Law of Survival (5 page)

By the time Hodge called her from the lobby to tell her that the colonel's skimmer had arrived, she felt prepared to face whatever Derringer had to throw at her. Before she left her flat, she removed Niall's wafer from the workstation reader, returned it to the slipcase, and tucked it into the safety of her inner tunic pocket.

Derringer's steel-blue double-length hugged the curb in front of the apartment house. As soon as Jani hit the sidewalk, the doorman and Derringer's driver engaged in a footrace to see who would play the gentleman. The point was declared moot when Derringer popped the door open himself and stepped out of the vehicle.

“Jani.” Even though the red stripe had been removed from his desertweight trousers in deference to the Vynshàrau's color protocols, no one would ever mistake him for anything but highly polished mainline brass.

“Eugene.” Jani brushed past him and bent low to climb into the jump seat across from him. “What did you need to see me—” She fell silent when she saw a young man already sitting where she wanted to sit. “Who are you?” She could hear the sharpness in her voice, but she didn't savor being forced to sit next to Derringer. She scooted down the bench seat, as far away from the colonel as possible.

Derringer doffed his garrison cap and eased in beside her. “This is Peter Lescaux.” He nodded to the intruder, who smoothed the neckpiece of his somber brown daysuit. “Exterior Minister Ulanova's new Chief of Staff.”

“The storied Jani Kilian.” Lescaux smiled shyly and extended his hand. “I'm thrilled to meet you at last.”

Jani took in the brilliant blondness offset by brown eyes. The sharp bones, slim fitness, vague, indefinable accent.
So you're Anais's new Lucien.
His skin felt cool and smooth; he'd buffed his nails until they shone like glass. She likened
him to a snake that had just shed its skin, then pushed the thought from her mind before it showed in her face.

“I thought we'd stop at a place I know nearby, grab some lunch.” Derringer nodded to his driver; the skimmer pulled away from the curb. “Lord knows how long we'll be holed up at the embassy—we better stoke up while we can.”

“
Excellent
thought, Colonel,” Lescaux nodded as though someone had spring-loaded his neck.

Oh brother!
Jani knocked the back of her head against the seat bolster.

“Fancy setup you've got.” Derringer cast a sideways glance in her general direction. “I'd heard you'd taken a flat near the Parkway, but Armour Place? Now I know what happens to all those consultant fees we pay you.”

Jani counted to three before answering. “The Registry employment adviser advised my renting at the best address I could afford. It instills confidence in the client.” She wanted to add that since her flat overlooked the alley and commanded views of neither the Chicago skyline or the lake, she paid half the rent of her more scenically gifted neighbors, but she'd be damned if she'd justify her living arrangements to Derringer.

“It is a good address,” Lescaux said, nodding knowingly. “All the Families have residences nearby.”

Jani watched the passing city views, and waited. And waited some more. “Are you two going to tell me what's going on”—she swung around and glared at Derringer—“or are you going to make me guess?”

Derringer nodded again to his driver, who raised the privacy shield between his seat and the passenger cabin. “How much do you know about problems on Elyas?”

Jani flash-filtered all the scuttlebutt she had heard over the past weeks. “The problems I've heard about are confined to Karistos. It's a typical colonial capital, grown too big too quickly. The infrastructure hasn't kept pace. Skimways can't handle the traffic. Water treatment facilities are overtaxed. Last month, a majority of the population got dosed with a microbial contaminant that had infested the treatment system of the primary facility. Several people died.”

“Twenty-two,” Lescaux piped. Jani acknowledged the information with a nod, Derringer not at all.

“The plant needs an upgrade—that's a given. A new plant is the best solution, but you're talking two to three years down the road before that's completed.” He thumped his thigh with a closed fist. “Take a wild guess who's volunteered to help the Elyans with their micro problems in the meantime. Just guess.”

Jani blinked innocently. “The regular crop of Family-connected suppliers, the ones who designed the inadequate plant in the first place.”

Derringer glared from Jani to Lescaux. “Tell her.”

For an instant, Lucien's sharpness flashed in Lescaux's eyes. Then he looked at Jani, and the boyish aspect returned. “The Elyan Haárin surprised us all. They struck a deal with the Karistos city government for a microbial filter assembly with sufficient capacity to tide over the Karistosians until the new plant is built.”

“The Haárin sold us a component that they use in their own water treatment?” Jani looked at Derringer. “The Rauta Shèràa Council will consider that a violation of their dietary protocols. The Oligarch won't allow it.”

“You'd think that, wouldn't you?” Derringer deigned to glance at Lescaux once more. “Show her the big surprise.”

Lescaux rummaged through the briefbag on the seat beside him. “It took several passes through the stacks of contract documentation before we realized what we had.” The shy smile shone once more. “I'm sure I don't need to tell you how easy it is to overlook that one vital piece of paper.” He fumbled through his files once, then again. His searching grew more agitated as the soft
patpatpat
of Derringer's fingers drumming on the leather upholstery filled the cabin.
“Ah!”
He yanked a document out of its slipcase—the high-pitched tearing noise of smooth parchment sliding over pebbled plastic made Jani cringe.

“Thank you.” She took the document from him as though it was wet tissue, her thumbs and index fingers gripping the top corners. “Ease it out of the slipcase from now on—abrasion can play hell with the inset chips.”

“Sorry.” Lescaux wavered between sheepish apology and expectant anxiety as he watched Jani examine the document. “You see what that is, don't you?”

Jani draped the paper across her knees. “It's an analysis of the Karistos city council decision to contract with the Elyan Haárin.” She ran her fingers along the edges once, then again. The paper possessed the substantial, almost fleshy feel of highest quality parchment. “Best grade of paper. Premium inks and foils.” She reached for her duffel. “If you want me to scan—”

“Just read the bottom paragraph,” Derringer growled.

“I'll read the entire thing.” Jani activated her scanpack and set it beside her on the seat. “Neat little precis describing how the Karistos city government has come to depend on the Elyan Haárin for many things—shipping and receiving of goods and documents, design and maintenance of everything from devices and instruments to buildings.” She shrugged. “It's the way of the colonies—human and Haárin doing business together. Some Haárin enclaves have been in existence since before the Laum-Vynshàrau civil war. They remained in place even during the postwar cessation of human-idomeni diplomatic relations. Over the course, the Haárin have sold us things that violated their dietary protocols. But they never wrote it down, and they sure as hell never drew up a formal agreement that required a buy-in from Shèrá.”

“Keep reading.” Derringer kept his gaze fixed on the view outside. They'd entered the far north region of the city, a place of narrower streets and smaller buildings separated by stretches of parkland, and he seemed to be savoring the early fall scenery.

You're not the sight-seeing type, Eugene.
Jani turned back to the document. “The writer concludes the piece by stating that”—her voice faltered—“that the Haárin have set out purposely to win the trust and confidence of the human population of Karistos with a mind toward undermining colonial security. Acquiring control over utilities and infrastructure by supplying vital services and equipment will serve as the first step in this infiltration.” She flicked at the document with her thumb and forefinger—the sharp crack filled the cabin. “That's bull.”

Lescaux's chin jutted defensively. “Exterior takes these opinions very seriously.”

“The reason the Haárin want to provide us with vital services and equipment is because there's money to be made.” Jani thought back to some of the Haárin she had known. “They like money. They like the reputation they've garnered for sound business practices. Those things give them a freedom they don't have within the Shèrá worldskein—they're not going to do anything to screw that up.”

Lescaux cleared his throat. “Exterior believes the Elyan Haárin were specifically ordered by the Oligarch to infiltrate Karistos. Exterior believes Karistos is a preliminary step in Morden nìRau Cèel's plan to weaken Commonwealth defenses from the outside in.”

“By Exterior, you mean Anais Ulanova.” Jani waited for Lescaux's nod. “Anais is prejudiced where the Haárin are concerned. She believes them responsible for the death of her good friend during the idomeni civil war. She also derives a substantial portion of her fortune from her ownership of companies with which the Haárin are competing. It's in her interest to stop their expansion.”

Lescaux licked his lips and tried again. “Her sole interest is in protecting the Elyan citizens.”

“Her sole interest is in maintaining an income stream,” Jani countered. “Family companies have worked for years to stifle competition in the colonies. That water treatment plant was built to fail so that someone could rake in exorbitant repair fees. And if fond recollection serves, any deals that the Karistos city government tried to work with unaffiliated colonial businesses were countered with veiled threats of sabotage and sudden unavailability of vital parts. The Elyan Haárin were their last resort.” She glanced at Derringer, who still looked out the window. His silence was uncharacteristic. He should have questioned her loyalty to the Commonwealth at least once by now.

“Anais's prejudice, as you call it, against the Haárin isn't unfounded,” Lescaux said. “She showed me evidence linking them to the death of Talitha Ebben. That was her friend's name.”

I know all about General Ebben. A sergeant named Niall Pierce killed her and two other officers during the human evac from Rauta Shèràa, and a colonel named Hiroshi
Mako covered it up. Those are the bodies Mako needs to keep buried. Any investigation into Knevçet Shèràa would have uncovered them—that's why Mako arranged to medical me out of the Service rather than risk an open trial. Niall talks to me about Ebben…a lot. That's our shared experience, that we both killed officers. Only I paid my own bill, but Borgie paid Niall's and the guilt eats him alive, so let's not talk about Ebben, all right?
“Let's get back to this precis,” Jani said. “I assume it was written by an Exterior agent working in Karistos?”

“Well, we're here.” Derringer rubbed his hands together as the skimmer docked in a secluded chargelot. “I can't bear to keep you in suspense, Kilian, so let me cut your legs out from under you while you're still sitting down. Your old teacher wrote that precis. His Excellency Égri nìRau Tsecha, the ambassador of the Shèrá worldskein. Only you still call him Nema because you two are such good friends.” He shot her a cruel grin. “Now, shall we go to lunch?”

 

Derringer's restaurant of choice was located at the end of a tree-lined shopping street. He chose a table in the outdoor dining area; as soon as they sat down, waitstaff appeared, watered, appetizered, and vanished.

“You're awfully quiet, Jani.” Derringer's voice, muffled by poppy seed bread and stuffed egg, sounded smug.

“Just massing my artillery.” Jani picked through the assorted baskets and plates as John's ever-growing list of forbidden foods looped through her mind, searching for something to quell her roiling gut. She settled for a piece of flatbread; the taste lived up to the name. “If you're looking for an initial volley, I think you're both full of shit.”

Derringer responded with a cocked eyebrow and a nod in Lescaux's direction. “Careful. You'll shock young Peter.”

Jani looked at Young Peter, who stared fixedly at his water glass. “Do you have any idea the magnitude of the accusation you're leveling?” Lescaux's eyes, awash in full defensive smolder, came up to meet hers, but before he could answer, Derringer intercepted the conversational pass.

“It makes sense. Tsecha's the most pro-human idomeni alive. He thinks you're his heir, that we're all destined to be
come human-idomeni hybrids, and that our futures are as one.” He broke bread, scattered crumbs. “Oligarch Cèel has had Tsecha's delusions up to
here
and has started blocking him at every turn. Tsecha's old and getting older, afraid he'll die before his dream is realized. That fear has made him desperate enough to give us a leg up.”

The anger in Lescaux's eyes transmuted to shocked realization. “That's right! Anais told me that Tsecha started grooming you at the Academy. He thinks you're to succeed him as the next chief propitiator of the Vynshàrau!”

The silence that fell held a tense, after-the-thunderclap quality. Jani studied the diners at the other tables, the flagstones at her feet, the flowering shrubs surrounding the patio. Anything to avoid the two faces that regarded her, one with distaste, the other with rapt curiosity.

Waitstaff arrived to refill and take orders. That broke the tension somewhat, even though Lescaux looked uncomfortable when Jani declined to order any food. Derringer, however, let it pass. He knew about her dietary difficulties. Their relationship being what it was, he had taken special care to bring her to a restaurant that specialized in the dairy-drenched food she could no longer stomach.

While Derringer and Lescaux devoured the creamy, cheese-laced appetizers, Jani scanned what she had already christened The Nema Letter. She placed her palm-sized scanpack over the upper left-hand corner of the document and began the slow back and forth initial analysis. She had only gone a few centimeters when her 'pack display flared red and the unit squealed so loudly that a woman sitting at the next table dropped her spoon in her soup.