No Sorrow Like Separation (The Commander Book 5) (13 page)

Newton doted on the legends of Sky and Gilgamesh (he had just recently made the paranoid Gilgamesh’s abbreviated letter list) and had volunteered to help Sky out in the Addi.  Newton, a short little fellow with curly black hair and a whippet build, had Gilgamesh’s cheekiness, but none of Gilgamesh’s seriousness.  He was, well, as apt to turn a witty phrase as Sky, but he was much less verbose.  Sky thought Newton was as dull as dishwater, although the younger Crow had recently made his mark in the absurd adventure department after getting himself in trouble with one Focus Bernard.  Something about a practical joke played on one of Focus Bernard’s leadership team after said team-member had compared him to a rat, only smellier and with worse grooming.

Which was how he ended up here.  His attempts to befriend Focus Bernard were quite over.

“Metasense out on access road 3 and fill me in,” Sky said.  The brevity of his order – and it was an order – brought Newton up short.

Newton wasn’t here to learn from Sky, but to help out in Block 3.  Sky, as senior on-site Crow, tried his best not to throw Newton to the Monsters.  Carefully and clandestine, Shadow had set up a service with the FBI Agents who belonged to the Network.  No one was supposed to know it existed, save Shadow, the contributing Crows, and some FBI man named Gauthier.  Each Crow pledged to keep the place and their work hush hush.  Normally, the assigned Crows cleaned out dross, helped manage the Monsters, and schmoozed and gentled otherwise unknowing Transforms, etcetera and so forth.  According to Shadow, Occum had discovered his peculiar capabilities to cow and tame Monsters in this place, which had led to Occum’s interest in Beast Men.  Block 3 work was a job filled with intriguing possibilities.

“We’ve got ourselves a Focus, an o-o-old one, and an entourage of six Transforms, driving up the road.”  Newton paused.  “Sky!  Focuses aren’t supposed to come here!  What’s going on?”  The only way the Crows would participate was if the Focuses didn’t.  Newton was right.  Focuses weren’t supposed to come here.

“Appears our visitor has enough smilepower to allow herself a visit.  Actually, she might be legit, if she’s who I think she is.”  His relationship with Focus Rizzari had turned out to be good for something besides knock-down fights, if a person considered knowledge of the leading Focus bitches in the States to be good.  “I know of only one Focus down here who travels with an entourage of boot-lickers large enough to rival Elvis’s.  I’m betting we’re about to get a visit from the most puissant Focus Michelle Claunch, good ol’ Focus #12, head of the Focus Network.  However, dearest Newton, I am going to leave you tending Inga here because I have an assignment I haven’t told you about that I need to fulfill.”  That being protecting the Doc’s ass from the goddamned first Focuses.  Although the first Focus who put the hit on him was Focus Adkins, given the chaotic and ever changing nature of first Focus politics there was no predicting whether Focus Claunch was Adkins’ friend or enemy today.  Saving the Good Doctor was the personal obligation he had acquired.

Sky ambled out, leaving Newton sputtering and near panic.  Tending Inga was Sky’s job and not particularly, well, public.  Challenging, too.  Besides the usual dross cleaning any good Monster required, Sky was practicing his cowing techniques.  Cowing Monsters was both more painful and more difficult than controlling dogs, cats, and mice, but, with the advantage of his age and experience, he expected to master the trick within the next few weeks.

“You can’t leave me here all…”

Sky let the door slam behind him and hurried off into the tunnel system below Inga’s quarters.  Newton had some deference problems.  In Sky’s humble opinion, Newton hadn’t earned his self-centeredness yet.  The thought brought a smile to his face and Sky decided to arrange to have several extra trustee ID badges made for him to send to Lori and Hennie.  They would both appreciate his prison pictures.

Yes, just as he expected, the entourage headed right toward Zielinski’s cell.  Sky considered he owed the Doc quite a bit for knocking him out of the ridiculous semi-withdrawal state he had found himself in after his CDC adventure.  Given Occum’s recent glowing letters about how the Doc’s hypnosis trick was now working wonders on his Beast Men charges, Sky suspected the entire Crow community owed the Good Doctor quite a bit.

A Focus!  After the trip into the CDC’s Detention Center horror, he had enough of Focuses to last him a lifetime.  The memories of the white Focus, Patterson, still gave him nightmares.  Whenever he closed his eyes, he remembered the feel of those creeping tendrils of dross twining their way into his glow.  Even remembering his beautiful ladylove made him think of her screaming fights with Kali.  Torture, misery, and terror.

He loved his fiery Focus.  At night he dreamed of Lori, especially that one wonderful night when they had made the baby together.  He thought he might want to take a little bit of time before he went back to her, though.  He didn’t think she would take it well if he had Crow hysterics in the middle of an intimate moment.  A few months, maybe, to let him finish healing and to pay off his obligations.  Then he would be ready for some time with his love again.

Lori always did seem to be at her most, ah, friendly, after he had been away for a while.  Something to anticipate, eh?  And after that?  Ah, Sky, he thought, who knew?  Maybe they would find a way to stay together, despite their problems.

Sky sauntered past the guards to the largish cell that the Doc shared with Rick Goldstein, a Network lawyer who had run afoul of the southern extremists, the ones who thought that Transforms were officially black, regardless of skin color.  The place dwarfed his digs in Toronto.

“Knock knock,” Sky said, still lingering over his thoughts of his beautiful lady.  Goldstein opened the door – yes, door, and yes, opened – to look at Sky.  The guards only locked the doors at curfew.

“The Doc’s taking an afternoon nap.”

“Wake him up.  We’ve got trouble.  Brass balled Focus alert.”

“Shit.”

“Wha?” Zielinski said, rolling himself off the couch.

“I think, Doc, we’re going to have to hide you.  Not that there are many places in chambers so cozy as these that we can hide anyone.  You mind if I toss you up on the roof?”

“Please don’t,” he said, furrowing his thin eyebrows.  “What’s going on?”

“First Focus, on the way here, to this room, about fifteen seconds out of her metasense range.  Dunno.  Try a closet, Doc.  Damn, it’s too small.  Well, sit down here,” Sky said, indicating a spot on the floor somewhat behind the couch, “and I’ll stand right here, and unless they get real aggro, that ought to keep you covered.”

Zielinski did as told.  “Which Focus?”

“Claunch.”

“We’ve met.”  More than once, from Zielinski’s facial expression.

“Damn,” Sky said.  Just his luck.  He closed his eyes, and dropped an illusion on Zielinski.  The Doc now appeared to be twenty years younger, had a full head of blond hair, and looked like an embezzler.  Whatever embezzlers looked like.  Sky hoped he hadn’t screwed the pooch on this.

In a moment, Claunch’s front bodyguards reached the ‘cell’.  They peered in, opened the door without knocking, scanned the room, patted all of them down, including Zielinski, peered under the couch and beds, inspected the lavatory, and even tapped on the cinder-block walls.  When they finished, they whistled an all clear.  Two women came into the room, one with a fold-up chair, the other with a fold-up table.  They assembled them, put out a tablecloth, a pitcher of ice water, and a clean glass.  Next, a milk glass vase and a droopy carnation.

Finally, the Focus herself entered, followed by yet more aides and hangers on. A total of twelve people in her entourage, six Transforms and six normals.  She dressed like a movie star on Oscar night, with a style all her own.  Today, she wore a man’s suit from the late 40s, perfectly tailored.  Her lips were full and red, her form outlined in her suit so clearly even a corpse would notice she wore nothing underneath. The curve of a breast showed invitingly behind the deep cleavage of the lapels, and her eyes were half-lidded and smoky with implied heat.  ‘Screw me,’ she said with every sinuous step she took.

Sky found it damned disconcerting to see some high-ranking political Focus doing the big invitation.  If she made her money off her sex appeal, something was wrong with the world.  In any case, Sky made a point of staying between her and Zielinski.

Claunch held out her hand and a perky young man slapped a file into it.  Eye candy.  Young and buff, with tousled blonde curls.  Claunch took the file, and opened it.  “Mr. Goldstein?” she said, looking around the room.  Her eyes fell on Rick, who stood near the door to the lavatory, gazing worshipfully at the sex goddess sitting at her portable table.  How long had he been in prison?

Perhaps only coincidence led Focus Claunch here.

“Madam Focus?” Rick said, nodded, and raised his hand.

“Good, good.  I’d like to talk to you, Mr. Goldstein.”

Focus Claunch took a sip of water and studied Mr. Goldstein.  Very closely.  She was about five eight, thin, with light brown hair edging toward mousy blonde.  Blue eyes.  Today, she wore her hair in a flip back style, to the back of her shoulders, which accentuated the squareness of her face and muted her pronounced pointy chin.

From Lori’s description, Sky expected evil, madness and idiocy from any first Focus.  He didn’t read any of those in Claunch.  Claunch didn’t even exude worse in the ick and evil department than Focus Biggioni, despite her celebrity affectations.  Now, given Biggioni, his analysis gave room for a heck of a lot of darkness, but still.  Her Transforms had a well-adjusted feel to them and they truly liked being members of an entourage of someone so important.  So, she had a little ego problem.  Some detractors also said the same about Sky, at most a minor flaw.

“Sure, uh, sure, no problem,” Rick stammered.  Sky had never heard Rick stammer before.  He didn’t realize the well-spoken lawyer knew how to stammer.

“I have a proposal for you,” Claunch said.  “My previous lawyer quit in disgust over that-idiot-Biggioni’s Arm Flap disaster and I need a new one for my household.  You may not know this, but I’m the Focus in charge of making the Network run.”

“Focus Claunch, I’ve got seven years to go on my sentence, even after good behavior.”

“Yes.  They threw the book at you simply for having the temerity to defend a Transform accused of a crime.  However, the Network still has a few IRS and Justice Department contacts.  We can get your sentence commuted, by hook or by crook.  I’ve talked to a few northern judges who aren’t swayed by anti-Transform prejudice.  They say that as a model prisoner you’ve already served the appropriate amount of time your crime deserves.”

“You think you can do this?”  Rick smiled.

“I will, if you agree to join my household.”

“I’m not a Transform, ma’am.”

“Ah.  In my household, being unattached is no problem at all.  Why, I have quite a few non-Transforms who I’ve personally recruited to my household.”  Sky almost winced at the sex appeal in her smile as she said her piece.  Focus charisma in action.  Poor Rick would end up as a sexual slave of Focus Claunch if he didn’t watch out.  He practically panted like a dog.

“I th-think I can agree to that.”

“Good, good.  I’ve got a few papers for you to sign, then.”

Sky took a few deep breaths.  His eyes were good enough to read the papers on the way by, across the room.  Employment contracts, the sort where if you quit, you owed twice your paid salary.  Illegal, of course, but what was legal when in front of a Focus wasn’t always what was legal when the Focus wasn’t present.

Sky didn’t feel right interfering.  Nor did the Doc interfere, and he had the personality for it.

Rick flipped through the employment contract.  With barely a mutter he signed his life away.  “So, when can I get out?”

“A few months,” Focus Claunch said.  “The wheels of government turn slowly, especially when one has to make so many personal visits to the appropriate people.”  And make googley eyes at them and get them to do stupid things because of Focus charisma, Sky finished for Claunch.

“No problem,” Rick said.

Sky was glad he was a Crow.

Focus Claunch turned to Sky.  All of a sudden he wished he wasn’t a Crow at all, because his feet wanted to boogie him speedy quick somewhere else.  Claunch may not have been palpably evil, but she was quite forceful.

“You two.  Get over here and sit on the couch.”

“Yes, Focus,” Zielinski said, and stood.  Sky shrugged and walked with the Good Doctor to the couch.  He was glad Ann had beaten the bodyguard routine into him: he already knew how to take out Claunch’s bodyguards, seal the doorway and immobilize the Focus, if needed.

Focus Claunch stared at the two of them.  “Let’s see what’s under that disguise,” she said, and waved her hands as if she cast a magic spell.  Eye Candy behind her did the dirty work and sucked away Sky’s dross constructs.

Damn!  Eye Candy was a Crow!  No twit Crow, either, but one good enough to mask from Sky at close range.  Impossible!

Unless you use misdirection, and now the Crow had exposed himself.  He was a little younger than Sky, say vintage ’58 or so, but hadn’t kept up his training.  Even with Sky’s arctic sojourn, Sky still had him cold.  Eye Candy nodded at Sky, and winked.  Sky very subtly nodded back.  Eye Candy tapped his foot on the ground in a peculiar pattern and Focus Claunch nailed Sky’s gaze.  She sighed.