The Dreams of Andromeda (The Imperium Chronicles Book 4)

by W. H. Mitchell

  "Hmmm," she muttered. "Sounds more like they have you in their back pocket."

  "It's warm and dry there," he replied. "You should try it sometime."

  "I'd rather not..."

  "But in all seriousness," Vincent said, "your family expects certain things from you and my family expects the same from me. Either way, I'm compelled to vote for Tagus."

  Olivia blew a raspberry, which was the last thing Vincent expected.

  "Lady Olivia!" he said. "That's hardly the behavior of our future empress!"

  She rested her elbow on the balustrade and cradled her chin in the palm of her hand.

  "I don't care," she said with a sigh.

  "Let’s go find more wine," Vincent suggested.

  In her private quarters, Lady Veber was so preoccupied with thoughts of Lord Tagus III, she nearly forgot about Magnus Black until he requested clearance to land at the estate. Still, she was surprised to see Magnus so soon, but even more surprised to see the person he brought with him.

  "Who is this?" Lady Veber asked, fearing that she already knew the answer.

  The young man beside Magnus spoke up.

  "I'm Jack Groen," he said.

  "How unexpected," she replied, shooting Magnus a withering look.

  The assassin, in his dark coat, returned her stare with cold determination.

  "We need to talk," Magnus said.

  "I imagine so," she said, gesturing toward a pair of couches and some comfortable chairs.

  Although she was at first reluctant to make eye contact with the boy, Lady Veber was struck by his blue eyes and blond hair. He was not what she expected, not that she had expected him at all.

  "You don't look like a Tagus," Lady Veber remarked.

  "Well," Jack replied, momentarily at a loss, "it's possible I take after my mother..."

  She smiled. "Perhaps that’s for the best."

  "I never knew her," Jack went on, "or my father."

  "Yes, I suppose it's your father that's the problem," Lady Veber said. "Do you know why you're here?"

  Jack's face turned serious. "You want to kill me."

  Lady Veber raised an eyebrow, but nodded in agreement.

  "That was the plan," she said, again glancing at Magnus, "but apparently the plan has changed."

  "I didn't know who he was," Magnus spoke for the first time.

  "You knew his name, didn't you?" Lady Veber asked.

  "When I first met him, he was just a baby," Magnus said. "I didn't know his real name."

  "A baby?" Lady Veber said. "What are you talking about?"

  "I was there when his mother died," Magnus replied. "I was the one who killed her."

  Lady Veber noticed the boy stare into his lap, his hair covering his eyes.

  "A mission?" she asked.

  "I was working for Secret Intelligence," Magnus said. "I was sent to assassinate Robert and Josephine Groen, along with their son."

  "But you failed, apparently," Lady Veber said.

  "I wasn't told their son was a baby," Magnus replied. "Once I realized the truth, the parents were both dead, but I managed to take the child and hide him with a friend."

  "But his real father was still alive, was he not?" Lady Veber asked.

  "I didn't know that either," Magnus said, "until now."

  "So, what are you going to do?" Lady Veber asked. "Will you still honor the contract?"

  Jack abruptly raised his head, turning to see Magnus' response.

  "I want you to cancel it," the assassin replied.

  Lady Veber took a deep breath before exhaling. "Today is just full of surprises."

  "After I took the baby, I left the Intelligence Service," Magnus said. "Ever since, they've hounded me for leaving."

  "Understandable," Lady Veber said.

  "Maybe," Magnus replied, "but eventually I found out the real reason they wanted to punish me for failing the mission."

  "Which was?" she asked.

  "Someone very high up had ordered the hit on the Groen family," Magnus said. "Somebody who wanted not just the parents dead, but especially the child."

  Jack leaned closer and Lady Veber couldn't help but do the same.

  "It was Rupert Tagus II," Magnus said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Having eliminated the leaders of the Griefer and the Cyberpunk gangs, Big G should have been happy.

  He was not.

  Things were not going as planned in Ashetown, and the boss of the Si-Sawat syndicate spent most of his days holed up in his office at the Fat Cat Casino.

  Behind Big G's desk, pictures and scribbled notes were pinned to a cork board, lengths of string connecting the otherwise disjointed items. Big G himself was reclining in his chair, staring at the board while tossing a ball of string absentmindedly between his paws. A noise drew his attention, and the ball fell to the floor and rolled under his desk.

  His enforcer, Max, had entered the room.

  "What is it?" Big G asked, spinning his chair around to the front. Only then did he see that Max's arm was in a sling, a line of stitches running down his shaved shoulder. "Are you okay?"

  "Sorry, boss," Max replied in his falsetto voice. "We got hit hard."

  "Again?" Big G groaned.

  "They got the warehouses by the Boneyards," Max said. "And somebody shot me."

  "Did you see who did it?"

  "Same as before, boss," Max replied. "They looked like mercenaries."

  "Unbelievable!" Big G fumed, pounding a paw on the desk. "What's the point of killing my enemies if new ones just swoop in and take their place?"

  Max shrugged. "I dunno, boss."

  "That was a rhetorical question, Max," Big G replied.

  "A rhe-what?"

  "A question that doesn't need to be answered."

  "Then why did you ask it?" Max asked.

  Big G rubbed his furry face. "Good question."

  "We keep losing territory," Max said. "What should we do?"

  "Another good question," Big G replied.

  Silence.

  "Boss?" Max asked finally.

  "I'm thinking!" Big G shouted.

  Max started nervously scratching at his stitches.

  "Don't do that," Big G said, pointing a claw at his enforcer. "I'll make you wear mittens..."

  "Sorry, boss."

  "That's okay, Max. Go watch some TV while I think of something..."

  Max's ears perked up.

  "There's a Blood Ball game on," Max remarked. "Want to watch it with me?"

  "No way," Big G replied. "Too violent."

  The Sous-Sol was largely empty except for smoke, like a fog bank rolling into shore. Behind the counter, Red the bartender puffed on a cigar while Thomas Martel nursed a whiskey across the bar. Munge sat beside the detective, his own stool barely able to carry the weight.

  "Do you have to smoke in here?" Martel asked, waving at the thick air.

  "I've got five reasons sayin' yes," Red replied, clenching his hand into a fist.

  Munge stared at the bartender blankly.

  "I'm talking about my fingers," Red told him. "Blockhead..."

  "Munge smart," he replied.

  "Yeah, you're smart like I'm handsome," the bartender said and blew a smoke ring.

  At that moment, a pair of Tikarin goons entered the bar, their fur greased back between their ears. Before they could say a word, Munge let out a noise somewhere between a shout and a growl. For his part, Martel reached for the non-existent pistol in his empty holster.

  The two felines looked at each other and left, the door closing behind them.

  "What the hell was that?" Martel asked.

  Red motioned toward the entrance with his smoldering cigar.

  "Ever since Big G got rid of the Griefers," he said, "he's been sending mooks around to get protection money. Stupid here has been keeping them off our backs... for now."

  Martel gave Munge an approving nod.

  "But from what I hear," Red went on, "Big G might need somebody prot
ecting him."

  "What do you mean?" the detective asked.

  "He and Si-Sawat have been losing territory to some Johnny-come-lately," Red replied. "They took over all the Lotus dens and I hear they’ve bought off the police too."

  Martel felt the vibration of his datapad from inside his coat. Pulling it out, an unexpected name appeared on the screen.

  "Lady Candice Woodwick?" he asked aloud, hesitating to accept the call.

  Red snorted.

  "Look at you!" he said. "Getting calls from high society!"

  "Shut up," Martel muttered and stepped away from the bar before tapping the pad. Candy's face appeared with a smile, her brilliant blue eyes filling the screen.

  "Detective Martel?" she asked.

  The detective cleared his throat and then mentally chastised himself for not doing that before he answered.

  "Lady Candice," he said. "This is a surprise."

  "Why is it so dark?" Candy asked. "Are you in a cave?"

  "Actually, I'm—" Martel glanced around. "—Yeah, I'm in a cave."

  "How exciting!" she exclaimed. "You certainly live a remarkable life..."

  "A thrill a minute," the detective replied. "What can I do for you?"

  "Bless your heart," Candy said. "That's why I'm calling. I was hoping you could come to my uncle's apartment today."

  "Is there a problem?"

  "I'm afraid so," she replied. "Uncle Winnie's roommate, Lord Groen, has taken a turn for the worse. He found more Lotus and now he’s had a relapse."

  "Have you called a doctor?" Martel asked.

  On the screen, Candy turned away briefly.

  "Well," she said, "I'd like to keep this a private affair. The fewer people who know about it, the better..."

  "I understand," Martel replied. "I can be there in a couple of hours."

  Candy smiled and Martel's heart skipped a beat.

  "Thank you so much!" she said. "I knew I could depend on you!"

  After the screen went blank again, Martel looked up to see Red staring at him with his arms crossed.

  "Blockhead," the bartender said.

  Jessica Doric had developed a short temper of late, mostly because her boss, Lord Maycare, had become a pain to locate. Not one to carry a phone, he could be anywhere on the sprawling Maycare estate, and Doric was forced to go on a wild goose chase whenever she needed to find him.

  "It's his damn institute!" she swore under her breath, referring to the Maycare Institute of Xeno Studies. Even so, Doric needed approval for certain expenditures, and Maycare kept a surprisingly tight hold on the organization's purse strings. Doric sometimes wondered if this was just an excuse to satisfy her boss' appetite for adrenaline-fueled adventure.

  Or a tax write-off.

  Having checked the gym, the outside terrace, and the media room, Doric strode down a long corridor with her clenched fists swinging by her side until she was just outside the study. Sticking her head through the doorway, Doric heard the distinct sound of crying.

  "Hello?" she asked.

  The crying stopped, followed by an unsteady "Yes?"

  Doric entered the study and found Lady Candice in a chair by the window, a box of tissues beside her.

  "Are you all right?" Doric asked.

  "Of course!" Candy replied with false cheerfulness.

  Doric came closer. Candy's nose was bright crimson and her eyes pink.

  "Why were you crying?" Doric asked.

  "Me?" Candy replied, trying to stuff the tissue box behind the chair cushion. When this failed miserably, the facade fell altogether, and the flood gates opened. She covered her eyes while tears ran out from under her hands.

  For a moment, Doric wondered about leaving her alone. After all, Candy was not her favorite person and, in her opinion, the cause of much of Maycare's recent behavior. However, seeing someone like this melted her otherwise academic heart and she knelt beside the chair, putting her hand on Candy's knee to comfort her.

  "It'll be okay," Doric said. "What's wrong?"

  "I've done something terrible!" Candy replied between sobs.

  "It can't be that bad..." Doric said.

  Candy paused to collect herself, using a tissue to blow her nose.

  "When I was still a girl," she began, "I always thought Lord Groen was having so much fun!"

  "Your uncle's roommate?"

  Candy nodded. "Radford would go to bet on the horses and sometimes he'd take me along. When I got old enough, he showed me how to place bets and pretty soon I was going on my own.

  "At first," she went on, "I kept winning, and it was fun! Then, I had a losing spell, but I kept betting because I thought my luck would change. Pretty soon I was getting deeper and deeper into debt. After using all my credit, I asked Radford and he told me about someone named Jollux. Jollux was the only one willing to loan me money."

  "Oh, Lady Candice..."

  "I know!" Candy cried. "I'm so embarrassed!"

  Through the doorway, Henry walked into the study with his hands in his pockets.

  "Go away, Henry!" Doric shouted.

  Henry spun on his heels and strolled back out of the room.

  "So, what happened?" Doric asked.

  "Jollux called me yesterday," Candy replied. "He said I needed to contact that detective, Martel, and tell him to meet me."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know!" Candy sobbed. "But I'm worried. Jollux is dangerous..."

  "Call Martel back and warn him," Doric said.

  "It's too late. He was supposed to meet me two hours ago."

  "Maybe we should call the police," Doric suggested.

  "They can't be trusted," Candy replied. "Jollux paid them off."

  "Have you told Lord Maycare?"

  Candy's eyes widened. "No! Devlin can't know about this!"

  "You have to tell him."

  "No!" Candy said, more determined this time. "There has to be another way."

  From the skies above Middleton, a gravcar swooped down and landed in the driveway of a dilapidated mansion slowly being restored by laborers. The workers scarcely acknowledged the two plain-clothed detectives who exited the vehicle or the man they removed from the backseat, his hands in cuffs and his head covered with a black hood. This was not unusual at the house.

  The homicide detectives, Wingus and Dingus, dragged the man up to the front door where a muscular man dressed as a butler let them in. The butler ushered them through to the hothouse where Jollux sat on his bench like on a teak throne, surrounded by tropical plants. The loan shark followed the new arrivals with his big, yellow eyes until the detectives dropped their prisoner at his feet.

  Wingus pulled off the hood, revealing Thomas Martel.

  "Detective Martel!" Jollux shouted. "So nice of you to join us... again!"

  His face swollen, Martel blinked against the brightness of the room. "I didn't have a lot of choice..."

  “Of course you did!” Jollux replied. “If you hadn’t continued digging into my gambling racket, you wouldn’t be here!”

  Jollux eyed the two police detectives.

  "Did you have any trouble securing our guest?" he asked them.

  "He was right where you said he'd be," Wingus replied. "We brought his gun along too, in case you wanted a souvenir."

  Taking a clear evidence bag out of his coat, Wingus placed it on the bench next to the loan shark.

  "He calls it Maxwell," he said, returning to his spot beside the other detective.

  "You gave your gun a name?" Jollux asked incredulously. "How peculiar..."

  Finding it hard to keep his head up, Martel stared at the floor. "It takes all kinds, I guess."

  "Oh, I agree with you there," the loan shark said. "I see all sorts in my line of business, from gutter urchins to ladies of high society. Speaking of which, I believe we share an acquaintance, Lady Candice Woodwick, do we not?"

  "Yeah," Martel muttered.

  "You realize, of course, she was the one who set you up."

  Though it hurt
his jaw to smile, the detective grinned sardonically.

  "I kinda figured that when these two morons showed up," he said. "But I was hoping it was just a coincidence."

  "Sadly, no," Jollux replied. "In fact, Lady Candice owes me quite a lot of money so she was eager to make things right, and not for the first time I might add."

  Dingus, who had been holding Martel by the arm this whole time, let go, allowing the detective to fall to his knees.

  "Uncuff the poor man," Jollux said. "Assuming you've searched him, of course."

  Unable to stand after the detectives removed his shackles, Martel fell face first. Wingus and Dingus picked him up again, but Martel was now holding something, a snub pistol that had been stashed away in his waistband.

  "Say hello to Mini Max," Martel said, firing into the top of Wingus' shoe before doing the same thing to Dingus. Both men released their hold on Martel while they hopped around, blood spurting from their respective feet.

  Martel pointed the pistol at Jollux, but the weight of the butler landed on him with full force, flattening the detective. The muscular goon wrestled the gun from Martel's weakened hands.

  Wingus fell, unable to balance on one foot while trying to stem the blood spilling from the other. Lying on his side, he pointed at the now subdued investigator. "Kill him!"

  Jollux rested his arms thoughtfully on his Buddha belly.

  "Perhaps you're right," he sighed, nodding at his butler still atop the detective. "As I recall, our friend still deserves payback for demolishing one of my Lotus dens. It seems only fitting that he gets a taste of what so many others have already tried..."

  The butler nodded and pulled a handful of Lotus tabs from his pocket. Forcing Martel's mouth open, he shoved the petals inside while clamping the detective's nose shut. Unable to breathe, Martel choked until he swallowed what was in his mouth.

  "Pleasant dreams..." Jollux chuckled.

  The mean streets of Regalis, and the Ashetown district in particular, were a tough place for a rookie, but Police Detective Thomas Martel wasn’t a rookie anymore and hadn’t been for a long time. After years under his partner Detective Crawley's guidance, Martel believed he had already made all the choices required to shape him into an officer and a person.

  He was wrong.

  Their gravcar landed beside the crumbling facade of an abandoned apartment building in an Ashetown neighborhood. Before they got out, Crawley handed Martel a credit stick.