Audacious

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The limo was everything Kris expected, and quite a bit more. It had a bed! When the driver saw that Kris's entourage included two couples and six hulking Marines in dress red and blues as well as two women marines in ball gowns, he made the bed disappear and jump seats appear.

There were sounds of sadness at the change, but Kris was careful not to note where that noise came from. There are some things an officer does not need to know.

Especially when the noise comes from her fellow officers.

Marine escorts pulled up ahead and behind the limo, adding to Kris's security. The driver did not seem surprised when one of Kris's Marines settled in on the seat next to him.

The drive to the National Gallery of the Arts took longer than Kris had expected. It was north of town, along the river in a park. The limo driver seemed to think his job included a running commentary on the local scene…or he figured to wreak some revenge on his passengers by boring them with trivia.

''Local soccer leagues use the sports fields as well as track and cross-country racings. We have an annual marathon that people come from light-years away to run in.''

Kris had a hard time buying that.

''On your right are the National Rose Gardens. We have every variation of rose in abundance.'' And at that, the air in the limo took on a whiff of rose scent.

''And the Japanese Gardens to your left''—which directed Kris to a hilly affair—''are renown even on Yamato. Eden hired away Yamato's most expensive gardener for several years to lay out the design and implement it.''

Leaving Kris to wonder if the most expensive was also the most respected. Rarely were they.

''Notice the fields of fire,'' Jack whispered in Kris's ear.

She nodded, the wide expanse of playing fields gave easy search of the approaches to the huge gray building ahead.

''The rose gardens?'' Kris said.

''Fully under observation and easy to trim with automatic weapons fire,'' Jack offered.

''Roses do have a propensity to grow back,'' Penny offered.

And a poor rose harvest for a year or two was a small price to pay for the lives of your political elite.

Maybe Inspector Johnson was right. This was no place for ''them'' to ''kill them all.''

So why didn't that make Kris's stomach feel better.

The limo entered a large expanse of crushed rock in front of the Gallery. A huge fountain filled the center of it. A group of horses and figures spewed water in all directions.

''This is an exact replica of a fountain on the grounds of the Palace of Versailles outside Paris on Earth,'' the driver said. Which might explain the secretary's mistake about their final goal. ''The actual building is an expanded replica of the National Gallery of Art in Washington on Earth. The Gallery of the Arts here covers most of the ground and main floor.

''The floors above it are the official residence of the President of Eden.''

''All Eden?'' Kris asked.

''Well, if you insist, the American nation on Eden. But it amounts to the same,'' he said with unquestioning chauvinism.

Kris eyed the marble building. A ground floor. Stone steps leading up to the large portico in front of the main floor. There were at least two floors above that. Maybe a couple more, depending on how the roof was used.

Plenty of rooms to hide in if the upper floors were as divided up as the lower ones. But if they had guns and you had none, any running might only delay the inevitable.

But Kris did have guns and was ready for a fight.

Tonight looked to be interesting.

Jack handed her out of the limo onto the commander's arm, then helped Penny. She took a moment to arrange the fall of her dress. The Marines and their ladies followed quickly.

Kris looked around. She saw men and women in formal evening dress. But nothing to get alarmed about.

There was no sign of the ambassador, but by now, he should be far to the head of the line. She joined the official procession and began to climb—in three-inch heels.

''Isn't that the Longknife woman?'' Grant von Schrader said from the west portico where he watched the arrival of future corpses.

Topaz had also been watching the arrivals, making catty comments on this or that dress. Now she focused on the column of what could only be soldiers being led by the woman in the tight red dress.

''So that is her? I've never seen her.''

''Yes, you can always tell by the uniforms around her. Only, usually it's a Marine beside her. One of those in blue and red. Now she's got someone in white and blue.''

''Guess my daughter's rich employer can't keep a man.''

''Speaking of your daughter, now might be a good time to get Cara out of wherever she's run off to. Why don't you call her now, and ask her to come home while you're out? She could be asleep when you get in tonight.''

''Cara has a phone?'' her grandmother said.

Grant gave her the number of the new unit.

Topaz made a show of considering Grant's suggestion, but as she always did, she obeyed. She moved a distance away on the balcony and made the call. For a minute, Grant was treated to the discord of grandmother-granddaughter argument, but when Topaz rang off, she seemed pleased with herself.

''She is headed home. We'll talk in the morning.''

''Young girls need firm guidance,'' Grant assured her. And notched off another requirement for tonight.

Another limo came to a stop. Another pair of sacrificial cattle dismounted. Grant added them to the list of obits that would not be on tomorrow's news.

The list was filling in nicely.