by Dan Moren
“It’s about you know who,” said Erich with a significant nod.
“The pri–?”
Erich shot him a look.
“Sorry,” said Eli, raising his hands.
“It’s OK, it’s just… you’re a spook, you know how it is. People are always listening.”
Eli found himself wishing he had brought the baffle that Taylor had used in his room at the embassy. In part because it would have indeed kept this conversation between them, but more to the point, it seemed like it would have relaxed Erich. The normally calm and collected pilot looked like he’d been marked for death.
“It’s all right,” said Eli. “Look, just tell me what this is all about. Maybe I can help.”
Erich sighed. “You didn’t hear this from me, OK?”
“Got it.”
“He,” a pause again, but this time it was only Erich’s eyes that went to his nominal boss, “has very specific… tastes.”
“Tastes?” Eli echoed.
“With… his partners. He likes the pretty ones.”
“Don’t we all?”
“You don’t understand,” Erich said sharply, before he caught himself. The emphatic tone had caught the attention of a couple of their neighbors, who had spared a glance in their direction before returning to their hopefully much more mundane conversation.
“Not a bit,” said Eli. “Spit it out, Erich.”
“People – women, men, everyone – are attracted to him because he’s handsome, and powerful,” Erich said. “He takes advantage of that – of the fact that he’s untouchable – to treat them… badly.”
“Badly?”
Erich shook his head, and Eli noticed the color had drained out of his friend’s face. “Really, really badly.”
Eli slowly turned his head towards the object of their discussion, catching Taylor in the middle of throwing back her head in a delighted laugh. Her hand touched the hollow at her throat, and she looked up at the prince through half-lidded eyes. Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t we, commander?
“You’re telling me,” he said slowly, “that the crown prince of the Illyrican Empire is, what? A sadist?”
Erich swallowed.
“Abusive?”
An infinitesimal nod.
“Worse?”
Erich’s eyes went wide and he spread his hands silently.
“Holy mother of god, Erich,” Eli hissed.
“Look, I know your hands are probably tied. That’s fine. I don’t expect you to do anything about him – but trust me: take your friend home before he does.”
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. He took a deep breath and grasped for some sort of calm. He wondered if the secret agent handbook had training for scenarios like this. Section V, Chapter 2, Paragraph C, Sub-section 11: How to warn your colleague about a valuable intelligence source’s predilection for getting violent. It seemed unlikely, and that actually gave him some heart – it wasn’t like this was a scenario he was supposed to know how to handle. He was just as much in the dark as Kovalic would be in the same situation.
But Kovalic had the benefit of what, ten or twenty years’ experience? He would have an idea about how to get out of this. Eli had nothing to go on but his wits. He stifled a disparaging remark that came in the form of Tapper’s voice.
Tapper. He still had a line to the sergeant, outside in the van. With everything that happened, it’d slipped his mind somehow. Not that he could very well call him up in front of Erich – especially after he’d been asked to keep this all to himself. So, first things first: he needed to extricate himself from Erich.
He clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll take care of this.” He tried to inject a note of confidence in his voice, which was tough when he felt about as assured as a man in the process of falling off a building.
“Eli, just… just don’t let it get back to me, OK?”
“You’ve got my word,” Eli promised. “Just give me a minute.” Giving Erich a nod, Eli sidled away, exhaling like he was being slowly decompressed. Once he was far enough from Erich, he pressed his right hand against the cufflink on his left wrist.
“Bulldog, this is–” A burst of static hit him so hard that his eyes screwed up and he felt his sinuses clear. He stabbed at the trigger again with one hand, then clutched his head. A couple of people nearby were giving him strange looks, so he smiled and pantomimed a headache.
Jamming. Shouldn’t be surprised, I guess. But his idea of getting Tapper’s help was flaming out before his eyes. He really was on his own here.
Fine. That’s fine. I’ve made it this far without Kovalic on my back every step of the way. Besides, this was his job now. He could handle this. Smoothing his hands down the crisp front of his suit, he straightened his tie and corrected his posture, like his mother had always told him to do. Then, putting his most expansive and welcoming smile on, he briskly crossed the room to the crowd of people that had assembled around the prince.
There was a pretty even mix of austere Illyricans and more flamboyantly dressed Bayern citizens. Gaps in the group were few and far between, but Eli maneuvered himself into one and peered around for Taylor.
His heart took the slide down into his stomach as he re-examined every single face, but it didn’t change the result. Taylor wasn’t there. And neither was the prince.
Shit.
It was the right circle; he was sure of that. Maybe they’d just decided to mingle with another group. Both of them. Eli made for the stairs from which they’d entered, stopping shy of the crimson-and-gold guards at its top. He scanned the crowd, taking in every face he saw, but neither Taylor nor the prince was among them. Then again, some were facing away from him, so he checked again, this time looking for the distinctive purple hue of Taylor’s dress. That didn’t help either, though he did see a few women wearing a similar color.
What the hell? How does a party lose its guest of honor? Especially when every exit is guarded by…
His stomach plummeted, and he took the room in again, this time with an eye towards the entrances. There were three of them: the one where they’d come in at the top of the stairs; one towards the back of the room that seemed to spew waiters, which Eli suspected led to the kitchens; and the side exit that Frayn had tried to chivvy them out earlier.
Speaking of whom, Eli hoped to high heaven that the IIS colonel had remained otherwise occupied. Sure enough, he caught sight of the older man caught in discussion with a handful of stuffy-looking uniformed individuals, with what Eli could make out even at this distance as a slightly pained expression on his face.
He took another deep breath. Taylor could take care of herself – Eli had no doubts about the commander’s capability – but he was pretty sure he’d be falling down on his job if he didn’t apprise her of what Erich had told him. Even if she’d be able to roll with whatever came her way, walking in blind wouldn’t be doing her any favors. Not to mention what Frayn might do if he found out in whose company the prince had left. No matter how many times Eli did the math, it kept ending up in negative numbers.
So, first things first: find Taylor. They would have ducked out either through the kitchens or the side entrance – someone must have seen them. Obviously, if nobody else, then at least the guards. Not that they were likely to tell him.
But, then again, Eli knew somebody they would tell.
He found Erich again easily enough, entertaining a group of ladies who were appreciatively hanging on the flyboy’s every word. Serving in Homeworld Defense might have been an affront to Erich’s personal honor, but it didn’t seem to have hurt his reputation with the opposite sex. And from the way he was describing flying a fighter, Eli got the impression this was a speech the other man had practiced plenty of times.
Shame to drag him away when he’s working the crowd, but I think this is a little more important than making sure Erich gets laid.
He maneuvered himself next to his former classmate, waited as the laughter from Erich�
��s double-entendre about whether any of the ladies had ever handled a stick had subsided, then cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, commander, but there’s an urgent matter that needs your attention.”
“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, it concerns the guest of honor?”
The second eyebrow went up alongside the first, and Erich turned, all smiles, to the group of women. “Pardon me, ladies,” he said graciously, sketching a bow. “But I need to deal with something. Enjoy your evening.”
Eli offered a quicker, even less formal bow, and hastened Erich away.
“This better be good, Eli. I’ll have you know that brunette’s engines were revved up.”
Oh, Erich. Always distracted by a pretty face. “And here I thought your job was guarding the prince.”
“I’m a wing commander. I delegate.” Erich craned his neck to see over the crowd. “Anyway, he’s right over… huh.”
“Yeah, ‘huh’. My date’s gone too, so do the math on that one,” said Eli, steering Erich towards the side entrance, which he’d decided was the one that the prince and Taylor had most likely used. Guards were bound to be discreet, it was the nature of their job; waiters, on the other hand, would probably talk. And when it came to the crown prince of the Imperium, that just wouldn’t do at all.
The two soldiers at the door stiffened at the sight of their commander, even if he was being propelled by another man. Erich broke free as they approached and smoothed his dress uniform, drawing himself up to his full height.
“Did the prince come through here with a woman?”
The two guards exchanged a glance, and one of them directed a pointed glance at Eli.
“He’s with me, Lieutenant Attal,” Erich snapped. “And, at any rate, he didn’t ask – I did.”
“Yes, sir,” said the dark-haired man who had blocked Eli and Taylor’s egress earlier this evening. “About five minutes ago.”
“Where? And why wasn’t I notified?”
The two men glanced at each other again.
“I trust I don’t have to repeat myself?” Erich said, fixing them with a stare.
“No, sir,” said the same one who had answered the first time – Attal. “I believe he was heading back to the residence. Lee and Hashemi went with him, but he asked it be kept quiet. Said something about making it an early night.”
Eli frowned. “All this security, and he’s not staying here?”
“You don’t know the prince,” Erich muttered, glancing at his sleeve. “Always has to find the most expensive place. This one has a private jetpad, which I guess is a nice touch.”
The privileges of wealth, I guess. I thought our embassy was pretty nice. “You know we need to go after them.”
The Illyrican pilot ran a hand through his shock of blond hair, parting it like a tractor through a cornfield. Sweat had started to glisten on his forehead.
“Erich. You’re the one who told me not to let her leave with him.”
Erich seized his arm and dragged him out of earshot of the guards. “Yes, I told you not to let them leave together,” he hissed, an edge of panic entering his voice. “As a favor to you. But you want me to go up against the heir to the goddamned crown and tell him what? To leave a lady alone because she came in with a friend of mine? She didn’t leave under duress, did she?”
Doubtful, Eli thought, recalling the way he’d seen her touch the prince’s arm. Taylor had seen an opportunity and had decided to shoot for the moon. To go big or go home. Just as long as it’s not in a body bag.
“She came here as my guest, Erich. And if what you told me is true, then she may be getting a little more than she bargained for. Now, are you going to help me or not?” Eli softened his tone. “Look, I’m not asking in a professional capacity – I’m asking as a friend.”
Erich stared glumly into the middle distance, then finally shook his head. “Goddamn it, Eli. Fine, let’s go. But if this goes south, then I hope your colleagues are ready to do a little sweeping up.”
Oh, I think it’ll be a bit more than a little sweeping up if this goes wrong. “I’m sure they will.”
Turning on his heel, Erich marched back up to the door and pushed his way through it, ignoring the two guards. Eli trailed in his wake, and they found themselves in a corridor that took a sharp right turn and ran alongside the embassy’s outer wall. It was punctuated with large windows that looked out into the impeccably landscaped garden; he imagined it must be a sight to behold during the day cycle. Right now, it just looked like a bunch of dark blobs.
On the opposite side hung a series of large oil paintings. Unsurprisingly, most of them depicted the history of the House of Malik in a variety of its most triumphant moments. There was the founding of what would become Illyrica, with a young Captain Laila Malik atop a dun-colored hillside, planting a crimson scrap of a flag while behind her lay the smoking ruin of the crashed colony ship Seed of Eden. Another tableau depicted the victory of Alaric I – great-grandfather and namesake of the current emperor – in the War of Unity, dressed in camouflaged battle fatigues while signing a document that would bring peace to the warring factions of the colonists and instill his regime as emperor. Finally, the all-too-familiar portrait of the current emperor in his most puissant middle age, with full black beard and piercing gaze – the same image that had been used for many of the bronze statues that resided in Raleigh City, the capital of Eli’s homeworld, Caledonia.
Eli shook his head as they walked. “I get that he’s the emperor and everything, but I guess I never really understood the hero worship.”
Erich shrugged. “You grew up in the colonies. I don’t think there are a lot of people there who have high opinions of the man.”
“Not to mention the whole system of hereditary power,” said Eli, nodding ahead in the darkness towards their unseen quarry. “I mean, do you think the prince is fit to run the show?”
Erich slowed, unable to conceal an element of suspicion from his face. “What the hell kind of question is that? Is this some sort of loyalty test?”
Eli bit his tongue. He’d slipped into a sense of false camaraderie with Erich, of the sort they’d used to share in the academy. He’d forgotten that he was supposed to be playing the part of an intelligence agent for the Imperium. And Erich was right: that wasn’t the sort of question that a loyal subject would ask.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Eli hastened to say. “Just, you know, a question I’ve asked myself. Guess it’s just my prejudice from my upbringing showing again.”
Erich eyed him, but started walking again, quickening his pace. The two of them reached the end of the corridor, where a pair of heavy ornate doors led outside. Together, they shoved them open, stepping out into the cool night air of Bergfestung.
They’d ended up in the gardens, to the right of the main entrance. Eli could see the gravel path leading to the front gates, and occasionally caught the misshapen beam of light flashing off the cave ceiling far above.
“I thought you said you flew him in?” Eli asked. “Why aren’t we heading to the roof?”
“Security arrangements,” Erich said quickly. “Don’t want to be too predictable. Arrive by flier, leave by car.”
Eli nodded, though privately he thought it sounded ridiculous, and they set out across the lawn, towards the fence that surrounded the embassy. Just past it, Eli could make out the street and the lights of the buildings across the way. A wrought iron gate stood at the end of the drive, with another pair of crimson-and-gold guards flanking it. He made a beeline for them.
They were halfway to the gate when a sheet of white light flashed from beyond. Eli had just enough time to wonder if Bayern’s weather simulation system produced thunderstorms when a deep bass fwump shook the ground beneath him, resonating inside his chest cavity.
“What the…?”
Erich had looked up sharply and then begun to jog towards the gate. Eli broke into a run, following after him. The pair of guards who had be
en standing at the entrance were getting back to their feet; evidently, they’d been much closer to the source of the noise.
Eli ignored them, pushing through the gate and onto the street, then gawped at the scene down the road. It had been a multi-car pileup, though there were so many shapes mashed together that Eli couldn’t be sure how many vehicles there had been. Flames licked from one of them, a long black hovercar that had apparently been broadsided by a van.
He’d started towards the scene of the crash, thinking that there might be people inside that needed help when something zinged into the stone column behind him. Eli stared at it blankly for a moment before realizing that someone had shot at him. Belatedly, he dropped to the ground as his brain tried to process all the information that had been dumped on it.
So much for this being an accident. What the hell is going on?
More small arms fire sputtered above his head, taking flecks of stone out of the pillar, and Eli shimmied back behind the gate, hopefully out of the line of fire. He crouched behind the pillar, which provided some degree of cover.
Peering out, he could see dark shapes moving towards the crashed hovercar. Even in the gloom he could tell they were armed with rifles. One of them yanked open the door, and Eli saw two figures hustled out, their arms gripped tightly by the assailants. As the second person was pulled from the car, Eli caught a flash of color illuminated by the fire. Purple.
Taylor.
The two figures, held at gunpoint, were ushered towards another van that had pulled up and then thrown unceremoniously inside. Some part of Eli’s brain told him to get the registration tag, but he couldn’t make it out in the darkness. Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet and prepared to sprint to a better vantage poi–
Something collided hard with the back of his head, and darkness descended all around him like a heavy, velvet curtain.
Chapter 15
For Kovalic, perched on the rooftop, the whole scene played itself out in his mind’s eye, only to be repeated below on the street. Sometimes you could just see what was going to happen before it happened.
