by R S Penney
Ben glanced over his shoulder, directing a smile at Jack. “So, you ready to do this, bro?” he asked, eyebrows rising. “Just like old times. Never thought we'd get to be each other's wing-men again.”
“Wing-men?” Anna inquired.
“Well, it goes back to the days before I was domesticated,” Ben explained. “Jack would find guys for me to date, and I'd find women for him to stand awkwardly next to until they went away.”
“I don't know about that,” Gabi said softly. “Jack can be quite charming when he's allowed to come to it on his own terms.”
That much was true.
There was something disarming about Jack's odd mix of confidence and humility. One moment, he would be right in your face, defending some point of logic he insisted was of vital importance; the next, he would be apologizing for thinking too much of his own opinion. It was…kind of cute, actually.
“All right,” she said. “Let's go.”
Out in the hallway, they found Jena standing with her arms crossed, dressed in a pair of black pants and a purple top with sleeves that flared at the cuff. “All right. You know the plan,” she said, nodding to each of them. “You get in, you look for Keli. If you find her, Ben disables the slaver's collar.”
Ben smiled, bowing his head to her. “Shouldn't be too hard,” he said with a quick shrug of his shoulders. “Whoever's wearing the transceiver will be transmitting his vitals to the collar. I just have to read the signal and decode it.”
“Can't you just block the signal?” Jack asked.
Ben squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head with a growl. “Too dangerous,” he explained. “The collar might be programmed to activate if anything disrupts the signal. We want to bring her out of this alive.”
“You find her,” Jena said, “you bring her out. I'll have a car waiting to pick you up. Any last minute questions?”
No one said a word.
“Then let's do this.”
Chapter 25
The limo door swung open to reveal a man in a white linen shirt and a black vest who leaned forward. He smiled as he poked his head through the door. “So pleased you could attend ma'am.”
Anna got out of the car.
She stood on the curved driveway with two hands clutching her purse, the wind teasing her short brown hair. “What a lovely house!” she exclaimed. “Thank you. I look forward to a wonderful evening.”
The sprawling monstrosity that Senator Camacho actually called his home had two wings and a large porch where white pillars supported an overhanging roof. From here, she could already see men in tuxes and women in colourful dresses climbing the steps to the front entrance. This was going to be a long night.
Ben climbed out of the car behind her, straightening with a grunt. He smiled for the attendant, then nodded his appreciation. “Thank you, my good man,” he said, offering a folded bill. “Keep up the good work.”
He took Anna by the arm.
Despite Gabi's insistence that it might look out of place, she had decided to wear flats tonight, and she was already patting herself on the back for that moment of good sense. The steps were quite steep.
Anna Lenai avoided heels on principle – why in the Holy Companion's good name would someone short and adorable want to undermine the cute factor with unnecessary inches? – but tonight, it was especially important that she avoid pointless frivolity. This wasn't a party; it was a mission, and if she had to fight, she wanted as much mobility as she could manage in this silly dress.
Anna sucked on her lower lip. “This just seems wrong to me,” she said, turning her head to survey her surroundings. “Elsewhere on this planet, people die of starvation, and these people dine in opulence.”
Ben wore a smooth expression, his eyes fixed dead ahead. “You're being tense,” he whispered, patting her arm. “Remember, for the remainder of the evening, you are one of these people. Act like you're enjoying yourself.”
In her mind's eye, she could see Jack and Gabi coming up the stairs behind them, linked arm in arm. They were a pair of silhouettes in the misty fog. There were times when she envied Jack's ability to project colour onto his spatial awareness. Not that it mattered much. She was intimately aware of everything around her.
A doorman in a tux with a white shirt and bow-tie stood on the stop step with a tablet in hand. “Name?” he said without so much as looking up as they approached. So impersonal. Was that supposed to be the point?
“Kenneth Feng,” Ben said.
“Linda Feng,” Anna added.
The doorman finally looked up, blinking at them. “Oh yeah,” he said, checking the tablet once again. “We had your names added to the list this afternoon. You're both with Michaelson International, aren't you?”
Ben forced a warm smile, bowing his head to the other man. “That's right,” he said with a curt nod. “We're both big supporters of the senator's campaign. This country needs leadership from people who realize it's the twenty-first century.”
“Go on in.”
Once they were past him, other men in similar livery – was that the correct word for what these men wore? – stepped forward and began waving scanners over them. The small, wrist-mounted devices were one of the gestures of good will that her people had offered when making first contact with the Earthers. They were not full multi-tools, but they would detect most Leyrian firearms. She felt naked without her gun. Even more so without her multi-tool.
Closing her eyes, Anna sniffed to show her disapproval. “Is this really necessary?” The disdain in her voice was a shock. “Surely you can see that this dress offers very few places to conceal a weapon.”
One of the men glanced over his shoulder with a frown, watching her for a very long moment. “Standard precaution, ma'am,” he said. “Shouldn't take more than a few seconds.”
“They're clean,” another said.
Anna stiffened, heaving out a sigh of frustration. “I could have told you that myself before you wasted your energy.” She pushed past them with an angry stride. “Let's go, Kenneth. We have things to do.”
Ben followed, struggling to keep up.
He smiled down at himself, nearly bursting into outright laughter. “So you do have a small talent for acting,” he muttered. “A few more displays like that, and everyone will believe you're a short-tempered junior executive.”
The foyer was a large room with white tiled floors and curving staircases that led up to a balcony. Bright chandeliers in the ceiling seemed to shimmer as if filled with the light of the morning sun itself.
Craning her neck, Anna felt her eyes widen. “You've got to see it to believe it,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Who needs all this junk? You could probably feed half the city's poor with the contents of this house.”
Ben nudged her.
Slapping a palm over her forehead, Anna groaned. “Yeah, I know,” she whispered, making her way across the floor tiles. “Keep it to yourself. Don't get too judgmental or you'll tip off the locals.”
At the back of the foyer, a set of stairs led down to a room with hardwood floors, crescent-shaped couches and a fireplace. A bar along the wall to her left was operated by a young man who wore the same outfit as the other servants. Or were they caterers? She didn't know, and she wasn't going to expend the mental energy to figure it out. Couples were circulating, mingling and talking quietly with one another.
A sliding glass door on the far side of the room revealed even more people out on the patio, bathed in the blue light that radiated from the swimming pool. No sign of Keli, but then it wasn't like Camacho would have her out in the open.
“What now?” she whispered.
A servant approached, presenting six flutes of champagne on a silver platter. Ben took two and offered one to her. He waited for the man to leave before speaking. “We mingle,” he said softly. “We keep our eyes peeled and look for signs of a telepath.”
Anna hesitated. Normally, she wouldn't mind a little champagne – she abstained mainly to keep Seth happy
– but even setting aside her symbiont's concerns, it was not a good time to be tipsy.
“Drink,” Ben whispered. “You're playing a role. If people don't see you imbibing, they're going to suspect you might have ulterior motives.” Anna sighed and did as she was told. Seth would have to forgive her later. This, she realized, was going to be one very long evening.
A sliding glass door on the second level opened onto a balcony that overlooked the backyard patio. With a crescent moon high in the night sky and plenty of solitude, this would be the perfect spot for a little alone time with your date, which was why no one would question it when they used it to spy on the people below.
Jack stepped outside at a cautious pace, feeling more than a little uncomfortable in this getup. And sadly, that was not the only source of his discomfort. He kept expecting to find well-dressed goons pulling guns on him.
Chewing on his lip, Jack turned his head to survey his surroundings. “Really fancy place,” he said, his eyebrows climbing. “I wonder just how many shady deals it takes to get your hands on a house like this.”
Gabrina was at his side, smiling down at herself. “You're unused to opulence,” she said, tossing her head to fling long black hair over her shoulder. “I will admit that it's not something I grew up with either.”
“But you got used to it?”
“In time.”
Jack leaned over the railing with his arms crossed, frowning into the backyard. “I don't see any sign of our wayward friend,” he muttered. “Which doesn't mean anything. She has a subtle touch.”
Down below, several dozen people stood on the concrete patio that surrounded an oddly-shaped pool where floodlights made the waters glow a bright sapphire blue. Each and every one of them looked perfectly at ease. If Keli were here, it stood to reason that she would have caused some drama by picking through these people's thoughts to learn their deepest darkest secrets, but there was no evidence of that.
Gabrina looked over her shoulder, blinking at him. “You're feeling tense,” she said, arching a thin dark eyebrow. “Would you have been happier if Anna had been chosen to be your date?”
Jack closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “No, it's not that,” he said, shaking his head. “I just feel a bit out of place at any event that requires formal attire. I spent the night of my senior prom shooting pool in a dirty old bar.”
“Why's that?”
“I don't know.”
She offered a warm smile as she leaned in close, her cheeks flushed to a deep red. Had he ever seen Gabi display even the tiniest hint of chagrin? She always seemed to be the very image of poise. “Well, you're up on a balcony with a beautiful woman,” she said. “People are going to think you're up to no good if you don't make your intentions clear.”
For a moment, he wondered if she meant what he thought she meant. Somehow, he could never make himself believe that a woman would show interest in him. Then again, self-conscious Jack was supposed to be a thing of the past.
He gently cupped her face in both hands and pressed his lips to hers. Any thought that she might not reciprocate his attraction vanished. There was passion in her kiss. You would have thought he'd have known as much after she told him she wanted to have sex with him, but he was Jack Hunter.
In his mind's eye, he saw the glass door slide open to allow a heavyset man in his middle years onto the balcony. This guy had a black suit, a thick face and gray hair that he wore slicked back.
He looked up at the two of them and blinked as though unsure of what to do. “My apologies…” he said, backing up toward the door. “I only stepped outside for a smoke. I didn't realize the balcony was occupied.”
Jack broke the kiss.
Pressing a fist to his forehead, he wiped away a layer of sweat. “It's all right,” he said, turning to the other man. “I think we just got a little carried away there. Young love and all that.”
The newcomer stood with hands shoved into his pockets, smiling down at his own shoes. “I can understand that,” he said, shuffling forward. “It hasn't been so long since I was there myself. You support the senator's re-election campaign?”
Jack crossed his arms as he slouched against the railing, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, he's better than the competition,” he said. “But I'm sure you know how it is with politicians.”
“You sound like you don't trust him.”
Tilting his head back, Jack blinked up at the heavens. “It's more this house I don't trust,” he muttered under his breath. “Something about this place just makes me uneasy. Like it knows my secrets or something.”
“I think it's the company. The people here have a way of looking at you like they can look right through you.”
“I know what you mean.”
The man put his back to the two of them. “I'll let you get back to your evening,” he said, making his way back to the door. “Good luck. Maybe I'll see you downstairs when the senator gives his toast.”
Gabrina shot a glance in his direction, her dark eyes full of curiosity. “That was…” She pursed her lips and nodded slowly. “Not half bad. You've got a bit of a knack for slipping into any role.”
“Yeah well…” Jack muttered. “Comes from years and years of dealing with bullies. You learn how to make them do what you want while convincing them it was their idea.”
“Very sexy.”
“If you say so.”
“So you think the telepath is here?” The slight scowl on Gabi's face told him that she was still skeptical. “You realize a slightly flustered reaction from one gentleman is hardly proof of anything.”
“I know,” he said. “But we can keep looking.”
After a few minutes of schmoozing – a skill that Ben had not had the opportunity to use in a long while – he managed to find his way to a bathroom where he could get some privacy. The place was dark as he stepped inside, but it wasn't hard to find a light switch.
Cream-coloured wallpaper covered almost every surface in this coffin of a room where a toilet faced a sink with a round mirror. There wasn't even enough space for him to stretch his arms out.
He retrieved his multi-tool from his pocket, cradling it in his palm. Trapping one button on the metal disk, he activated the holographic interface. A transparent rectangle of blue light appeared before him with icons to indicate various apps.
He gestured over one, causing it to display a program that would scan the area for any signals that might correspond to a slaver's collar. Not the most effective way to use the tool – the touch-screen was much easier – but he couldn't exactly wear the thing on his wrist, now could he?
Squiggly holographic lines appeared, mapping out the signals of various cellular phones as they interfaced with the satellites in orbit of this planet. What a nightmare. At least two dozen EM signals all at once.
Ben shut his eyes, sweat prickling on his forehead. “Come on, come on…” he whispered to himself. “I don't have all bloody evening. Find the guy already!”
A knock at the door.
Ben glanced over his shoulder, squinting at the wall. “Just a minute!” he exclaimed, without any need to feign panic. “I'll be right out!”
“No problem!”
He sat on the toilet.
Closing his eyes, Ben forced out a breath. “Come on…” He scraped a knuckle across the tip of his nose. “It can't be that hard to find a bloody slaver's collar. Unless, of course, the woman isn't even here.”
He tapped a button on the multi-tool, disabling its interface. This wasn't going to work; with several dozen cellphones all pinging their satellites, he wasn't going to be able to find the signal he wanted in all that noise. It was a good attempt, he thought. We'll just have to try something else.
One thing she hadn't noticed on her first trip through the foyer was the ivory statue of a headless naked woman who stood with one hand on her hip. It was one of the gaudiest things she had ever seen, and it stood there to greet every guest who endured the misfortune of setting fo
ot in this house.
Anna stood before it with hands clasped behind her back, craning her neck to take in the sight. “Wonderful…” she said, her eyebrows rising. “Keep all the most important parts and cut out the excess.”
“You don't like the statue?”
She turned to find a man in an impeccable tux standing just a few feet away – a tall man with broad shoulders and thick muscles. His copper-skinned face was marked by a few light wrinkles, and his gray hair was neatly combed.
Anna smiled, bowing her head to the man. “Senator Camacho,” she said, taking a few steps forward. “You'll have to forgive me, but I really don't think that you and I share a taste in fine art.”
The senator cocked his head to one side, blinking at her. “But we do share a taste in politics, it seems,” he said, approaching her with caution. “Strange, but I do not think I've ever seen you before.”
“No indeed.”
“Then perhaps we should remedy that situation.”
Lifting her chin, Anna narrowed her eyes. “Linda Feng,” she said with a curt nod. “My husband and I have been supporters of your campaign for quite some time now. Oh! Here he comes now!”
On the other side of the foyer, Ben strode toward them with hands shoved into his pockets, keeping his head down. “Honey!” she called out. “Come meet the senator. He's been discussing some of the more colorful artwork he's collected.”
The senator looked over his shoulder with a tight frown, squinting at Ben. No doubt he was feeling just a little bit perturbed by the fact that the woman he was trying to hit on had a husband. “A pleasure.”
Ben offered a cheeky grin, nodding to the man. “Likewise,” he said, extending his hand. “Linda and I have been following your career for a little while. This country needs people of vision to pull it forward.”
“I couldn't agree more.”
Camacho shut his eyes, letting out a deep breath. “So you're a follower of my campaign,” he murmured. “Tell me again…Who are you with?”
