The Assassin's Salvation (Mandrake Company) (13 page)

“All right.”

“Come in, please come in,” a man with a high-pitched voice said. “You’re letting the heat escape.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” Sergei walked in first.

Jamie started to take a deep bracing breath, remembered the dubious brew floating in the air, and inhaled slightly and through her nose instead. As soon as she passed the threshold, the door closed behind her.

Chapter 7

Quaint fuel-burning lanterns and candles provided the only illumination in the room Jamie had entered. The man who had spoken was barely visible through the steam. He held a stack of towels and stood at the end of the little hallway. A floating beverage tray hovered at his shoulder, a number of glasses of alcohol, juice, and water waiting, condensation dripping down their sides.

“Is that the gut woman?” came a man’s voice from the hazy room beyond the hallway.

“Gut woman?” Sergei mouthed.

Jamie nodded. “I made the appointment in the name of the business.”

Figuring Fergusson, if that was he, was waiting for her, Jamie shuffled past Sergei to enter the room first. But she halted as soon as she walked in, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest. The round bubbling pool in
this
room was occupied. Three couples, two male-female and one male-male, were in some stage of sex or what she guessed was post-coital lassitude—the romance books she had read hadn’t quite prepared her for walking into an orgy. They were all engrossed with each other and only one looked up at Jamie’s entrance, a young man who was licking his lover’s neck. He eyed her up and down, smiled, then did something under the surface of the water to make his partner groan. Jamie was glad the bubbles covered up some of the details, but she doubted she could feel much more uncomfortable, regardless.

Sergei edged closer to her, brushing the back of her shoulder, his eyes like chips of obsidian as he glared at the man with the wandering eyes. Knowing she still had her bodyguard gave Jamie a little more fortitude. She could do this. To make sure Ankari didn’t lose the captain and to help Sergei prove himself. And because she had wanted to get out of answering comm calls. She almost laughed, but that probably wasn’t the appropriate behavior for an orgy. All right, she would talk business for five minutes, and then they could go. As soon as she found the person she needed to talk to.

She lifted her gaze, in part, because she didn’t want to intrude on anyone’s sex, and in part, because none of the young faces in the hot tub matched Fergusson’s picture. Charcoal burned in braziers along the walls in the room, and a hovering pitcher occasionally tipped, pouring water over them, eliciting a new burst of steam. That steam wreathed a number of massage tables and chairs lining the deck in front of the bubbling pool, some empty and some occupied. An older man and a young woman lay on the tables, their faces mashed into little holes, as big men with as much fat as muscle kneaded their backs. Jamie couldn’t identify them, but she didn’t need to—Fergusson was next to them, in one of the massage chairs. His chest pressed against a pad, with his chin supported in a rest as a muscular—and naked—woman kneaded his shoulders. There were more people having sex on sofas and daybeds along the wall behind them. Jamie did her best to ignore the writhing limbs. Apparently, nobody believed in blankets here. Or privacy.

Two men in black body armor, including helmets and faceplates, stood beside palm trees in the far corners. Laser rifles rested in the crooks of their arms. Thanks to the shadows, she had almost missed the guards.

“Interesting,” Fergusson drawled, his gaze locked onto Jamie. He had short, graying hair, a clean-shaven face, and a surprisingly muscular frame for a businessman. Maybe his orgies kept him fit. “I was expecting the CEO or the scientist perhaps. You’re the pilot, aren’t you?”

Jamie wasn’t sure why she was surprised by how much Fergusson knew about their company, but she was. It had been less than two hours since she had called and made the appointment. Someone had been doing some research, unless he had already known about Microbacteriotherapy, Inc. and that they were already visiting his world. And if he knew all that, he might know about the tie to Mandrake Company too.

“I work a surprising number of jobs for my five percent,” Jamie said, trying to sound bitter, like someone who wanted to break away and wouldn’t mind a split of a bounty to see her along the way.

“Do you? Are you authorized to negotiate?” Fergusson had either missed her innuendo, or it hadn’t been as clear as she thought.

“I actually came to you about another matter, my lord.
We
did.” She tilted her head back to include Sergei.

“Such as?” His voice had gone flat, uninviting.

Great, Jamie was probably ruining some chance for the business to take on its wealthiest client. He looked fit, not someone in need of a microbiota transplant, but maybe he had an interest in the alien angle. A lot of people did, and there was a waiting list nearly a thousand people long for when that treatment became viable.

“We were told—” A cry of ecstasy came from one of the sofas, interrupting her. She paused, waiting for it to end. Several people in the hot tub groaned, as if their pleasure was enhanced by knowing someone else was having an orgasm. Hell, maybe it was. She had no idea how these things worked. The whole situation continued to make her nothing but uncomfortable, even if some of the edge was wearing off, perhaps because Fergusson actually wanted to talk business, rather than being “serviced,” or perhaps because of whatever concoction was in the steam. She found the scent less noticeable, now that she had been immersed in it for a while, but reminded herself to be wary about it.

“We were told,” Jamie started again, “that you’ve placed a bounty on Viktor Mandrake’s head. We may be interested in collecting it, but the current offer is too low. We’ve come to negotiate.”

Fergusson’s brow wrinkled. “Whose head?”

Jamie wasn’t an expert judge of reading people, but the question seemed genuine. She slumped. It looked like this had been a wasted trip. “Mandrake Company’s captain,” she said, in case he might have actually issued a bounty on someone without knowing the man’s name. For someone this rich and powerful, it probably took nothing more than a mutter to a secretary to have a person killed.

“Is that the outfit that killed Felgard?” Fergusson asked.

“Yes, and now there’s a bounty on the captain’s head. We were told you placed it there.”

Fergusson’s eyes narrowed. “By whom?”

Yeah, by whom? Jamie looked at Sergei, wondering if he could rescue this discussion.

“Tiger Zhou,” Sergei supplied without hesitation. “A bounty hunter currently working in your city.”

“Really. Mia? Make a note of that, will you?”

The woman on the massage table lifted her head, locks of lush auburn hair tumbling about her face. She was younger than Jamie had thought, no older than she, and her eyes were a violet hue that wasn’t natural. She looked too human to be an android, but the way she said, “Noted, sir,” and lowered her head again without making a note might imply a few computer enhancements.

Jamie had a feeling that bounty hunter was going to get a visit from some thugs. She looked at Sergei again, wondering if that had been the same Zhou who had shown up at the hospital. And also wondering if he had anything to add to this conversation that might get them some information. Even if Fergusson hadn’t placed the bounty, wasn’t it possible that he knew who had?

Sergei’s attention had been drawn downward to one of the couples pressed up against the side of the pool, pumping into each other, nearing their climax. Sergei jerked his gaze forward again when Jamie looked at him, but his cheeks colored. Jamie couldn’t blame him—all the noises and sights
were
distracting. She couldn’t imagine how Fergusson managed to have business meetings where he got anything done in such an… active environment. His eyes were sharp, though, and he didn’t seem affected by the rutting going on all around him.

“You can’t blame us for thinking of you, my lord,” Jamie said. “You were friends with Lord Felgard, and now he’s dead.”

“I’m friends with a lot of people. Sometimes they die. It happens. Especially when they make stupid choices. Now, why don’t you take off that robe, come over here, and tell me more about what Microbacteriotherapy, Inc. can offer me?” He patted an empty massage chair beside him. “I’ll have Spartak come out and work on those tense shoulders of yours.” He smiled. “Or maybe your bodyguard can do it. He’d like that, I’m sure.”

Jamie glanced at Sergei again. He was looking straight ahead this time, his face a stone mask, though his cheeks seemed even redder than before. Maybe more anger than embarrassment. Jamie took a deep breath, trying to decide if it was time to walk out, or if there was any possibility that something could be salvaged from this debacle.

A handsome young man wearing a suit identical to Sergei’s stepped out of a side door with a towel and a bottle of oil and took up a position next to the empty massage chair. Spartak, presumably. Even though his gaze was bland as he regarded Jamie, she flushed, embarrassed anew at the idea of being in the middle of this chaos and having someone… rubbing her. She had never even had a massage in
normal
circumstances. This certainly wasn’t going to be her first exposure to one.

“I’d be happy to discuss the business with you, my lord,” Jamie said. “Perhaps I can even have you moved to the top of the waiting list for the alien microbiota.
If
you could let me know if you’ve heard of anyone in your circle planning revenge for Felgard’s death.”

“So you can negotiate the bounty with that person? Is it just me, or are you pretending you have the ability to negotiate on behalf of your CEO at the same time as you’re plotting to betray one of the owners of your business? Microbacteriotherapy, Inc.
is
currently working out of that mercenary company’s ship, isn’t it?”

She hadn’t said that. He must have looked it up. Which meant he
had
known who Viktor Mandrake was before she mentioned him, or he had at least known the name of the mercenary company. That furrowed brow—had that been feigned? Maybe he was the man behind everything after all.

“As I said, my lord, I get five percent working with the other two ladies. And no pay. I’d walk away for that bounty, and as an insider, I could potentially collect it more easily than a random bounty hunter.” There, that sounded plausible, didn’t it? Her mind felt oddly fuzzy, so she wasn’t sure. Ideas seemed to hover at the edge of her consciousness, and she struggled to grasp them. Was she just nervous, or was that concoction in the air dulling her thoughts? “But I’d be taking a huge risk, and I’d want more like a hundred thousand aurums. Enough that I could walk away and be set for quite some time. Of course, I could put you at the top of the waiting list before leaving.” Uh, she had certainly tacked that last bit on, hadn’t she? Did it even make sense? Did any of her argument make sense? She suddenly wondered if this “office” wasn’t so much a matter of hedonism but was actually designed to dull the senses of those who came to see Fergusson. Or at least distract them in such a manner that they weren’t as good at negotiating as they might otherwise have been.

Fergusson had been shaking his head through her blabbering, and he chuckled now. “Put that out of your mind, girl. You’d be a fool to make enemies of those mercenaries for a few aurums. And your gut company will be worth much more than that, eventually. Keep your mouth shut, do your job, and don’t let anyone take any of that five percent before you can sell out for enough to buy a private island for your retirement.”

Dear God, was he actually giving her advice? Out of… the goodness of his heart? Of course, Jamie had never had any intention of betraying Ankari and Lauren—or Mandrake Company—but his words made her wonder about her plan to sell out early and go off to a university. Would that be a huge mistake? Maybe she should wait until later to go to school, when the business was paying out dividends—hadn’t Ankari mentioned that as a distant goal?—and she could finance her education without selling her shares.

Realizing she had forgotten all about Sergei’s mission and her goal to help him, Jamie glanced guiltily at him, wondering if he might be frowning at her with disapproval. But his chin had drooped, his lips a bare inch from her shoulder, his eyes toward the ground in front of her. No, not the ground. Her breasts. The realization sent a wave of heat through her that intensified between her legs. Seeing the other people engaged in sex hadn’t affected her much, but for some reason his attention made her breath quicken. Her nipples tightened and poked against the thin robe. Usually that would have embarrassed her, especially with so many others around, but all she could think was that she hoped Sergei noticed and found it… arousing.

He didn’t seem to realize she was watching. His breaths were deep, and she felt the warm exhales against her neck. His gaze drifted toward her throat, and he licked his lips, his tongue darting out, as if he were thinking of tasting her.

“All right, you two,” Fergusson said, chuckling again, and Jamie jerked her head up. “You’re pretty people, and we’ll happily watch you, but come over here and make a deal with me first. Your public prospectus says you’ve already gathered samples that the aliens left behind and that you’ve done clinical trials with mice. How close are you to human trials? I have people I’d happily volunteer for that, if it could improve productivity on the planet. Not to mention I’m interested myself, naturally.”

“But Felgard,” Jamie mumbled, though her thoughts were befuddled. Foggy. Her mission, what had it been?

“I won’t make the mistakes he did. Nobody’s kidnapping you. Except maybe your horny bodyguard there.”

That made Sergei lift his head. He closed his eyes. Trying to gather his thoughts? She was having the same struggles.

“Sorry,” he whispered, so quietly she barely heard it.

Jamie shook her head. He hadn’t been doing anything, certainly nothing she hadn’t been thinking about too.

“I will give you a hint,” Fergusson said, “if you’re determined to destroy your future, but I insist you let us enjoy your company to receive it. We still have forty-five minutes until the next appointment.” He patted the empty chair again. “And I insist you give my offer to your CEO. I’ll have something sent over in the morning.”