The Bloodline Feud (Merchant Princes Omnibus 1) (39 page)

The first thing Miriam did was switch her phone off, open the back, and replace the SIM chip with one she took from her billfold. Then she reassembled it. The phone beeped as it came up with a
new identity, but there was no voice mail waiting for her. Steeling herself for disappointment, she dialed a number – one belonging to another cell phone she’d sent via FedEx a couple
of days before.

‘Hello?’ The voice at the end of the line sounded positively chirpy.

‘Paulie! Are you okay?’

‘Miriam! How’s it going, babe?’

‘It’s going messy,’ she admitted. ‘Look, remember the other day? Are you still home?’

‘Yes. What’s come up?’

‘I’m going to come pay you a visit,’ said Miriam. ‘First, I’ve got a lot of things to discuss, stuff to get in order – and a down payment. Second, I’ve
got a lodger. How’s your spare room?’

‘You know it’s been empty since I kicked that bum Walter out! What’s up, you wanting him to stay with me?’

Miriam glanced at Brill. ‘It’s a she, and I think you’ll probably like her,’ she said guardedly. ‘It’s part of that deal I’ve made. I need you to put
her up for a few weeks, on the company – I mean, I’m paying. Trouble is, she’s from, uh, out of state, if you follow me. She doesn’t know her way around
at
all
.’

‘Does she, like, speak English?’ Paulette sounded interested rather than perturbed, for which Miriam was immensely grateful. Brilliana was toying with her coffee and pretending not
to realize Miriam was discussing her, on an intimate basis, with a talking box.

‘Yeah, that’s not a problem. But this morning was the first time she’d ever met an electric shower, and that is a problem for me, because I’ve got a lot of traveling to
do in the next few weeks and I need to put her where someone can keep an eye on her as she gets used to the way things are done over here. Can you do that?’

‘Probably,’ Paulette said briskly. ‘Depends if she hates my guts on first sight – or vice versa. I can’t promise more than that, can I?’

‘Well – ’ Miriam took a deep breath. ‘Okay, we’re coming up today on the train. You going to be home in the afternoon?’

‘For you, any day! You’ve got a lot to tell me about?’

‘Everything,’ Miriam said fervently. ‘It’s been crazy.’

‘Bye, then.’

Miriam put the phone down and rubbed her eyes. Brill was watching her oddly.

‘Who was that?’ she asked.

‘Who – oh, on the phone?’ Miriam glanced at it. So Brill had figured out that much?
Bright girl
. ‘A friend of mine. My, uh, business agent. On this side. For the
past few days, anyway. We’re going to see her this afternoon.’

‘Her?’ Brill raised an eyebrow. ‘All the hot water you want, no need to feed the fire, and women running businesses? No wonder my mother didn’t want me coming here
– she was afraid I’d never come back!’

‘That seems to go with the territory,’ Miriam agreed.

After breakfast she chivvied Brill into getting dressed again. In the Gruinmarkt her imported outfit, a tailored suit and blouse, had marked her out as a lady of the Clan, erecting an invisible
barrier around her. Exotic dress was a common way in which minorities segregated themselves from a wider population. But here she looked like just another business traveller: she’d blend into
the background just fine unless she opened her mouth. Miriam thought for a moment, then picked another jacket – this time a dressy one rather than one built for bad weather. She’d have
to keep her pistol in her handbag, but she’d look less out of place traveling with Brill, and hopefully it would distract any killers hunting for a lone woman in her early thirties with
thus-and-such features.

Miriam took the large suitcase when they left the room and headed downstairs. Brill’s eyes kept swiveling at everything from telephones to cigarette ads, but she kept her questions to
herself as Miriam shepherded her into a nearby bank for ten minutes, then flagged down a taxi. ‘What was that about?’ Brill murmured after Miriam told the driver where to go.

‘Needed to take care of some money business,’ Miriam replied. ‘Angbard gave me a line on some credit, but – ’ she stopped, struggling.
I’m talking Martian
again,
she realized.

‘You’ll have to tell me how this credit thing works some time,’ Brill commented. ‘I don’t think I’ve actually seen a coin or tally since I came here. Do
people use them?’

‘Not much. Which makes some things easier – it’s harder to steal larger amounts – and other things more difficult – like transferring large quantities of money to
someone else without it being noticed.’

‘Huh.’ Brill stared out of the window at the passing traffic, the pedestrians in their dark winter colors, and the bright advertisements. ‘It’s so noisy! How do you get
any thinking done?’

‘Sometimes it’s hard,’ Miriam admitted.

She bought two tickets to Boston and shepherded Brill onto the express train without incident. They found a table a long way from anyone else, which turned out to be a good thing, because Brill
was unable to control her surprise when the train began to move. ‘It’s so different!’ she squeaked, taken aback.

‘It’s called a train.’ Miriam pointed out of the window. ‘Like that one, only faster and newer and built for carrying passengers. Where we’re going is within a
day’s walk of Angbard’s palace, but it’ll only take us three and a half hours to get there.’

Brilliana stared at the passing freight train. ‘I’ve seen movies,’ she said quietly. ‘You don’t need to assume I’m stupid, ignorant. But it’s not the
same as
being
here.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Miriam shook her head, embarrassed. She looked at Brill appraisingly. She was doing a good job of bluffing, even though the surprises the world kept throwing at
her must sometimes have been overwhelming. A bright kid, well-educated for her place in time, but out of her depth here –
How would I cope if someone gave me a ticket to the thirtieth
century?
Miriam wondered. At a guess, there’d be an outburst of anger soon, triggered by something trivial – the realization that this wasn’t fairyland but a real place, and
she’d grown up among people who lived here and withheld everything in it from her.
I wonder which way she’ll jump?

Opposite her, Brilliana’s face froze. ‘What is it?’ Miriam asked quietly.

‘The . . . the second row of seats behind you – that’s interesting. I’ve seen that man before. Black hair, dark suit.’

‘Where?’ Miriam whispered, tensing. Feeling for her shoulder bag, the small pistol buried at the bottom of it.
No, not on a train
. . .

‘At court. He is a corporal of honor in service to Angbard. Called Edsger something. I’ve seen him a couple of times in escort to one or another of the duke’s generals. I
don’t think he’s recognized me. He is reading one of those intelligence papers the tinkers were selling at the palace of trains.’

‘Hmm.’ Miriam frowned. ‘Did you see any luggage when he got onboard? Anything he carried? Describe him.’

‘There is a trunk with a handle, like yours, only it looks like metal. He has it beside him and places one hand on it every short while.’

‘Ah.’ Miriam relaxed infinitesimally. ‘Okay, is the case about the same size as mine?’

Brill nodded slowly, her eyes focused past Miriam’s left shoulder.

‘That means he’s probably a courier,’ Miriam said quietly. ‘At a guess, Angbard has him carry documents daily between his palace and Manhattan. That explains why he
spends so little time at court himself – he can keep his finger on the pulse far faster than the non-Clan courtiers realize. If I’m right, he’ll be carrying a report about last
night, among other things.’ She raised a finger to her lips. ‘Trouble is, if I’m right, he’s armed and dangerous to approach. And if I’m wrong, he’s not a
courier. He’s going to wait for the train to stop, then try to kill us.’ Miriam closed her hand around the barrel of her pistol, then stopped.
No, that’s the wrong way to
solve this,
she thought.

Instead she pulled out her wallet and a piece of paper and began writing.

Brilliana leaned forward. ‘He’s doing it again,’ she murmured. ‘I think there’s something in his jacket. Under his arm. He looks uncomfortable.’

‘Right.’ Miriam nodded, then shoved the piece of paper across the table at Brill. There was a pair of fifty-dollar bills and a train ticket concealed under it. ‘Here is what
we’re going to do. In a minute, you’re going to stand up while he isn’t looking and walk to the other end of this carriage – behind you, over there, where the doors are. If
– ’ she swallowed – ‘if things go wrong, don’t try anything heroic. Just get off the train as soon as it stops, hide in the crowd, make damn sure he doesn’t see
you. There’ll be another train through in an hour. Your ticket is valid for travel on it, and you want to get off at South Station. Go out of the station, tell a cab driver you want to go to
this address, and pay with one of these notes, the way you saw me do it. He’ll give you change. It’s a small house; the number is on the front of the door. Go up to it and tell the
woman who lives there that I sent you and I’m in trouble. Then give her this.’ Miriam pushed another piece of paper across the table at her. ‘After a day, tell Paulette to use the
special number I gave her. That’s all. Think you can do that?’

Brill nodded mutely. ‘What are you going to do now?’ she asked quietly.

Miriam took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to do what we in the trade refer to as a hostile interview,’ she said. ‘What was his name, again?’

*

‘Hello, Edsger. Don’t move. This would not be a good place to get help for a sucking chest wound.’

He tensed and she smiled, bright and feral, like a mongoose confronting a sleepy cobra.

‘What – ’

‘I said
don’t move
. That includes your mouth. Not very good, is it, letting your mark turn on you?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’

‘I think you do. And I think it’s slack of you, nodding off just because you’re on the iron road and no world-walkers can sneak up from behind.’ She smiled wider, seeing
his unnerved expression. ‘First, some ground rules. We are going to have a little conversation, then we will go our separate ways, and nobody needs to get hurt. But first, to make that
possible, you will start by slowly bending forward and sliding that pistol of yours out into the shopping bag under the table.’

The courier leaned forward. Miriam leaned with him, keeping her pistol jammed up against his ribs through her jacket. ‘Slowly,’ she hissed.

‘I’m slow.’ He opened his jacket and slid a big Browning automatic out of the holster under his left armpit – two-fingered. Miriam tensed, but he followed through by
dropping it into the open bag.

‘And your cell phone,’ she said. ‘Now, kick it under the table. Gently.’ He gave it a half-hearted shove with one foot.

‘Put your hands between your knees and lean back slowly,’ she ordered.

‘Who are you?’ he asked, complying.

‘First, you’re going to tell me who you’re delivering that case to at the other end,’ she said. ‘Ordinary postal service – or Angbard himself?’

‘I can’t – ’

She shoved the gun up against him, hard. ‘You fucking
can
,’ she snarled, slightly unhinged: ‘Because if you don’t tell me, you are going to read about the
contents of that case on the front page of
The New York Times
, are you hearing me?’

‘It goes to Matthias.’

‘Angbard’s secretary, right.’ She felt him tense again. ‘That was the correct answer,’ she said quietly. ‘Now, I want you to do something else for me.
I’ve got a message for Angbard, for his ears only, do you understand? It’s not for Matthias, it’s not for Roland, it’s not for any of the other lord-lieutenants he’s
got hanging around. Remember, I’ve got your number. If anyone other than Angbard gets this message, I will find out and I will tell him and he will kill you. What’s going to happen next
is: The train’s stopping in a couple of minutes. You will stand up, take your case – not the bag with your phone – and get off the train, because I will be following you. You will
then stand beside the train door where I can see you until it’s ready to move off, and you will stay there while it moves off because if you don’t stand that way I will shoot you. If
you want to know why I’m so trigger-happy, you can ask Angbard yourself – after you’ve delivered his dispatches.’

‘You must be – ’ his eyes widened.

‘Don’t say my name.’

He nodded.

‘You’re going to be an hour late into Boston – an hour later than you would have been, anyway. Don’t bother trying to organize a search for me because I won’t be
there. Instead, go to the Fort Lofstrom doppelgänger house, make your delivery to Matthias as usual, say you missed the train or something, then ask to see the old man and tell him about
meeting me here.’

‘What?’ He looked puzzled. ‘I thought you had a message.’

‘
You
are the message.’ She grinned humorlessly. ‘And you’ve got to be alive to deliver it, so as long as you do what I say you get to live. We’re slowing
up: Do as I tell you and it’ll all be over soon.’

He shook his head very slowly. ‘He was right about you,’ he said. But when she asked him who he meant, he just stared at her.

*

There was an old building on Central Avenue, with windows soundproofed against the roar of turbofans. Whenever the wind was from the southwest and inbound flights were diverted
across the city, the airliners would rattle the panes. But perhaps there were other reasons for the soundproofing.

Two men sat in a second-floor office, Matthias leaning back behind a desk and Roland perched uncomfortably close to the edge of a sofa in front of it.

‘Consignment F-12 is on schedule,’ said Matthias. ‘It says so right here on the manifest. Isn’t that right?’ He fixed Roland with a cold stare.

‘I inspected it myself,’ said Roland. Despite his stiff posture and the superficial appearance of unease, he sounded self-confident. ‘Contractor Wolfe has the right attitude:
businesslike attention to detail. They vet their workers thoroughly.’