Big Damn Hero

24

Inara had seen larger, grander houses in her time, but Hunter Covington’s mansion was impressive nonetheless. It was wedding-cake white and sprawled over two stories, with Doric columns rising to the roof all along its front elevation, creating a broad, shaded porch area. Twenty rooms in the main building at least, she thought, along with a barn-like stable block to one side and a wing adjoining the rear which, to judge by the comparative plainness of its exterior, most likely housed the servants’ quarters.

The grounds were impressive too, if for no other reason than the greenness of the neatly trimmed lawns and shrubbery. The surrounding landscape was arid and harshly brown, dotted here and there with vegetation but more or less desert. To use so much water in such a parched region to irrigate a garden was costly and profligate.

It was early, but in the cool of the morning a gardener was already outdoors, clipping a hedge. He paused from his labors to watch Inara go past. Not five minutes earlier her shuttle had put down in front of the property. The gardener had been curious about that, but not as curious as he was to see a woman who was clearly a Companion sashaying forth. He touched a finger to the brim of his sunhat. Inara rewarded him with one her best and brightest smiles.

She walked up a short flight of steps to the front door, which opened before she had even got a hand to the bellpush.

The person on the other side was not some valet or butler, she knew that at a glance. He was a slab-faced bodyguard type, with a gun on his hip and an insolent, seen-it-all look about him.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Inara Serra. I’m expected.”

“You sure as hell ain’t. Nobody’s expected.”

Her forehead puckered into the slightest of frowns. “To whom am I speaking?”

“Who I am ain’t none of your business, lady,” said the bodyguard.

“Well, is Mr. Covington home?”

“Mr. Covington ain’t home.”

She looked flustered. “There must be some misunderstanding. I have an appointment with him this morning. Eight a.m. sharp. My credentials.”

She showed him her Companion license and registration, etched with the insignia of House Madrassa.

The bodyguard had already figured out her occupation for himself and gave the documents only a cursory glance.

“He’s really not in?” she said.

“Off-planet on business. You sure you have an appointment? Only Mr. Covington, he don’t consort with Companions, best I know. He has himself… alternative outlets for his needs, if you get what I’m saying. Must be there’s been some kinda mix-up.”

Inara was now doing an impersonation of someone very confused and not a little indignant. “Mistakes like this simply don’t happen. I had a firm engagement with Mr. Covington at this hour. It was made over a month ago, and I’ve travelled a long way to be here. If he was going to cancel, he ought to have let me know in advance. I’ve a good mind to report him to the Guild over this. Wasting my time. He’ll be fined at the very least, and if I have my way he’ll be blackballed as well.”

“Yeah, well, sorry about that,” said the bodyguard unapologetically.

Inara insinuated herself into the doorway, so that he could not easily close the door on her. “May I make a small request?” He didn’t say no, so she continued, “I’ve been in my shuttle nearly three days straight. The water tanks are running low and, frankly, I could do with freshening up. Is there a bathroom nearby I could use? I promise I won’t be more than five minutes. You’d be doing me such a favor.”

No one was impervious to Inara Serra’s charm when she turned it on full blast. Age, gender, sexual inclination, professional obligation, none of it made any difference. A person’s inner barriers simply melted like ice under a blowtorch.

The bodyguard could have no more refused her request than he could have forbidden the tide from turning or the sun from setting.

“I dunno…”

“Please?”

Whatever last few misgivings he had evaporated. “Okay. It’s down this way. Follow me.”

“You’re too kind… Do you have a name?”

“Walter.”

“Walter, you’re too kind.”

Walter couldn’t help himself. A smile of appreciation plucked at the corners of his meaty mouth.

Inara entered a huge hallway with a curved, sweeping staircase and teak floorboards polished to such a gleam they dazzled the eyes. The downstairs bathroom had gold and marble fittings. Inara ran the faucets a while and made some minor adjustments to her elaborate, kabuki-inflected makeup in the mirror. She was steeling herself for what she had to do next.

Walter the bodyguard was waiting right outside as she re-emerged.

“I’ll be leaving now,” she said. “Do tell Mr. Covington that I was disappointed to have missed him. I’m still unhappy about the unannounced cancellation, but your courtesy, Walter, has gone a long way to allaying my feelings of offense. Oh. You appear to have something on your neck. A speck of lint, it looks like. May I?”

Not allowing him to grant permission, or even to try to remove the lint himself, Inara reached up and brushed the side of his thick neck.

Walter touched the spot where her fingers had just been. A small knot formed between his eyebrows.

“Feels odd,” he said. “Like my skin’s gone numb.”

“A Companion’s touch has been known to have all sorts of effects,” Inara said.

“Yeah, but this ain’t…” His eyes swam in their sockets. His body swayed. “What the hell’d you just do to me, you witch?” he said slurringly.

“It’s a fast-acting, skin-contact sedative, Walter. An hour from now you’ll wake up with a raging headache and a powerful thirst, but otherwise unharmed.”

He made to grab for her but the action was feeble and uncoordinated. His legs were buckling under him. He could barely stay standing.

“Companions have these little tricks,” Inara continued, “in case a client gets aggressive or otherwise fails to observe the rules. Now why don’t you just sit down over there?” She guided him towards a gilt chair. “More comfortable than simply collapsing to the floor.”

Walter sat heavily. His eyelids drooped. His head sagged.

“Shou’ ne’er ha’ trust… a whorrr…”

The words trailed off, to be replaced by deep snoring.

“And because you called me that,” Inara said to his unconscious form, “I have even fewer qualms about doing what I just did.”

She peeled off the oval-shaped transparent patch on the tip of her index finger. It was an impermeable membrane coated on one side with a dose of the sedative. All of the drug should have transferred itself to Walter but she was careful nonetheless as she rolled up the membrane and slipped it into a pocket.

At that moment, a maid entered the hallway carrying a stack of folded towels. She took one look at Inara, and at the slumped, snoozing Walter, and her face fell in astonishment. She seemed on the brink of yelling.

Inara hurried towards her, adopting a mask of anxiety. “Help me,” she said. “This man just collapsed. I don’t know what’s happened. I think he’s unwell.”

The maid was unconvinced. “I don’t know who you are, lady, or what you’re doing here, but we’re told to be wary of all strangers, even fancily dressed ones.”

“I imagine so. For what it’s worth, I mean you no harm. That said, I can’t have you screaming the house down either.”

She was now only arm’s distance from the maid. There was no time for finesse or subtlety. She struck her a blow to the carotid with the edge of her hand like a sideways ax chop. The blow briefly interrupted the blood supply to the maid’s brain and stunned her temporarily, long enough for Inara to deliver a second deftly aimed jab to the vagus nerve in her neck. Instant insensibility ensued. Inara caught the maid as she fell, then dragged her to the doorway through which she had entered.

In a laundry room, amid shelves piled high with clothes and fresh linen, she laid the maid out on the floor, then went back into the hallway to fetch the towels the woman had dropped. She rolled up one of them and placed it beneath the maid’s head. Like Walter, the maid would wake up with a headache but at least a stiff neck wouldn’t be a problem.

Compassion was one of a Companion’s strongest suits, even when it came to visiting violence on others.