House of Cards

CHAPTER 14

"He’s expecting you this morning." The security guard gave Margrit a brief smile and nodded toward the elevators.

"Yeah." She returned the smile tiredly as she passed by. "I bet he is." After Biali left her on her rooftop, she’d turned down Cameron and Cole’s invitation to go out, opting for sleep instead. Emotional exhaustion had left her without memorable dreams, though she’d awakened once with the sensation of flying. The alarm clock had been incomprehensible and unwelcome, only making sense after several minutes of progressively noisier beeping. It still seemed very early as she took the elevator up to Daisani’s offices.

The front room-Vanessa’s massive office-was abandoned, but the oversize double doors leading into Daisani’s were ajar. Certain he would’ve heard the elevator chime and her heels against the hardwood floor, Margrit rapped twice before stepping inside.

Daisani, a finger lifted in warning, turned from overlooking the city, then tapped his earpiece with the same finger. Margrit nodded and helped herself to one of the couches at the far end of his office, too worn-out to stand on ceremony. A crystal jug and glasses sat on the coffee table, suggesting Daisani had indeed anticipated her early-morning arrival. Margrit leaned forward, eyes half-closed as she poured herself a glass of water. After a moment Daisani said his goodbyes and lifted his voice. "Forgive me, Margrit. I didn’t expect you quite this early. Working on tomorrow’s business already, I’m afraid. If you’d like to be very rich by next weekend, I’d consider buying up some stock in the-"

"Mr. Daisani," Margrit said, half in despair. "I’m a lawyer. Just stop right there."

"You and your mother," Daisani said cheerfully as he came to sit across from her. "How is Rebecca, by the way?"

"She’s going to be very surprised to hear I’m working for you." The necessity of being alert enough to banter finally warmed Margrit’s blood, pushing off some of her weariness. "Maybe even more surprised than I was, although I’m not sure that’s possible."

"Was that not the purpose of your visit yesterday?" Daisani poured himself a glass of water, his smile as sparkling as the crystal. "Did I not do as you asked?"

"It was, and you did, but-"

"Wonderful. The corporation is hosting a gala tomorrow night in the ballroom downstairs. A thank-you to our good friend Mr. Kaaiai, for the generosity he’s showing the city in funding security and restoration of the subway speakeasy." Nothing obvious changed in Daisani’s smile or delivery, but hairs rose on Margrit’s arms as an undercurrent of alarm swept through her. "I’d like you to attend," he asked. "It can be your coming-out party, as it were. Your first public appearance as the new face of Daisani Incorporated."

"My-as the-what?" She blinked in astonishment. "Mr. Daisani-"

"Not that there’s anything wrong with the old face," Daisani said modestly. "But you’re fresh, young, beautiful-"

"And you have a burning desire to have your company represented by a sellout? Mr. Daisani, I-"

"Eliseo," he said, as magnanimous as he’d been modest. "We’re going to be very close, after all."

Margrit tried not to grind her teeth. "Eliseo. I can’t come work for you under these circumstances. For one thing, I’d be a laughingstock, and that’s the nicest word I can think of for it. Opportunistic bitch is closer, and even that’s being kind. I’ve got a career at Legal Aid, and I need to be there for my friends and coworkers. Quitting now would be ugly."

"Don’t be silly. A murder occurred in your offices. No one would blame you for walking away. Besides, it was your idea."

"I didn’t know Russell had been murdered when I made that proposition!"

"You’re a lawyer, Miss Knight. You should know the folly of making a bargain without having all the information in hand."

She sat back, feeling the color drain from her face. "That’s a low blow."

"Yes." He spoke without the slightest hint of repentance. "Yes, it is, but the circumstances aren’t extenuating. You came here to make a cold-blooded deal to save your own skin, my dear, and nothing has altered that situation."

"So you get everything you want for free, and I can’t back out? You said you weren’t behind killing Janx’s men."

"I don’t think you fully understand." Daisani got up with the inhuman smoothness Margrit was becoming accustomed to. "It’s true I haven’t put hits out on Janx’s people, but I’ve taken on Malik’s safety as my full responsibility regardless, and I’ve done so at your behest. If anyone, human or otherwise, should be so foolish as to assassinate him, I will use the full force of my resources to eliminate that person or persons. In more time than you can imagine, I have never offered such protection to one of my rival’s people. If I withdraw it now, Janx will see it as an act of cowardice, and strike against me, or he will see it as an act of mockery, and will strike against me. Either way, Margrit Knight, it will begin a war."

"I thought the Old Races didn’t fight wars among themselves." Alban had told her that, historically, they hadn’t, their numbers always too small to risk all-out battle.

"The Old Races don’t make this sort of alliance, either. You seem to have more of an ability to rock our foundations than even I anticipated."

"So why’d you say yes?" Margrit shook her head. "If agreeing to my terms shifts the status quo that much, why play along? I can’t be that important. Other humans know about you. There’s Chelsea Huo. There’s…" She fell silent, uncertain of who else might share their secrets.

Daisani shot her a look of complex amusement. "Chelsea. Yes. Chelsea’s tongue is too sharp for my tastes, Margrit. I have no desire to be under its lash day in and day out, even if I could draw her away from her books."

"I guess that tells me how to get out of this."

He chuckled. "It wouldn’t be that simple. Vanessa had her edges, as well. You by yourself aren’t important, perhaps, but you’ve upset a balance that Janx and I have held between us for centuries. You’ve involved Alban in the world again, and anyone capable of drawing him from the granite shell he’s been wrapped in is worth noting. I would prefer having him in my grasp, truth be told, but he would make a terrible personal assistant. I’d have to shift all my meetings to nighttime, and despite my people’s reputation, I rather enjoy a stroll in the sunlight."

"Why does he matter? You and Janx are both obsessed with him." Margrit stilled the impulse to put her water glass aside and get up to pace, suddenly afraid that movement would turn Daisani’s predatory eye on her, as if she were a rabbit beneath a circling eagle.

He smiled. "I’d suggest asking him, but he wouldn’t tell you. Which, in its cryptic way, answers the question. The details aren’t important, Margrit. What is whether or not you intend to keep your word."

"My word." She laughed sharply. "I didn’t give you my word. I barely even touched on my plan before you dropped a bombshell on me. I sure as hell didn’t come here this morning to tell you I was taking the job."

"No? Did you come to tell me you weren’t?"

Embarrassment and guilt seized her, making her drop her gaze. Daisani chuckled again and returned to his seat. "One never enjoys being caught posturing, does one?"

"I’m not posturing." Her throat constricted further, turning the words to a whispered protest. "I made- dammit." She looked up, jaw set with frustrated resolution. "When I came here yesterday to make that bargain it was in good faith. Yes, it was in good faith because I’m in between a rock and a hard place, and couldn’t see another way out, but I’m doing the best I can. And you’re right. Russell’s death doesn’t change the mess I’m in with the Old Races." She got to her feet after all and paced toward the windows. "But I feel like I have different obligations to my real life now."

"Your real life." She could hear the curiosity in the vampire’s modulated tones. "What is this, then? A figment of your truly remarkable imagination?"

Margrit turned back, arms folded under her breasts. "This is the life I can’t talk about to anyone. It’s the world I got myself involved in without really appreciating how hard it would be to protect someone who wasn’t human from humans. Everything I do with any of you happens behind this huge facade. I could almost justify taking a job with you before Russell died. Now…Jesus, I don’t know. On the one hand, you’ve got a good point about someone being murdered in the office, and me wanting to get out of there. On the other, anyone who knows me is going to have a hard time believing I decided to run away instead of investigating and trying to make sense of what happened. They won’t believe I’m willing to abandon Legal Aid, my principles, my work, my life, after my mentor’s death. I’m not sure I’d believe it."

"Then investigate." Daisani spread his hands at her astonished double take. "If it’s an image of consistency that’s distressing you, Margrit, then by all means, investigate. Help your fellow lawyers put themselves back together and mourn Mr. Lomax properly. Discover the truth. But don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ll earn Lomax’s job as your reward. You’re far too young and pretty. If you were fifteen years older and your beauty had matured as well as your mother’s has, you might seize that brass ring, but not now."

The insult sent heat rising in her cheeks. "You think I only want to find out what happened to further my career?"

"Of course not. I’m sure you’re genuinely determined to see Lomax’s murderer be found and brought to justice. And if you remained in public service, that dedication might pay off, a decade or two down the road. But you did come here to make a bargain, Miss Knight, and I’ve accepted it. I would think a week or two of transition time would be appropriate even if Russell hadn’t died, so I’m willing to take that as writ now. Pursue that case to your satisfaction. But attend Saturday’s party, and do so as a member of my corporation."

Margrit stared at the dapper vampire a few seconds, then rolled her jaw and nodded as she recognized a window of opportunity. "All right. Okay, you win. My turn. You’ve got an appointment tonight."

Daisani’s eyebrows rose. "And who has arranged this?"

"Your new personal assistant. Kaimana Kaaiai would like to meet with you at the Rockefeller Center at eight o’clock. I said you’d be there." Perspiration made her hands clammy, but Margrit kept her gaze steady.

"Did you. And what does Kaaiai wish to discuss with me?"

"I don’t really know. Something important about all of you." Margrit circled a finger in the air, indicating the Old Races. "You’re not going to make a liar of me, are you?"

Daisani pursed his mouth, watching her warily. "I suppose not, Miss Knight, but I’ll expect you to come with me. This is just the sort of social engagement Vanessa used to attend with me. It puts a polite veneer on things."

Margrit nodded stiffly. "I’ll meet you there."

Daisani chuckled. "That wasn’t intended as a negotiation."

"I’m a lawyer, Mr. Daisani. Everything’s a negotiation." She took a deep breath and drew herself up. "My boss was just murdered. I told my housemates I was thinking about coming to work for you. My life has been totally disrupted. I need to go home after work and be normal for a little while. I’m neck deep in your world, but I’ve also still got to live in mine. To live in it, not just drift through every once in a while. I’m having a hard enough time balancing all of this. Don’t take the life I used to have away from me. Isolated animals get sick and die of broken hearts."

"Falling ill is not an issue that should concern you any longer, Margrit."

"I’m betting even a vampire’s blood doesn’t keep hearts from breaking. I need my friends. I need my life. Maybe Vanessa learned to do without those things, but I’m not her."

"No," Daisani said after a moment. "No, you certainly are not. Very well, Miss Knight. You may return to your family." Mocking came into his eyes and he produced a flourish, an elegant bend and dip of his hands so elaborate Margrit half expected a prize to be pulled from his sleeve. Instead he held his thumb and forefinger a delicate fraction of an inch apart and extended his hand. "Take this rose, and return to me before the last petal falls. If you do not-"

Margrit reached out and plucked the intangible rose from his fingertips, so sure and swift it felt as though there was no make-believe in the gesture at all. "Then when I do return the castle will have fallen and the Beast will have perished. Thank you for my freedom, my lord." She ducked her head over the illusory flower and inhaled.

The scent of roses lingered in the back of her throat as she left the building.

Work was quiet chaos. Margrit moved from one task to another with mindless efficiency, accomplishing more than usual in order to prevent herself from thinking about the yellow police tape cordoning off Russell’s office. An entire section of the department was closed down to make room for police work. Tony, back on duty, gave her a grim nod when she came in, as if promising to come talk to her when he could.

Her coworkers-those who were there; a noticeable number were out-seemed to be caught in the same web of necessity Margrit was, silently focusing on work for extended periods. Caseloads were shifted around, no one objecting when they might have normally. The quiet was interrupted in waves, sudden bursts of conversation that faded away into new flurries of activity. Once someone laughed, then cut it off in a gasp of guilt. Margrit got up after that, abandoning paperwork to hurry downstairs and out to the street, where city sounds drowned out the uncomfortable pall of the office.

A woeful Sam leaned against the building, studying the sky. Margrit went over to lean next to him. "Couldn’t take it anymore, either, huh?"

"This wasn’t how the first week of work was supposed to go. I couldn’t take watching people make a break for the door when they couldn’t take it anymore. I’m right there at the front. Everybody had to go by me and nobody’s looking at anybody today."

Margrit nodded. "I didn’t make it to the office yesterday. Was it bad?"

"Yeah." Sam knuckled his fingers over his mouth. "A lot of people went home. Pretty much anybody who didn’t have a court case to argue or something major to prepare for. Cops were all over the place, interviewing everybody. How’d your case go?"

"I lost. I just hope he doesn’t get an appeal based on my incompetence."

"I’m sure he won’t." Sam gave her a wan smile, then tilted his head at the street. "I’m going to get a cup of coffee. Want to join me?"

"No, thanks. I just needed a minute outside. I’m going to head back in."

"Okay." He pushed off from the wall and disappeared into sidewalk traffic. Margrit took a deep breath, straightened away from the wall and turned, to nearly collide with Tony.

"Whoa." He caught her shoulders, then pulled her into a hug. "Sorry. You okay?"

"Better now." Margrit held for on a moment, breathing in his scent. "How’s it going?"

"Different degrees of crap. You got a couple minutes? I can tell you what I know. Well, you know what I mean."

"You can tell me what you’re allowed to." Margrit crooked a smile at the tall cop, feeling a sudden surge of confusion. Their jobs both precluded telling each other everything and always had. Her inability to talk about the Old Races seemed abruptly normal, as though it were simply another obvious part of the constraints of their jobs, and she found herself wondering how it had created the schism it had between them. As she’d told Cameron, it was almost impossible not to like Tony, and it seemed as though she was remembering that for the first time in months. "I love you, you know that?"

Surprised pleasure lit Tony’s face. "Haven’t heard it for a while. What brought that on?"

"I don’t know. Finding my feet on the ground all of a sudden, maybe." There was no pang of regret at the idea. The months she’d spent disbelieving Alban’s absence had kept her untethered. Now that he’d distanced himself from her so sharply, it seemed she might be able to get on with her life. She could find a way to manage both worlds, if she thought of the Old Races as a client whose confidentiality couldn’t be breached. "I’ve got a few minutes. What do you know?"

"More than I ever wanted to about Russell." Tony sighed and tugged Margrit up the building’s outside stairs, sitting down with her and lacing his fingers through hers. "Did you know he used to be a stockbroker?"

"He said something about making money in stocks the night before he died." Margrit shook her head at the awkward construction of her sentence. "I mean, not that he made money the night…you know what I mean. I was giving him a hard time about how well he dresses. Dressed."

"Yeah." Tony squeezed her hand and smiled. "Anyway, yeah, he worked for Global Brokers Incorporated way back when and made a killing. There was some talk about insider trading, but nothing ever got proved. I guess we’re going to have to look into it if we don’t find anything closer to home."

Margrit straightened, surprised. "GBI, that’s my mother’s company. I wonder-no, she couldn’t have known him. She never mentioned it. Small world, though."

"I swear, if you get me singing that song…." Tony bared his teeth threateningly. "Anyway, he went to law school after striking it rich. We’ve had people working on his case histories and comparing them to recent parolees." He hesitated so long that Margrit frowned.

"You found a link, didn’t you."

"Not…no. Not like you’re thinking. Nobody handy who just got out of jail and came to repay the piper. But you wouldn’t-I’m not telling you this, Grit, you know that, right?"

"Telling me what?" She made a moue of innocence.

Tony nodded. "Okay. I know cases get overturned on appeal all the time."

"Yeah…?"

"Yeah. So you wouldn’t believe the number of overturned cases where Russell was the first line of defense for somebody who worked for Janx. He lost so many cases it can’t be coincidence, Grit. Something like ninety percent of them got overturned on appeal."

Cold ran down Margrit’s spine and chilled her hands until Tony’s felt like a furnace. "Janx?"

"There’s no way I’d be telling you this if…" Tony exhaled. "If you hadn’t met him in January. If I hadn’t gotten you into that. But I did and you did, and I’m kinda freaked out seeing a connection between your boss and a pretty major crimelord. I don’t know what enemy of Janx’s Russell was working for, but man, that’s what it looks like to me, Grit. So I gotta ask. Do you know anything that could help us out?"

Every heartbeat sent a new wave of ice splashing over Margrit’s skin. Two minutes earlier she’d thought she could manage the split between her ordinary world and the Old Races. Now the two crashed over her again, leaving her with no way to answer Tony without potentially betraying an entire people. She pulled her hand from his and hid her face, hearing a laugh that bordered on a sob break from her throat. "Are you sure? How do you know these guys worked for Janx?"

"Some of them have turned up dead recently," Tony said grimly. "People we’ve seen associating with him. But more of them-Grit, I’ve been working the Janx angle for years. I know that guy’s organization better than he does. I know all the arrests that’ve been made in conjunction with him. There’s probably only three guys on the force who would see a pattern here, but I’m seeing it. It’s one of those detail things that’s more gut instinct than logic."

"Russell used to say somebody had to keep track of the details, and he was the best man for the job. Somebody else said that to me, too…Oh." Margrit raised sightless eyes to stare over the street, a host of trivial moments cascading together and forming a picture.

Eliseo Daisani had used the same phrase the first time she’d met him, infusing it with humor and self-deprecation. One point didn’t make a line, but there had been peculiar notes in Daisani’s conversation the morning before. Shock and grief had wiped it from her mind, but he had said "you came here to ask me that?" when she’d asked if he’d known about the murders, and then said, "Yes. Of course. I see why you would, under the circumstances." It had been meaningless to her then, but thrown against the context of Russell losing court cases for Janx’s people, it now stood out.

"I know that look, Grit. What’re you thinking?"

She pressed her lips together until they ached. "What I’m thinking could be a huge embarrassment to the police department if I’m wrong. Can I…can you give me an hour or two to follow up on it, Tony?"

"Shit, Margrit." He stood and she followed suit, the two of them eyeing each other without pleasure. "You’ll tell me if it pans out? We need anything we can get." He pushed his hand through his hair and glanced toward the Legal Aid building. "That’s why I’m even here. I’m supposed to be on Kaaiai all week and instead I’m pulling double duty because a couple of those names brought up red flags on our Janx file."

"Oh, God, I forgot. When have you been sleeping?"

"Caught a nap at the station this morning. Grit, are you going to give me what you’ve got?" Tony turned his attention back to her, wary expectation in his gaze. A sizzle of guilt shot through Margrit as she recognized the same pattern of withholding information she’d displayed in January reemerging.

"If it turns out to be anything, I will, Tony, I swear. But believe me, you don’t want to shake the tree I’m thinking of if you don’t have an ironclad reason to. I don’t even want to put ideas in your head."

"All right." Tony nodded, as if he knew that Margrit wouldn’t offer up her thoughts until she was ready to. She caught his hand and held it a moment in apology, irrationally stung when he gently pulled away. "You do your thing, Grit. Tell me if you can."

"I will. I will, Tony, I promise." The words had too much familiar deception. Margrit ducked her head again and hurried down the steps. When she looked back a moment later, Tony was gazing after her, unhappy resignation creasing his features.