by Pam Uphoff
Something in Axel’s posture must have warned him, at any rate he stopped himself.
"This is intensive Mentalist work. There are no working class True Men who are capable of this. Very few High Mentalists are trained in physical manipulations. Be glad that I can, and will."
Young-seeming—probably regenned and over the century mark—stiffened in offence. Slapped out a pain impression, as if he were a servant or a cyborg.
Axel caught it and pulled the power from it. "So, what else may I show you gentlemen?"
"I understand that Vladimir's office was extensively damaged."
"Oh, yes. Very. And we’re concentrating on the Grand Hall, so very little has been done back here." Axel waved to the side and the men headed that direction.
He hung back and let them view the disaster for themselves. Carnage from the secretary's antechamber, into the larger office, and on to the once-concealed door, now a bullet riddled mess leading to a staircase . . .
Lord Vasily walked back, looking stunned. "I don't understand what happened."
"The Governor will be making an Address to the Council in," glance at watch, "two hours. I recommend watching it. I will not release any information in advance."
Young-seeming pushed through the others. "There was a battle here! I demand to know what happened!"
"I'm sorry, we haven't been introduced."
The man drew himself up. "I am Old Mentalist Lord Yuri Petrov. Councilman. Twelfth Plat District."
"Councilman, a pleasure, I'm sure. Governor Berezin prefers to be the first to talk about this. Demand answers of him."
"I can have you up before the Council!"
"If you think I can add to what you learn in two hours, I will speak to the Council."
The man glared . . . but turned and stalked out to stare up at the second floor balcony. "Lord Andre, Lord Nikoli? Do you have anything to say?"
His cousins shook their heads and walked away.
At least their wigs look all right from this distance.
Petrov reddened, fists clenched. But the two large young men, standing side-by-side a quarter of the way up the stairs, may have kept him from trying to follow and confront them.
"They have received a series of shocks, and, well, listen to the Governor. You'll understand." Axel looked around at the group. "Tomorrow you will have enough information to . . . ask for details as they affect the House and the Trust."
He glanced at the stairs and nodded approval to Dimitri and Barf.
The baffled and now very uneasy group bumbled their way out, stopping three times inside, and once outside to speculate about what gang of robbers could possibly . . . or had there been a dangerous rogue Cyborg, or, or . . .
None of them dared say treason. Or perhaps it truly didn't occur to them.
Natasha stepped out of the inner hallway, a small tray in hand. Axel pointed at the small dining room (barely room for a dozen diners) and walked across to sit where he had sight of the front doors and could watch for Petrov, in case he wanted to argue further.
Natasha circled the table to avoid blocking his view and set the tray down in front of him.
"I wasn't sure if you'd had lunch, and after the Mentalist work, you probably need . . . well . . . I don't actually know. The Mentalist part of being your minion is new to me."
"If in doubt, apple juice is always a good choice . . . hmm, beer? Good enough, but I'd better be stone cold sober before the Address to the Council." Axel thought that over. "Or very drunk."
Chapter Twenty-four
The Governor's Address
Thursday, January 3, 3739
Senior Detective Vlad Gagarin stepped over his sister and flopped down in a big armchair. She's reading. Talking. Acting like a teenager, instead of a five year old.
"I'm going to turn on the TV for the Governor's speech. You might want to haul all your books to your room."
"Dad said he's probably going to talk about the invasion. I want to hear all about it."
Dad laughed as he trotted down the stairs. "You can't fool us, you just want to hear all about what Red and Brown did."
Vlad turned on the TV, set it to record so he could go through it bit-by-bit later, and analyze the hell out of it.
On screen they were still at the hand shaking and "thank you for letting me address the Council on this serious matter that I wanted to bring you up to date on" stage.
The head of the Council sat back down and the Governor took a deep breath. "Some time, probably over two years ago, your fellow Councilor Vladimir Eduard Vinogradov decided that he should be the Governor of Siberia Max, and that since his fellows were disinclined to even nominate him, let alone elect him . . . that he would take it by force."
He paused for the shocked reaction, then continued.
"As part of his power play, he contacted, then contracted with a mercenary company operating out of Tier Four Hub Budapest Reborn. We suspect, from observation and questioning, that the mercenary company had close ties to the government and often acted as their agents.
"Before Lord Vladimir's plans were completed, he suffered a stroke and died."
Another pause for the Councilors to settle down.
"A City Policeman, Senior Detective Gagarin, investigating the death, found a working dimensional beacon of Budapest Reborn manufacture in Vinogradov House. An Alliance Fast Response Team responded immediately. While they were present, a portal was opened. Our Inquisitor Gorbachev crossed over with an agent, had a very brief verbal exchange with them, and retreated back through the portal under fire."
A definite rumble from the watchers. Sounding both angry and alarmed.
"Alliance Intelligence took over the investigation and found a list of properties belonging to Lord Vladimir. They immediately sent people out to look at these properties, which is why we spotted the invasion at such an early stage. Which, yes, was coming from a warehouse owned by Lord Vladimir."
"Just days later, Budapest Reborn opened another portal in Vinogradov House. Our police investigators were on site and noted something odd about Lord Andre Vinogradov and Lord Nikoli Vinogradov, and again alerted us. The Lords were ringers. Imposters. A gun battle in Vinogradov House ensued.
"One imposter was killed, the other captured.
"On the authority of both the Joint Bureaus and the Inquisition, an agent was sent to Budapest Reborn. He returned with the two missing men, and four more people. One, a citizen of Siberia Max—whose imposter we now also have in custody—and two citizens of Tier Two Stuttgart."
A faint smile. "And Budapest Reborn's only Portalmaker."
A bit of a group boggle, then thin smiles as they realized that Budapest Reborn was without working portals.
"At this point, I think we need to take a deep breath and do a lot of thinking and planning." He gave a nod to some in the hall. "After consulting with the Intelligence and Foreign Affairs committees, we suggest that we open a portal to Tier Two Stuttgart to return their kidnapped citizens, and speak to them about mutual security arrangements."
Then he definitely had to stop for the noise to die back down.
"We will take no actions without Council support and approval."
"Damn, son. You found a portal beacon?" Mitty shook his head at the screen, where three hundred Councilmen were either putting their heads together, pulling out their phones or both.
Vlad grinned. "Yep. I was with Natasha, and we were thoroughly lost in that damned maze. There was a communications damper close by, and a damn good thing Tasha could telepath Axel. He called in the Fast Response Team and he was the one who went across with the Inquisitor.
"That was when I realized he really, really wasn't a worthless layabout. Quite apart from what he did to them when they invaded."
"So, is he the one who rescued those people? Did they really send him in alone?"
Dina grinned. "Of course! Who else would they send?"
Vlad shook his head. "This is the first I've heard that Andre and Nikoli were retr
ieved." He started laughing. "And he stole their Portalmaker! Oh, that's rich!"
I wonder what they'll have him doing next?
Chapter Twenty-five
Rangers
Thursday, January 3, 3739
"Father must have been duped."
Natasha looked over to where Lord Andre had his face buried in his hands, then over to his twin.
The day before yesterday they were so cocky. They were a month away from their fiftieth birthday, planning a big party spanning midnight to honor them both. Today, a public announcement that their father was a traitor.
Lord Nikoli had tears running down his face as he shook his head. "No one ever duped Father. This is why he wouldn't let us move to the west wing. He had a beacon there."
"Why didn't they take it away?"
They did. The imposters brought another one.
The two ladies had abandoned their husbands and were sitting close together.
Natasha caught a whisper from Veronika.
"They'll take everything. The government. We'll be destitute . . . I'll have to take the children to my father . . . Surely my father will present Ivan, when he comes of age . . ."
A faint sob from Anastaciya.
Her father's dead, she has nowhere to go.
Not to mention the government can take all hundred and fiftyish servants and their children. Sixty of them. Us four, the Rangers . . . Lord Axel owns us, so he ought to be able to keep us.
She bit her lip. :: Pauli? Pack up your essential computer equipment. It might be time for us to separate ourselves from everything the government may confiscate. ::
:: Oh crap! They wouldn't! . . . We've got the spending authorization. Let's rent some place and get all our stuff gone. And all of Axel's books, too. :: His mental voice never stuttered.
Dimitri chimed in. :: Yes, Miss Ranger. ::
Whoa! I like that! Natasha Ranger!
A mental snicker from Barf. :: Can you spoof the owner? We could be real secret agents! ::
:: Boys! Keep it honest . . . but that's not a bad idea. Maybe spoof who owns AIV Enterprises? In such a way that you can unspoof it as soon as Lord Axel yells at us? ::
:: Right. :: Pauli sounded much too gleeful. :: Just learning how to do it, in case we ever really need to disappear. Sorry, Boss, I'll fix it immediately! ::
Natasha sighed in exasperation. :: Don't get so involved you forget to pack and leave. Axel will get pissed if you got swept up by the government and tossed into a public auction. ::
:: You'd better believe it. :: Axel sounded amused. :: Try Lord Artimey Ivan Vyatkin. ::
Natasha glanced over her shoulder to where Lord Axel sat, speaking quietly to his twin cousins. I didn't think he could hear me!
:: It's getting hard. ::
She turned back to the two women, kneeling to offer cake. Load them up with carbs, calm them down a bit. "I'm sure Lord Axel will do everything possible to keep the house and the Lords' Trusts."
Anastaciya nodded. "He's turned out to be pretty solid." Her eyes turned to the three men. "What if everyone finds out what they did to Andre and Nikoli?"
"They. Were. Not. Chipped. The bad guys just shaved their hair off and gave them a little stab, to make them think it happened. Nasty People! What a horrible thing to make the Lords think had been done to them!"
They nodded uncertainly.
"It didn't happen. They'll be fine once they're over the shock." Natasha set the cake plates down, collected empty plates and bowls and retreated.
She dropped off the dirty dishes, paused at the little screen the servants left running to catch the Governor explaining that undoubtedly the Budapest Reborn people had Portalmaker clones in training and there was no way to tell how quickly they would get their portal running again.
She shivered. We're a tiny research world. Population just over two million. And because of our research—and needing to import almost all our food—we've got three portals. But surely a Tier Two world will be too civilized to attack us! We're doing them a favor!
She detoured to grab an empty cloth sack, then hurried to her locker. She didn't have much, but she carefully folded half her clothes and then wound up stuffing them in the sack.
She left the sack in an empty room in the inner core of the ground floor, convenient to the east-side entrance. Dropped down to the kitchen to pick up five sandwiches to take up to the second floor—they were watching the address from Nikloi and Veronica's living room—where she found Andre back on his feet. "And that's why you made us turn off our phones."
"Yes. I'll set people up in offices to field all calls and teach them how to answer them. And which calls to pass through."
Nikoli frowned. "Where is Mr. Solovsky?"
"Up Top . . . they needed Inquisitors to take all the compulsions and controls off him. It wasn't very good for his brain. He's telling them everything. Poor thing. I . . . do not expect him to come back."
Both men nodded.
"Good." Andre sniffed. "Lenni'll be just as good."
Nikoli nodded. "And Osip. Thank God Father never had them to train himself. When things get back to normal we'll get them executive plates."
If they aren't confiscated.
Natasha set down plates and retreated as more servants entered with drinks and deserts.
Down the hall, around the corner . . . Pauli, of course, was totally engrossed in his endeavors and hadn't packed a thing.
Natasha eyed Lord Axel's books, stuffed into mismatched bookcases, the whole length of one thirty foot wall. And parts of the opposite wall, plus there were some in the other room . . .
"And h-he's got b-boxes of books across the h-hall in a store r-r-room." Pauli didn't even look around.
"And there's his parent's old library on the third floor. Good grief. I'll go find more boxes."
Fortunately Lord Axel told them to leave his parents' apartment alone. But it still took more than a day to pack—quietly, not making a big deal of it—while Axel was called before the Council to testify.
They broadcast it, and the Rangers broke off work to watch.
They wanted the financial details. Which Axel went into, displayed on a large screen for the world to see. The Historical Trust . . . explained in detail. Lord Vladimir's trust—started with half of what he'd charged the Historical trust. Lord Vladimir's personal accounts. "Eight that we've discovered so far."
And his own sources of money.
He displayed it for everyone to see. The Trust fund he'd inherited from his father. The annual withdrawals: by the end, a hundred thousand rubles for the uncle, fifty for the child every year.
"Not that I was a child. I was thirty-five with a job that paid plenty for a bachelor with free living quarters, at the time of my father's death. My salary I put straight—after taxes and so forth—into my section four account, with a brokerage."
"Salary?" The questioner made it sound dirty.
"I grew up underfoot in the labs, is it really surprising that I'd want a job Up Top?" He was starting to sound exasperated after a few hours. "I am an Alliance employee."
Of course they wanted to see all of his accounts. And pounced on a large expenditure.
"I bought a house. Please note that the amount is well under the limit for a Young Mentalist to own."
"What did your uncle do with it?"
"Nothing. I never told him about it. I bought it before my father died, with his approval."
"What was your relationship with your uncle?"
"Bad. He was my father's younger half-brother. I disliked him, he disliked me. I spent as small an amount of time in his presence as possible."
"Did you kill him?"
"No."
"Did you know about his treason?"
"Not until the first beacon was found."
"How did you find out?"
"When the Senior Detective found the beacon, there was a communications block. My executive secretary was with him and telepathed me. As I work Up Top, I had a fairly good
idea who to call for a Fast Response Team, and did so"
I'll bet his Fast Response Team buddies are laughing their asses off.
And he called me his executive secretary!
They finally let him go . . . and he showed up a few hours later with a used box truck. They spent half the night loading, driving to a nice little warehouse/office that Pauli had rented "I w-w-was a bit w-worried about b-buying property under an alias," unloading and going back for another load.
And then carefully carrying all of Old Fedya's largest trees down from the fourth floor solarium.
Axel told them to get a good night's sleep and drove off with the old man.
Natasha exchanged glances with the guys. "All those years he trained us, to fight, and shoot . . .You know . . . it's a little scary, how serious he is about . . . survival and disappearing."
"L-like we're r-really going to n-need it? Y-yeah."
Chapter Twenty-six
Now the Men’s Turn
Saturday, January 5, 3739
Four men this time, three from Vinogradov House and one stolen Portalmaker.
At least Henrik had some idea about what might happen, and was pale with apprehension. Pasha, Isay and Iouri were dimly curious. They did some gardening, some heavy work around the house . . .
Solovsky’s brows rose when he spotted Henrik’s bald head and implants. And he brightened when Axel told him to go for the full month and see if he could dissolve the chips and studs and all.
And they may have gotten drunk and fresh with the women, but they all took rejection gracefully.
Sabina was so embarrassed. “I remember the effect. And a darn good thing we aren’t being dosed any longer!”
The other two nodded, and all three made themselves scarce. The four drunks tuned into a game on the TV and were happily cheering for “their” teams when Axel headed back home.
