Furious

13

Which left Kris moving, but with no fewer questions. Where was she going? How would she get there? And what would she do when she arrived?

Senior Chief Inspector Martinez took Kris and Penny back down the elevator. Somehow, Inspector Johnson detached himself and vanished. At the bottom of the elevator, the small army of heavily armed police were gone. So were all the black SUVs.

In their place stood a simple green sedan. On closer observation, Kris corrected her initial impression. The tires were oversize, and when she boarded it, it stayed solid as a tank. When she hit the button, and the window rolled down, the glass was three centimeters thick.

Penny nodded with approval.

Martinez himself took the driver’s seat. Then a light gray car, very much the twin of Kris’s green one, pulled up. Martinez lowered his window; the other car lowered the passenger-side window. Inspector Johnson asked, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll know when we get there,” Martinez answered. “Who’s driving?”

“Someone I trust. I didn’t even give him time to call the wife and explain why he’d be missing dinner.”

There was an audible complaint from the driver. Something along the line of this is the third time this month, and it was only the sixth. “Estella is really getting tired of this.”

“That’s what you get for being a good cop,” both police officers said.

“Poor kid will get no sympathy here,” Penny muttered through a grin.

“Follow me,” Martinez said, the window came up, and they took off at a proper civilian speed. The gray car followed at a proper civilian interval.

“Where are we going?” Kris asked.

“Officially, you are in one of six SUVs headed for a safe house. A young policewoman, not quite as tall as you, fully armored, is taking your place as target.”

“God have mercy on her,” Penny prayed.

“I agree. We, however, are headed for my house.”

“Your house! Won’t that be dangerous for your family?” Kris asked.

“Yes, but my wife’s been wanting to meet you, and there’s someone else who does, too. So I’m taking you where I figure no one will look for you. Okay?”

“I guess,” Kris said.

“So, are you protected?” the senior chief inspector asked.

“She’s not even wearing her spider-silk underwear,” Penny snorted.

“Things were peaceful on Madigan’s Rainbow,” Kris offered as an excuse.

“She was drinking again and putting on weight,” Penny corrected. “She probably couldn’t fit into her silk armor.”

Kris gave Penny a nasty look but didn’t disagree.

“There are vests under the backseat, Penny. Please get one out for Her Highness.”

Penny did and tossed it to Kris. Then Penny pulled out a second one and put it on while Kris did the same with hers.

“There,” Kris said. “You both happy?”

“Satisfied,” the senior inspector said. “I won’t be happy until I see you walking away from me and Eden.” The rest of the drive was silent.

Their destination was an adobe brick building with red roof tiles and an attached garage. The door opened automatically; they drove right in. Kris was able to dismount with no one outside the wiser.

“Johnson will park halfway down the block and keep an eye on us,” Martinez said as he opened the door and led Kris into the house through the washroom and kitchen. His wife, a pleasant-looking woman, stood in the living room with two boys beside her.

Kris recognized one of them. “Bronc, you and your mother were supposed to be on your way to Hurtford.”

The teenager had the good sense to look embarrassed. “I was, but I didn’t want to go,” he said.

Martinez took over the explanation. “He vanished a day before he was supposed to leave. With him nowhere to be seen, his mom balked. He turned up, right where I figured he would, back in Five Corners, hanging with a couple of his hacker friends.”

The kid gave an expressive shrug as in, “Where else would I be.”

“I got his mother a job working for one of the socialites you saved. It was amazing how grateful those folks were, for the first month or so. Problem was, her job’s pay was mainly room and board, and there was no room for a teenager, so Carmella and I took him in. He’s been going to school with Esteban, and learning like a house afire. Now, don’t you kids have homework or something?”

Carmella took the hint and herded the boys out of the room. Juan waved Kris to the couch and took what clearly was the Papa chair. When he continued, it was in a whisper. “Bronc’s schoolwork is only sharpening his computer skills. I’m not sure he’s a good influence on Esteban or the rest of his classmates. But it was Bronc and his hacker buddies from the old neighborhood, working with Esteban’s classmates, who initially turned up the hints that something was wrong as we went into our first election since the one we had to have after your last visit.”

The senior chief inspector shrugged. “I didn’t know whether to buy them new computers or ground them. So I did both and turned what they’d found over to my police computer-forensic team. By the way, when the Marines marched out on your ship after that past ‘unpleasantness,’ several of the computers you bought for your own investigation turned up with Bronc’s friends. I hope you don’t mind.”

“If it helped you in your more recent ‘unpleasantness,’” Kris said, “they earned their keep. But tell me, without going into all the gory details, what happened here?”

Nelly made one of her polite coughs before interjecting, “I’ll dig into all the ‘gory details,’ as Her Highness so delicately put it. Do you mind if I access what’s on Bronc’s and Esteban’s hard drives?”

“Feel free to talk with them about it as well. I doubt if either one of them is getting any homework done tonight.” Kris felt the slight vacancy in her head as she often did when Nelly concentrated her attention elsewhere.

“Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?” coming from Juan told Kris she was in for a long night.

“Tea, if you have any that’s not caffeinated.”

“I think Estella keeps some herbal tea,” he said as he headed for the kitchen, and Kris followed.

“My wife reads minds,” Juan said as he spotted the already warm teakettle and packets of tea laid out, ready for them to chose from. “She knows I like something warm in my hand when I have to talk about hot topics.”

They both chuckled at that.

Tea in hand, they settled at a friendly dinner table—simple and just right for a family meal. Growing up, Kris’s meals had been served in a cold, palatial setting, with nothing warm and friendly about them. When she could, she’d slip away and have supper with the cook and her husband.

These surroundings reminded Kris of those easier meals. Somehow, however, she doubted that the talk around the table tonight would be warm or simple.

“What are you setting me up for?” Kris asked.

“Unpleasant truths,” the senior inspector said.

“I’ve been hit over the head with plenty of them. Hit away.”

“The attack tonight bothers me,” the police officer said. “I thought we had you locked up behind solid security. Yes, we had two arrest warrants for you, but the president doesn’t want to serve either one of them. It will be embarrassing if it becomes common knowledge that we had you in our control and let you go.”

“So it wasn’t just my safety that was at stake but your government’s embarrassment,” Kris pointed out.

“Worse. We don’t want to get on the bad side of both our king and Wardhaven.”

“Hold it. You said you had two arrest warrants. One from my Grampa Ray and one from my father?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t sound right. I know I didn’t get much outside news on Madigan’s Rainbow, but . . .” Kris tried to think this piece of news through, and gave up. “What’s been going on while I was locked away in Siberian ice?”

“It’s hard to put it into a few words, Kris, but let’s say the Articles of Confederation for the, ah, something or other, is causing a lot of confusion. Lots of legal challenges are working their way to the newly established Supreme Court, but lots of planetary judiciaries are already refusing to accept any legal decisions they don’t agree with. You noticed that the president used the term ‘Union of Societies.’”

“Yes, he and Inspector Johnson.”

“Alex says whatever the powers that be are saying,” Juan scoffed. “However, since, as the president told you, your great-grandpadre is pretty simpatico about raising taxes to mobilize a fleet, there are a whole lot of people suddenly a whole lot less interested in being one of the hundred and seventy-three planets in the U.S. Unless, of course, they can replace King Ray with someone of their choosing.”

“It sounds like a mess.”

“Or worse.”

“Hold it,” Kris said, a thought rising to the surface of an otherwise-bubbling-and-confused mind. “If your president is so down on the central government, what was this effort at trying to get a different government on Eden?”

“I have no idea,” Juan said. “We are not the worst, Kris. We are kind of in the middle. If I’m reading the takeover correctly . . . and there was a whole lot of confusion about just what they wanted to do . . . they intended to take us out of the Union.”

“Grampa Al is taking political action against his father?” Kris had to say the words. Her mind was refusing even to hold on to the idea.

“It sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

“To say the least. And you think the assassination attempt tonight was from my Grampa Al?”

Juan shrugged. “I was prepared for someone who’d lost a loved one in your fleet to maybe take a potshot at you, but that doesn’t appear to be the case. Those were hired killers. They obviously didn’t act alone. Someone had to leak your itinerary, and someone else had to pay these guys. As much as I hate to say it, this was either the actions of someone who was trying to curry favor with Alexander Longknife after having failed miserably to subvert Eden and used what money and access was left over.”

Juan paused here. He took a sip of his tea and looked Kris square in the eye. “Or your grandpadre ordered a hit on you.”

Juan let the silence stretch before adding. “Do you know your grandpadre well?”

Kris shook her head. “No. Once he and father argued about staying in politics, Grampa Al pretty much disappeared from my life.”

Kris let the thought roll around in her skull. She’d gotten used to the idea that Henry Smythe-Peterwald XII wanted her dead and would pay a princely sum for her splattered body. She’d come to terms with the idea that the odd-and-sod soldier or Sailor might shoot her or blow her out of space. That’s what happened to people who chose the Navy for a profession.

But her own grandfather!

It had to be a mistake. Or bad choices by some underling. Flesh and blood did not turn on flesh and blood.

Then Kris connected a few more dots of her puzzle. “You say both my father’s Wardhaven government and my great-grandfather’s royal government issued a warrant for my arrest?”

“Yes,” Juan said.

“Two arrest warrants and one killer for hire. That covers my whole family.”

Juan gave Kris an expressive shrug. “It certainly looks like it could be that way.”

“And your president wants you to put me on a slow boat or a fast boat to Wardhaven, huh?”

“Yes. I have two choices for you. Both leave tomorrow. One is a small corvette, the Dainty, similar to your old Typhoon. Only Eden never bought into the Smart Metal stuff, so our accommodations are always small and cramped. The other is a container ship that also has facilities for passengers, folks in a hurry who want to go now, not when the next liner leaves. Which one interests you?”

“What are the benefits of one over the other?” Kris asked.

Juan chewed on his lower lip. “If you take the Dainty, you are on Eden sovereign territory and if you are met by a Marshal, either U.S. or Wardhaven, with an arrest warrant at the pier, you can stay on board, or not, your choice.”

“You’re ready to claim that a U.S. ship is the sovereign territory of the planet it comes from?” Maybe things were worse for King Ray than she thought.

“Yes, our ships have those orders. You have to understand, there is no legal precedent, yet. And it would be more than embarrassing for our president if the first time we took that stand was between you and your family.”

“I imagine so.” Kris had a strong suspicion that if push came to shove, she’d be shoved out the air lock.

Hopefully onto the dock at High Wardhaven station and not into vacant space, but she wasn’t taking bets on which just now.

Kris swallowed hard, and asked, “And what’s the other option?”

“The Yellow Comet of the Comet lines. Her captain, Sam Tidings, owes you. You rescued his daughter. She was a docent at that charity art auction you attended. The one that got shot up. You and your man, Captain Montoya, fell on top of her and protected her from the auto cannon.”

“Yes,” Kris said. She remembered the big-breasted Samantha Tidings. Jack had thrown himself on her and hadn’t even bounced. Both Kris and Jack had taken a lot of cannon fire. And had been black-and-blue and hurting for quite a while after. Body armor, at least what they’d had at the time, stopped bullets. It left the bullet’s energy to be absorbed by the flesh below.

One or two shots were no problem. An auto cannon on full automatic was something else entirely.

“I take it that Tidings’s Yellow Comet makes no claim to sovereignty?”

“All too true,” Juan said, “but the accommodations are much better, and he brags about his chefs.”

“Any suggestions how I get aboard unnoticed?”

“I have a few.”