“That wasn’t me,” she whispered. “That wasn’t us.”
“Of course; that was the other Grafters, wasn’t it?” snarled the man. There were tears in his eyes, and his face was red. Odette felt a pinch all over her skin, as if the oil were tightening around her. “The ones that invaded my country and killed children.”
“I—” began Odette.
“But don’t you live forever?” said the man. “Hasn’t your boss been walking around for centuries?” There was a jolt under Odette, as if the seat had been jerked suddenly. Except that the man still had his arms folded. “Centuries.”
What do I do? she thought. If I attack him or scream for help, he might kill me. So stay still, she decided. Don’t do or say anything that might provoke him. Maybe someone will come. Maybe he’ll calm down.
“It might have been a long time ago,” said the man. “But we remember, and we pass the memory along.” He stared at her, and her skin prickled sharply.
That wasn’t my nerves, she thought. That’s him. She tried to lean back a little and found that it was difficult, as if she were wearing rigid clothing. She could practically taste the hate in the air. Her legs felt stiff, pinioned in her own skin and a shell of oil.
You’re holding my exterior, she thought. But there’s more to me than what you see.
She concentrated and engaged some nerves that were tucked away deep within her torso. The moment he brings violence, I am not going to pull any punches. Unless he calmed himself down, the man in the suit was going to be receiving a dose of venom that was normally found in the crural glands of the male platypus. It wasn’t fatal, but it was supposed to be excruciatingly painful.
That is, if he’ll even let me get a punch in. She felt as if she were being held in a vise, the oil gripping her.
“Pawn Korybut,” said a voice. A woman’s voice. With an effort, Odette turned her head. There stood the small figure of Rook Myfanwy Thomas.
“Rook Thomas,” said the man, Korybut, not taking his eyes off Odette.
“Stand down,” said the Rook. Her voice was calm, mild even, but under that cool tone was the promise of dire consequences if she was not obeyed.
There was a horrible pause as Odette was transfixed by Pawn Korybut’s gaze. There was no change in his eyes. The rage and madness didn’t grow fainter. There was simply a man who was deciding what mattered most to him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said finally. Odette felt the prickling tightness on her skin easing, and she was suddenly able to slump.
“Now go,” said Rook Thomas. “You’re done for the day. It’s time to go home.” He picked up his briefcase and backed away. “You don’t talk about this to anyone, Pawn Korybut. You and I will discuss this tomorrow.” He nodded. Finally he turned and walked out the door. The goop, however, failed to mystically evaporate.
Odette buried her head in her hands; the oil squished on her palms and burned her eyes. It was not immediately clear, even to her, if she was crying. There were some gasping breaths and a fair amount of emotional turmoil, but no actual sobs. She looked up and saw Rook Thomas standing by her, looking sympathetic.
“I’m not crying,” said Odette, trying to muster up some dignity. “Whatever this stuff is, it’s in my eyes.”
“It’s everywhere,” said the Rook. “Let’s go get you cleaned up. I’d pat you comfortingly on the arm, but I don’t want that crap on me.”
“I can’t,” said Odette helplessly. “I can’t walk through the halls like this.”
“Oh, I’ve attended meetings looking far worse,” said Thomas dismissively. “No one will look twice at you.”
Persuaded by her practical tone and the fact that the liquid covering her was getting unpleasantly cold, Odette gingerly stood up, slipping a little on the floor. The Rook was staring, stony-faced, at the conference table. Odette looked down and saw several large cracks running through the wood. “Well, at least he vented most of his frustration on the furniture,” said Thomas. Odette shuddered. “Anyway, there are showers and spare tracksuits at the gym, so let’s get going.”
Rook Thomas led her, squelching, through the hallways of Apex House to the ladies’ changing room. There were more than a few curious glances, but Thomas ignored them, so Odette tried to do the same.
I’m making such a wonderful impression, she thought.
“Did—did you use your powers on that man Korybut?” she asked finally.
“No, that was just me being his boss,” said Thomas. “Although I would have.” She opened the locker-room door, peered in, and then gestured Odette through. “No one else is in there, and I’ll wait here in the hallway to make sure that you’re not disturbed. Tracksuits are on the shelves by the towels,” she advised.
“Thanks,” said Odette, walking hurriedly into what might have been the nicest locker room she had ever been in. A thick red carpet covered the floor, leather couches lined the walls, and the lockers themselves were made of dark wood. She felt a trifle gauche to be trailing oil across the carpets and scurried to the showers. When she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror, she flinched.
Oh, marvelous, she thought grimly. I look like a whale sneezed on me.
To her immense relief, the stuff washed off easily—far more easily than the slime she’d been sleeping in. Under the hot water, her muscles relaxed, sliding back into their normal positions. She took the opportunity to have a private little cry, and then, once she was dressed in a nondescript gray tracksuit, she spent a laborious few minutes staring in a mirror and draining the redness from her eyes. She crammed her greasy suit into a plastic bag she’d liberated from a rubbish bin and wiped the better part of the oil off her shoes with handfuls of wadded-up toilet paper.
As she walked out of the bathroom in her sweat suit and high heels clutching her bag of clothes, Odette was secretly hoping that the Rook had left. That way, she could slink through the hallways, avoiding everyone, catch a cab to the hotel, and go straight to bed without having to talk or think about anything that had happened.
However, in keeping with the tone of the day, Rook Thomas had failed to leave and was leaning against the wall. She had stepped out of her heels and, as a result, was a good deal shorter. She was squinting at her phone and tapping away at it.
“What a fucking day,” said Thomas. She sighed and tucked the phone away in a pocket. “Miss Leliefeld, I am aghast at Pawn Korybut’s actions. His behavior was inexcusable, especially toward a guest and most especially toward a diplomat. On behalf of the people and the Crown of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, please accept my formal apology.” Odette blinked. The ritualistic language was somewhat at odds with the stockinged feet.
“Of course I accept,” said Odette.
“I realize we must tell Graaf Ernst,” Thomas said.
“Yes, I have to,” said Odette.
“I don’t know how he’ll take it,” said Thomas, “but the last thing we need in secret negotiations between secret organizations is more secret secrets. I’ll come with you when you tell him, and I’ll apologize to him as well.” Odette raised her eyebrows a little at the woman’s assumption that she would decide what would happen but found herself nodding in agreement. The Rook had that kind of authority.
“I saw how much that man loathed me,” said Odette. “He loathed the idea of me. And it’s not just him. People have been giving us poisonous looks since we arrived.”
“They’ve been brought up to hate the memory of the Grafters,” said Rook Thomas mildly. “I can’t expect them to stop overnight.”
“You were brought up to hate the memory of the Grafters,” said Odette. “And you seem all right.”
Thomas gave an odd little smile. “They’ll come around,” she said. “Now, let’s go talk with your ancestor, and then I’ll see about getting your bodyguard brought into service immediately.”
Oh, good, thought Odette glumly. I feel safer already.
16
That evening, Felicity knocked on Odette’s hotel-room door.
It opened and a short youth whom Felicity recognized as the brother looked up at her.
“Hello, I’m Felicity.”
“Hi,” he said. They stared at each other warily for a while. “So, I, um, I ordered a hamburger?” he said finally.
“I’m not room service,” said Felicity curtly, somewhat irritated by the way his gaze had paused on her breasts. “I’m looking for Odette Leliefeld.”
“Why?” he asked suspiciously.
“I’m her new roommate.” This revelation appeared to lie completely beyond his comprehension because he continued to stare at her. But at least he was staring at her face. She sighed heavily. “Is she here?”
“Odette!” he called, turning slightly but not taking his eyes off her. The girl Grafter appeared and looked over his head, her eyes widening in surprise.
“You’re Felicity Clements.” She did not sound delighted to have the Pawn on her doorstep. In fact, she sounded as far from delighted as it was possible to be without having a chain saw at one’s throat or genitals.
“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Leliefeld.”
Odette pushed her brother to the side, and they shook hands gingerly. Odette tried not to imagine Felicity’s powers seeping into her skin and reading her history, while Felicity tried not to brace herself to get stabbed by those spurs. Both women let go gratefully and discreetly wiped their hands on their legs.
“She says that she’s the new roommate,” said Alessio.
“I think you misunderstood,” said Odette. “She’s actually my new . . .” She trailed off as she searched for an appropriate word, eventually settling for “bewaarder.”
“What happened to Bannister?” asked the boy. “Did he fulfill his life’s dream and climb up his own asshole?”
Odette winced and cast an apologetic look at Felicity. “Alessio, please try not to be disrespectful about our hosts.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Felicity said. “I know Oliver Bannister. The greatest tragedy of his life is that he went to the world’s most exclusive school and he can’t tell everyone about it. He’s a complete twat,” she assured them. She noticed the boy mouthing her words, filing them away for later use. Marvelous, I’m such a good ambassador for our culture. “Anyway, in addition to being your new bodyguard, I’m also your new roommate.”
“You’re what?” said Odette.
“I’ll be staying with you.”
“You can’t be serious!” The words were out before she could think about them, and she flushed at her own rudeness. The Pawn’s eyes narrowed a little, and she spoke before Odette could apologize.
“Quite serious,” said Felicity. “The Checquy rooms in this hotel are all full, but I understand there’s a spare bedroom in this ridiculously large suite they’ve given you.”
“There isn’t,” said Odette. I don’t care if I’m being rude, I don’t want this killer staying with us. Bad enough that she’ll be following me around all day.
“Well, we kind of have a spare bedroom,” said Alessio, who, now that they’d established Felicity wasn’t there to kill them or deliver a hamburger, seemed quite intrigued by the development. Odette gave him an evil look.
“That doesn’t sound good,” said Felicity. “Wait—we?”
“Yeah, Odette and I share this suite.”
“That sounds even worse. So, may I come in?” They drew back to let her in, and she picked up the backpack she’d brought, stepped inside, and took in the room. “Crikey,” she said without thinking. “This place is bigger than my whole house.” And who is footing the bill for this? The British taxpayers?
“You’re getting a bodyguard?” Alessio asked Odette. “Why? Is this related to the fact that at the end of every day, you’re wearing a different outfit than the one you started in?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Odette. “I haven’t been doing that.”
“Yes, you have,” said Alessio. Odette tried not to think of the two suits that she had wadded up and hidden in her luggage. One was stained with the blood from that injured Pawn and the other covered with that horrible orange oil that had congealed all over her. I should just buy new suits, she thought grimly. I’m down to three that aren’t stained with unacceptable fluids.
“I’ve been assigned to protect your sister because she’s managed to alienate the entire organization,” said Clements. “There are concerns that if she’s left unattended, she may be subject to harassment or violence.” The two Grafters looked at her in shock.
Damn it! thought Felicity. This is why I should not be working in any sort of diplomatic role.
“But you don’t need to worry,” she said in an effort to be reassuring. “I will make sure that no one kills you. Or, if they do, that they’ll regret it.” Judging from their still-dropped jaws, this guarantee did not allay their concerns.
“So, don’t I need a bodyguard?” asked Alessio, which both women understood to mean Why don’t I get a hot woman to follow me around?
“No one hates you that much,” Odette told him absently. “Except me.”
“I see only two bedrooms,” said Felicity, turning back to them. “Is he sleeping on the couch?” Or are you sleeping upside down in a closet? she thought.
Then she realized that, in addition to thinking this, she’d actually said it. Alessio appeared amused, but Odette looked distinctly annoyed.
Felicity tried to recover, drawing her lips back in what she hoped was a charming smile. They did not look particularly charmed.
“That’s Alessio’s room,” said Odette finally, nodding toward one of the doors. “And that’s the bedroom I’ve been keeping all my things in, but I don’t sleep there. I actually sleep in the bathtub.”
“Oh,” said Felicity. Odette was mildly entertained by the warring expressions on the Pawn’s face as the allied forces of courtesy and professionalism battled with the axis of disgust and incredulity.
I don’t think I need to enlighten her any further, Odette thought. Let her imagination run riot.
“Anyway,” she said, “Alessio’s current room has its own smaller en suite with a shower and a toilet. I guess we’ll put Alessio in my bedroom, and you can have his. Alessio, start moving your stuff into my room. I’ll call housekeeping and let them know we need the sheets changed. And the porters are bringing up your luggage?” Odette asked.
“This is my luggage,” said Felicity flatly, holding up her backpack.
“Oh.”
For the next few minutes, the suite was a scene of frantic activity. In short order, Alessio’s hamburger and the chambermaid with the sheets arrived. Alessio frantically moved armloads of clothes, textbooks, and equipment from one room to the other while Felicity unpacked. Odette, after being politely (to her relief) rebuffed in her offer to help Felicity, contributed by staying out of the way, tipping the hotel staff, and eating Alessio’s french fries.
All the while, Odette watched the Pawn out of the corner of her eye. Her augmented vision gave her an excellent view, and she noted all the details she could.
Dirty-blond hair pulled back in a nondescript ponytail. Excellent skin, thought Odette with a flush of envy. Without any help from makeup. Pleasant features, even as she scanned the room for threats with a suspicious expression on her face. Felicity Clements was taller and more muscular than she was, but she was not bulky, not a bodybuilder. Instead, she gave an impression of extreme fitness. As an anatomist, Odette knew that her musculature would combine strength and flexibility.
The Englishwoman moved carefully, like a cat in an unfamiliar house. Each time someone new came to the suite, Clements was present, evaluating, and Odette noted that she did not return to her unpacking until the person had left and the door was safely shut.
Then she remembered, with a jolt in her stomach, that the Clements dossiers—which not only discussed the intimate details of her new roommate’s life but also constituted classified government material that had been obtained illegally—were, at that moment, actually on the coffe
e table, not five meters away, where she’d been reviewing them. Oh, crap. She moved her eyes minutely and zoomed in.
Yes, the files were definitely there, spread about, painfully obvious for all to see. In fact, they were open to a picture of Clements in her teenage years, snapped while she was running in an Estate athletics carnival. It was not a flattering picture—she was pouring with perspiration, her red face caught in an expression that suggested she was dying of asphyxiation. As far as incriminating evidence went, it would possibly be the most awkward discovery in the history of espionage.
She cursed softly in Flemish.
Extremely calmly, and extremely casually, Odette got up from the couch and moved over to the table. She began gathering up the pages gently, trying not to rustle them at all.
Quickly, she told herself. Quickly.
“Odette?” said a voice behind her, and she literally jumped into the air with a little shriek. She turned to see Alessio standing there. Then Felicity bolted out of her room, her fists clenched and up. Presumably she’d been summoned by the sound of her protectee’s shriek.
Conceal the files! Odette’s instincts screamed at her, but they did not offer any useful suggestions for doing that. She froze, her fingers inexplicably spread in the “jazz hands” formation. Fortunately, the other two people stared in utter bemusement at her to the exclusion of all else, including the dossiers.
“What is wrong with you?” asked Alessio.
“You startled me, is all,” said Odette. “What do you want?”
“I need the code to the room safe.” She gave it to him, warning him not to tip over any of the vials that were in there. He went into the bedroom, and Clements gave her a long, measuring look before returning to her room.
Well, I’ve certainly justified any preconceived notions she might have had about my being a freak, thought Odette. She hurriedly gathered all the papers up and cast about for a place to store them. With Alessio now occupying her bedroom, any possibility of concealing them there was effectively quashed. And if I hide them in this room, Clements or the maids might find them. A solution occurred to her.
Stiletto Page 22
