Blood Ties
Page 10
Besides, as I stepped out onto the executive level, I was left with something else to concern myself with.
The space in front of me was just a big receptionist area, a hub leading off to a dozen or so offices that circled the floor, with this elevator at the end of a spoke in the wheel-like arrangement. Directly opposite us, at the far end of the floor, was a huge double door guarded by two very familiar faces.
I followed Bron, meeting the gaze of the bodyguards stationed outside the CEOs’ office. Mendelsohn walked beside me, watching me out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine he recognized both of the bodyguards, too. They were a little famous, after all.
“What’s up, homies?” I asked, following the lush carpeting that led right to their door, my case dangling at my side. “Been a while.”
“No kidding,” one of them said, looking at me through mirrored sunglasses, her voice like iron. “I hope you aren’t going to turn this into a thing, Nealon.”
“Oh, you know me,” I said, crossing the distance between us and keeping things affable. “I’m always making it a thing.” I looked over the one in sunglasses, her dark hair in a tight bob. “Hopefully for you it won’t turn out like the last time we squared off over one of your protectees.”
“It won’t,” the other woman said. She was tall, willowy and curvy, with darkish red-tinged hair down to the shoulder blades. Her voice oozed attitude, and she took a not-so-subtle step in front of the double doors to the CEOs’ office. Her counterpart matched the move, but lacked her friendliness, because a slow smile broke out across the face of the redhead. “How you doing, girlfriend?”
I stopped just outside the office, using my case to block Mendelsohn from stepping into this field of tension until I knew how it was going to turn out. I could feel the displeasure oozing off one of them, and caught hints of it from the other.
But, then, how could I blame them for that? My brother had just fired them a couple months ago, after all.
“I’m doing all right, Veronika,” I said, then nodded to her opposite number. “Better than poor Chase here.” I gave them both a glance, still holding the silver case at my side, ready to use it as a weapon against them if this thing turned hostile—and it looked like it might. “Now...are you going to let me pass, or are we going to fight it out right here for old times’ sake?”
19.
“Woo-hoo,” Veronika Acheron said, her fists springing to life with a burning blue glow, a wave of heat washing over me as she readied herself in a fighting stance. “Bodyguarding is a boring job, and it’s been a while since I’ve had a good brawl, Nealon. You going to be my Huckleberry?”
Chase Blanton lit her lightsaber hand power, a glowing red beam jutting from under her sleeve to about three feet in front of her like a laser sword. She was already in a defensive stance, presumably preparing for me to charge them. I wasn’t quite ready to do that yet, in spite of my stunning bravado, but it was nice to know they were professional enough to take me at my word and get ready. Most bodyguards didn’t take me seriously enough, to their detriment. “You want to go, Nealon?” Chase asked, tension in her voice now through the roof. “I still owe you for cutting down my last protectee.”
“Dude, he was trying to eliminate all digital privacy the world over,” I said, keeping loose in case either of them made a stupid move. Chase was the most likely one to do this, but I had an eye on Veronika, too, because I wouldn’t put it past her to preemptively remove me as a threat. “Don’t take it so personally. You were bodyguarding a villain whose body I had to beat. It happens when you’re a mercenary.”
“Yeah, well, we all know what you do to mercenaries,” Veronika said slyly. “But you have to know we aren’t just going to fall down without a fight like your usual pushovers.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’d be a knock-down, drag-out,” I said. “But I was invited here, so how about you two just stand down and let me chat with your bosses before we start getting into the kind of mess from which there is no retreat, and no salvaging this lovely carpet.”
Veronika and Chase traded a look, sidelong only, never once taking their eyes fully off me. “You have to leave your luggage out here,” Chase said, indicating my silver case with a nod of her head.
“Absolutely not,” I said. “This stays with me, always. I can’t let it out of my sight.”
Veronika raised an eyebrow. “Then I guess we’re at an impasse. There could be anything in there—a bomb, for instance.”
“I know you’re smarter than this, Veronika,” I said. “Why the hell would I haul a bomb to Silicon Valley from New York on the off chance I got a meeting with your bosses, who I have no motive to kill? And, also, and I find this most insulting—why the hell would I need a bomb, of all things, to kill your employers? I’m Sienna Nealon, for crying out loud. If I wanted them dead, my bare hands would do the job just fine.”
Veronika and Chase traded another look, this one a lot more nervously reserved. “She has a point,” Chase said, meta-low.
“She can hear you,” Veronika said right back, not bothering with meta-low.
“I know that,” Chase said. “But there are other people present.” She nodded at Mendelsohn. “Who’s this guy?”
“Aaron Mendelsohn,” he said, taking a couple steps forward as inoffensively as possible and offering his hand. “Managing Director, Wittman Capital.” Chase gave his hand a look of disdain, and he withdrew it and himself, most wisely, from the field of conflict. “I’m helping Ms. Nealon make sense of some of the technical aspects of this investigation.”
“Also, his boss has been chauffeuring me,” I said. “Which is good, because the traffic here is really crappy and I’ve been spending a lot of time in a limo instead of a confined government SUV. Really gives me the room to stretch my legs.” I clapped the silver case on the side, making it rattle a little. “And not have this sticking out of the sunroof. Assuming my government car even would have a sunroof. Not sure they spring for that option in Washington.”
The quiet hiss of a low, digital voice intruded into the silence, and I blanched at the stereo sound of it. Chase and Veronika both winced, and I realized the noise was coming from earpieces that were in their left ears, hidden under their long hair. “Let her in,” the command came, from a female voice that was clearly not used to brooking argument.
“Yeah, let her in,” I taunted, causing Chase to twitch with irritation, but only provoking a small, cool smile from Veronika. She was the old pro of the pair. Not that Chase was inexperienced, but Veronika had been doing mercenary assignments of various kinds for decades, I suspected. She got cagey about her age, though, so it was impossible to confirm.
Chase didn’t douse her lightsaber blade, but Veronika pushed open the double door for me, never taking her eyes off me as I stepped up to enter the CEOs’ chamber. “Play nice, Nealon,” Veronika said. She didn’t go so far as to wink at me, which would have been well within her normal behavioral parameters, but I sensed a dark playfulness in her tone. She’d fight me, no problem, no regrets, if it came to that. But warily.
On the other hand, Chase seemed to be looking for an opportunity to butt heads with me. Whether that was down to our last conflict, back in the US Virgin Islands a couple years ago, or because Reed had hired her at my recommendation and then fired her, along with Friday and so many others, was an open question. It didn’t matter, ultimately, except that her ire might provoke a fight that didn’t need to be fought.
“Oh, by the way,” I said, slipping a hand into my jacket and flashing my FBI badge. “In case there’s any doubt about why I’m here...it’s really not personal. This is a federal investigation.”
“Yeah, I heard one agent died already,” Chase said, and holy hell, was she viciously cold as she said it, lightsaber adding a note of crimson menace as it reflected in her eyes, crackling quietly as I passed. “It’d be a shame if another did, too.”
“Chase,” Veronika said under breath, trying to back her off. “
Let’s not.”
Chase didn’t back off an inch. She stared me right in the face as I walked by. I didn’t dare look away for fear she’d use that untold anger to take a swipe at me. Damn, it was like she was carrying a Middle-East-level oil reservoir, except composed of pure hatred for me. I was hard-pressed to tell how things could possibly get any worse in that regard, but...
Then they did.
A low scraping from across the floor caused me to turn, almost knocking Veronika over with my case. She dodged in time, but anger flashed across her face and Chase moved to block my entry with her lightsaber blade, reacting to this unseen noise as though it were some sort of attack.
It wasn’t.
Not exactly.
With her lightsaber blade poised to take my head off with a flick of her wrist, Chase turned her head to check the source of the noise. It was the elevator Mendelsohn and I had rode up on. The doors were being forced open, emitting a grinding metal screech as they did so.
Heat radiated out from Veronika’s hands, and I tried to keep my eye on everything at once as the shit began to hit the fan. The two meta bodyguards were trying to button me up while assessing the threat coming from the elevator as it continued to force the door, and a flash of black appeared in the gap, along with immense hands—
Dammit.
“I’ll take care of Nealon,” Chase said, clipped. “You deal with—”
“Stop,” I said. “It’s not what you think.”
They didn’t stop. Veronika was already on her way across the floor; Chase was poised to thrust that lightsaber blade in my neck, which would probably kill me for the second time this mission. Not being keen on that, I swung my long case low as I dodged back, ripping her legs from beneath her and sending her sprawling to the floor.
She never even saw it coming.
“Veronika, no!” I shouted as she bounded toward the elevator. “He’s with me!”
And just before she got to the elevator doors, they forced themselves open and Friday popped out, still swollen to the approximate size of a jumbo SUV. He took Veronika’s bounding form in with one glance and said, “’Sup, girl?”
Veronika came to a skidding halt, dousing the blue plasma and wearing a hole of several inches in the carpet before stopping about a foot from colliding with Friday. She recovered in time to bring her fists up, though, and while I couldn’t see the look on her face, I couldn’t imagine it was good.
Chase hissed behind me, and I stepped back to avoid getting a reprisal from her. Her face was red, though whether it was because I had knocked her flat in front of her new bosses or because of my “partner,” it was tough to say. Either way, she didn’t look happy.
“Chase!” Friday called from across the floor, waving like an idiot. “What’s up, my lady?”
I cringed. That was not going to make things better.
20.
“You’re working with this idiot?” Veronika asked. She’d escorted Friday over to me, only a couple steps from apoplexy herself, but her innate professionalism keeping her from stuffing a plasma-encased hand into Friday’s rib cage and cooking him from the inside like a Thanksgiving turkey.
Chase did not look like she was possessed of similar restraint, so when Friday started to head toward her for a hug, I battered his kneecaps with my silver case to keep him from getting any closer. Chase’s face was blood red, and if she got any madder, I didn’t discount the idea that her head would physically launch from her body like a missile and kill anything in its path.
“Let’s just keep this cool,” I said. The whole incident had moved me back from my goal of getting into the CEOs’ office, and the door was once again blocked by Chase, she of the lightsaber hand and total fury. This was not my best intro to a situation ever, but it seemed wise to try and chill things out after a shaky start. “I’m going to have a meeting with your bosses, and then Friday and I are going to get out of your hair and hopefully we won’t have any reason to cross paths again. Ever.”
“Nealon, your luck don’t run like that,” Veronika said, a hint of an impish smile perking up the corners of her lips.
“Maybe your luck’s in the driver’s seat here,” I said. “There’s no need for us to get all unnecessarily hostile. I’ve got a job to do, you’ve got a job to do. In spite of our personal acrimony, our objectives aren’t mutually exclusive. We can do this, just a few minutes of crossing each others’ paths, and I’m out of your hair, hopefully for good.”
I got the feeling from the look on Chase’s face that she didn’t believe that any more than Veronika did, but at least she had the grace not to say it.
“Come on, Chase,” Veronika said, stepping between us. “The bosses are waiting.”
“Wait, you guys work for—” Friday started. I dinged him in the kneecaps again. “Ow! Why do you keep doing that?”
“I’m trying to salvage an uncomfortable situation,” I said. Everyone’s eyes were on me. “Just stay quiet, Friday.”
“But it’s Chase,” Friday said, pointing at her, as though somehow we’d all missed her standing there. “My Chase—”
“Dude,” I said.
“I was never yours, you freak,” Chase seethed, spittle flying from her, a couple drops crackling as they hit the lightsaber blade.
“Geez, Nealon,” Veronika said, looking me very pointedly in the eye, “all the metas you know and this is the guy you pick to be your partner? I think I’m a little insulted.”
“You should be complimented; I’m so amazing,” Friday said. “I was carrying you all back in the agency days. Now I have to carry her.” He pointed at me. “Fortunately that’s an easier job these days than before she started working out and toning up.”
“The government chose him,” I said, steering clear of saying anything or battering Friday with my suitcase.
“That seems logical,” Veronika said. “You know, for the government.”
“You keep him and yourself the hell away from me,” Chase said, her blade still glowing. “And we’ll be just fine.”
“Understood,” I said, and thumped Friday across the back of his knees. “Come on.”
“Stay out of trouble, Nealon,” Veronika said softly.
I nodded, thumping Friday again to get him through the doors into the CEOs’ office. Mendelsohn followed me, taking it all in with a steady gaze. I didn’t know quite what he was feeling vis-a-vis the scene we’d just partaken in outside the door, but he seemed like a civilized person, which meant he probably didn’t much enjoy it. I certainly hadn’t.
“I’ve never seen anything quite like that,” came a slightly high female voice from a desk over in the corner. A brunette with short-cropped hair and sharp features was sitting next to a mousy dude with long, raven hair down to mid-back. He was hunched over a computer and she was just sitting next to him in athleisure wear, running shoes and a tank top, a towel across her shoulders.
“Well, you know, I’ve worked with those two before,” I said. “I think they might be holding a grudge or twelve.”
The lady laughed. She was young, pert, and stood to offer a hand to me as I made my way over. I offered mine and she shook it, briskly. “Berniece Adams,” she said. Like I didn’t know that. “And over there is the famous Hollister.”
Hollister McKay just grunted. His eyes were transfixed on his computer, and his dark hair barely swayed, like he’d thought about turning around to greet us but got distracted. A rapid tapping of fingers on keys told me that whatever he was working on had won over being polite to us.
“Sorry for the scene,” I said. “We’ll try and keep this brief—”
“What are you doing here, Aaron Mendelsohn, you beautiful stallion?” Berniece offered him a hand, too, which he delicately shook. “You haven’t left Cameron for the government sector, have you? Because if I’d known, I’d have sent you twelve job offers, each more impressive than the last—”
“I’m just helping Ms. Nealon,” Mendelsohn said, “on Mr. Wittman’s behalf.”
“You’re too kind,” Mendelsohn said.
“Aaron here is a prodigious intellect,” Berniece said, smiling coyly at me. “Half of Silicon Valley wishes they could hire him. The other half wishes he was dead.” She laughed, a short bark. “Jealous, you know, because he keeps Wittman from entertaining any bad VC deals.” Her eyes slid over to Friday, though I suspected she’d already seen him, because...how could she not? He was the elephant in the room. “And who’s this slab of beefcake?”
“Friday,” he rumbled. “Guy Friday. Agent 0012.”
“Well, hello,” she said, and offered him a hand, which disappeared into his giant palm as he shook with her. Surprisingly delicately. “You are quite the specimen, aren’t you? What’s with the mask?” Her nose wrinkled as she contemplated him.
“I have to keep my identity hidden,” he said. “Because I’m a secret agent. Top secret. If you saw my face, I’d have to kill you, so the mask is totally for your protection.”
I closed my eyes, willing this exchange to end, and swiftly.
“Oooh, that sounds exciting,” Berniece said, putting a hand to her breastbone. “I love a good secret—and some danger.”
“That explains your choice of bodyguards,” I muttered. “So...about this theft in Chicago—”
“Oh, yes,” Berniece said, focusing on me, though her eyes lingered on Friday a little longer than they needed to. “About two years ago, we acquired a robotics company. You know how it is; we finished our Series C round of funding, but at the same time our revenue model changed and exploded, actually, leaving us flush with cash. We decided to pour some into areas of interest for Hollister here.” She nodded at the mop of black hair, which had never once turned to actually acknowledge us. “It seemed a better idea than just letting them tax it away, and it gave us a foothold in a different industry. I’m sure Hollister probably plays with them every now and again—”