at the quarters that were her prison.  “I did fail.  Now all I can hope for is to get my day in court and present my case to the public at large.  Clearly, I will not be talking about vague rumors and innuendoes for which I can produce no basis in fact.”

The agent nodded vaguely, apparently lost in thought.  When he spoke, it was with a smile.  “On the other hand, it is frequently my job to produce just the sort of facts you lack.”

“Be careful,” Kris said.  She said that a lot.  It usually didn’t do much good.

Jack ceased his pacing.  “While her Grampa Al might not be willing to use violence against Kris here, his subordinates, or their helpers, have been known to get very enthusiastic in their effort to get into his good graces.  Remember ‘will no one rid me of this troublesome priest?’  The same could be said of a princess or a cop.”

The agent nodded at the warning, but his smile grew wider.  “Minor minions are wont to go off half-cocked.  However, they are often the ones that crack under pressure and give us our first handle on a rope that leads up the chain of evidence.”

The agent paused.  Kris could almost see him organizing his thoughts, his plans.  They cascading out behind his eyes. 

“I think I know a couple of trees to shake,” he finally said.  “This could be very challenging.  Challenging and fun.”

“You have a weird sense of fun, then,” Jack said. 

You’re one to talk
, said the look Kris shot at him.

So sue me
, he silently shot right back.

The agent stood purposely, then paused, “One word, Princess.  If memory serves, Musashi still has capital punishment.”

Kris nodded.  “Your memory is correct.  Nelly advised me of it before we landed on the
Mutsu
, but thank you for the thought.” 

Kris paused, trying to figure out if there was anything she could do to help this man, this bloodhound who was willing to take on an impossible search for her.

“If I may add, if you insist on taking on this quest for a damsel . . . and all humanity . . . in distress, you might want to talk with my brother Honovi.  He’s a member of parliament and not as blind to some things as my father.  You might also want to talk to my Grampa Trouble.”

The agent laughed.  It was something that started deep in his belly and rose to light up his face.  “If you mean General Tordon, I talked with him.  He was a most reticent witness.”

Kris joined in with a chuckle of her own.  “He’ll loosen up when you get to know him.  Tell him I sent you and that I dropped the Grampa Al monkey on your back.”

“Thank you,” the agent said, then hastened to correct any misperception.  “Not for the Grampa Al monkey, but for the secret handshake for General Trouble.”

“Just remember,” Kris said, shaking her head in warning.  “He’s trouble for everyone, even me.  Oh, another thing.  I left my luggage in the Downside elevator station.  Is there any chance you could send it on to the
Mutsu
?”

“The police impounded it, but with no case filed, I can likely get it loose.”

“Thank you.”

“There is just one more matter, Princess.  One of my agents, Leslie Chu is a great fan of yours.  Is there any chance I might have your autograph?”

“I have a fan club?” Kris said, not believing her ears.

“It seems so,” the agent assured her. 

Jack just shook his head.

Kris found this almost as hard to accept as an Iteeche Death Ball appearing off her bow.  She’d adjusted to that; she could adjust to this.  “Is there any paper here?”

“I can print out one of your pictures,” Nelly said, and the admiral’s desk began spitting out a print.  Kris took it from the printer, sat at the desk and found a pen.  She thought for a moment, signed it with a flourish, and then added. 

“Sorry I missed you.”

The agent allowed her another one of his hearty laughs and, with a solemn bow from the waist, turned to take his leave.

Chapter
2

Late the next morning,
Senior Chief Agent in Charge Foile
knocked at the front door of Nuu House.  The portico and wood carved door was either imposing or intimidating, depending on your perspective.

Agent Foile considered it an interesting piece of history.

From nowhere in particular a voice inquired, “Who may I say is calling?”

“I am Taylor Foile, calling on General Trouble.”

He’d considered his words carefully.  Intentionally, he’d dropped his official credentials.  He was on leave.  His boss had signed for a month off.  This was
not
bureau business.  And, having been tasked by Kris to meet and seek the help of the legend, it seemed appropriate to use the legend’s name.

A long moment later, the door opened and Taylor found himself face to face with the legend himself.

“General Trouble?”

“Agent Foile, I presume.”

“Please call me Taylor.  I’m on leave for the next month.”

The legend raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing.

Before the silence stretched, Taylor asked, “May I come in and is there any place we can talk in private?”

“I assume you’d prefer someplace less intimidating than the room we last met in?”

“Please.  You’re great-granddaughter Kris has asked me to talk with you.”

The legend seemed to try to scowl, but there was too much of a grin for it to overcome.  “You have to watch out for that girl.  She’s trouble.”

“Interesting, she gave me the same warning about you, sir.”

“Then you’re twice warned,” the legend said, pointing Taylor to what the agent knew to be the library.  The legend led him to a pair of sofas, facing each other before a fireplace that was large enough to play cards in.

On the table between them was a platter with some delicious looking confections as well as a coffee urn and a thermos of hot water. 

“What would you like to drink?” the general asked.

“Tea, please,” Taylor said.

The general poured hot water into two delicately fine china cups of white with gold filigree and offered Taylor a box full of assorted teas.  Taylor chose Earl Gray and began to steep his tea with purpose.

“So,” the general said, dipping his own tea bag of Earl Gray, “Where is Kris?”

“You don’t know?”

“I have many kids, grandkids, and more great-grandkids than I can hope to keep track of, considering that the last number keeps changing.  No great-great-grandkids.  That generation seems too busy to find time for kids.”  He paused to stare at nothing far away before adding.  “Their loss.”

“I thought you had seen Kris only recently,” the agent found himself falling back into his professional form.

The legend easily fell back into his own form.  He sipped his tea and gave away nothing.

“Pardon me.  I shouldn’t have asked that,” Taylor said.  “I am on leave, but it seems I’m to have a busman’s holiday.”

That eyebrow went up, again.

Taylor took that for a nebulous question and attempted to answer some of it.  “Kris is, for the moment, safe on the Musashi battleship
Mutsu
.  Unfortunately, she is in custody and headed for her day in court.”

The grandfather across from Taylor frowned.  “Musashi still has the death penalty, doesn’t it?”

“Kris told me that she was aware of that before she surrendered herself.”

“Hmm,” was all the grandfather offered.

After taking a moment to weigh the general’s bland facade, Taylor went on.  “Were you aware that Alexander Longknife had three of the upper stories of his tower ready to be flooded with Sarin gas?”

That struck a nerve.

The general scowled.  “That man is going around the bend without a paddle,” he growled.

“It seems so,” the agent in Foile agreed.  “The question is just how far around whicht bend he intends to go?”

The general eyed Taylor for a long moment.  Taylor met him measure for measure. 

“What has my great-granddaughter shared with you?” General Trouble asked.

Taylor told him in as few words as he could manage.

When he finished, the general took a final sip of his tea, set it down and fixed Taylor with a level gaze.  “You’re in a lot of trouble,” he said.

“I’ll take that as a complement, coming from you,” Taylor said with an even grin.

Trouble grinned right back.  Tiger to tiger.

“So,” the old general said, “what do you plan to do about this?”

“I intend to find out if there is a Fleet of Fools intent on making all the mistakes Princess Kristine’s Fleet of Discovery did not make,” Taylor said.

“That will be a tough nut to crack,” Trouble said.

“I’ve cracked a few tough nuts in my time,” Taylor answered evenly.

“I imagine that you have.  An, no hard feelings on not getting to Kris before she made her try last night.”

“I am glad that I failed,” Taylor admitted.  “I haven’t blown it very often, but if there was ever a situation where I needed to do a face plant, this was the one.”

“So, assuming that you are not here to arrest me, what can I do for you?” the general said, relaxing into his sofa.

“If you were Alexander Longknife and sending out a treasure fleet, what ship or ships would you send?  If we can identify the likely ships, I can begin to look for a weak link in the crew.”

Trouble rubbed at his chin.  “Ships, especially merchant ships, are not my area of expertise.  You might want to talk to Kris’s brother, Honovi.  He may be a politician, but he’s a good one.  As of late, he’s been working on laws relating to merchant ship safety.  He might know what you need to know.  Then again, he might not.”

“You’re the second person to suggest I have a talk with him,” Taylor said.  “Kris did as well.”

“Then let me get you an appointment to see a very busy member of parliament.”  Trouble said, and began making the arrangements.

Chapter
3

Late that evening, Taylor Foile found himself ushered into a nursery where Member of Parliament Honovi Longknife was walking slowly back and forth, bouncing a tiny infant who seemed more colicky than happy with his father’s attention.

“I’m sorry I could not see you sooner,” the young father whispered, letting his infant offspring grab his little finger and hold on tight.  A burp brought a smile to its tiny lips and another one to the father’s.

“A new, unhappy tummy?” Taylor asked.

“Terribly so,” the father said.  “The doctors assure us this is just a stage, but it cannot end soon enough for me.”

Taylor raised a questioning eyebrow.

“My wife and I are switching off nights.  Tonight I have the duty.  And yes, we do have hired help, but there are just some things a father and mother should do.”

Taylor suspected that the Great Billy Longknife had had little to do with his own children’s upbringing.  Here was a new father in rebellion against the pattern.  Maybe not as vocal and public as the young princess’s, but cut from the same family tree.

The father switched to Member of Parliament as he turned his gaze from child to agent. “Grampa Trouble said you’ve talked to Kris and him and needed to talk to me.  I’m sorry I couldn’t cut some time out sooner for you, but . . .” the young man shrugged. 

The movement of his shoulders was easily subsumed into this walking and bouncing of the infant, but Taylor caught it.  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Your sister and the General think you can,” Taylor said and began again to spin out the tale Kris had shared with him, cut now to the absolute fewest words.  Before he was done, the scion to the Longknife throne interrupted him.

Honovi was shaking his head.  “Grampa Al would never do that,” leaked out in more of a yelp than a whisper.  The infant, who had been starting to doze off opened his eyes to take in his surroundings, but a huge yawn of tiny proportions led to drooping eyes again.

When the infant again slept in his father’s worried arms, the Member of Parliament went on in a firm whisper.  “I was there the night when Grampa Al swore off politics and demanded Father do the same.  Grampa Al would never get involved in politics.  Certainly not off-planet.”