by Pam Uphoff
The groom waffled. "Sorry, sorry, she's just . . . "
"Flaming mad because I just dropped her horse's standings. He'll still make the team, if she can interest a good enough rider. Crystal's out of the running for Class A Regional Champion this year, possibly permanently, depending on how that tendon heals. Remind the mistress of that, when you talk to her next. It'll cheer her up." He hefted the bag, balanced his saddle on his shoulder and started walking.
As Major Eppa eased his cargo down the road, Xiat spotted Dewulfe getting on a bus. One Hell, the man didn’t deserve that.
Paer's accident was all over the news, spilling into sports and the standings in Class A. The society pages were full of speculation about Endi's actual status. "I always knew he wasn't really a Halfer." The interviewee was the wife, divorce in progress, of the undersecretary of the War Party. "But, the training he showed last night, he must be a With the One."
Xiat nodded to herself. That shield, those techniques . . . why is he hiding what he is? How is he hiding it? The DNA tests showed no power gene—which is just flat not true.
And why did he show it to the world, if hiding it was so important to him? Did he think we'd be so focused on the girl that no one would closely watch what he was doing to the horse? All those War Party wives he has hanging all over him were probably watching him as closely as I was, mentally and especially, magically.
Couldn't he resist a horse in distress?
***
"I see the President's daughter is doing her social duty tonight. Charming the old men while all the women's protective instincts are aroused by the bruises."
Izzo followed Director Orku's gaze. Paer was holding court just beyond her father, one ankle in compression bandages, half perched on a stool. Xiat was few feet away from the girl, on close bodyguard duty in full uniform tonight, instead of pretending to be a servant.
"Probably to squash any rumors of serious injury." Izzo pulled his eyes off of Xiat, tried to concentrate on the business of observing a party full of political dynamite.
They joined the line, formal greetings for a formal reception, this time, and shook hands with the President.
"How do you stay so fit, Orku? I need to put in more work on the salle. After all who needs sleep, eh? Efge, good to see nothing bit you. Uzga, congratulations to you and Poppy. Izzo, right? I have high hopes for you, always like to see a varied background in my analysts." They passed on, Izzo a bit shocked to have been recognized.
Paer had a bandage wrapped around her right hand. Kept her grip on the reins, right. Friction burns, probably. So she smiled instead of shaking hands.
" . . . sure you'll be right back in the saddle." The Director was being trite, trying to talk to a kid.
"Thank you, sir . . . Director, do you know where to find Endi? I need to write him a letter, thanking him and, well I feel so bad that horrible woman fired him."
"Senior Analyst Izzo can probably help you there . . . I suppose if you need a personal trainer while you recuperate . . ."
The girl shot to her feet, stumbled a bit and hopped on one foot. "Dad! Did you hear that? The Director just had a brilliant idea! You know Madam Chin has to take her other students to the Italian shows. I need a personal trainer while she's gone. Endi Dewulfe would be perfect!"
Her voice had been loud enough to catch a large number of ears. Xiat looked alarmed. Faces turned and local background noise dropped as everyone listened for the President's response.
"Umm, security? I thought he was hiding his background?"
"We investigated." Orku said. "He and a sister have genetic problems, their family doesn't acknowledge them. Or, at any rate the family we think are his parents. One of my analysts got punched when he confronted the mother, trying for a definite identification."
"Err, those three rape genes?"
"No sir, they are from a High Withione family, with mutations. Endi was born without the One Gene, and the sister, well, that's private."
"Huh. I figured he was a Halfer."
"For all intents and purposes, sir." Orku shifted a bit. "He has a reputation with women. But it's with the game wives who are chasing him. He never takes advantage of those teenagers throwing themselves at him. We've been watching him, because of the family connections to another case. But perhaps I should have thought before suggesting hiring him. You have to consider his reputation. Politically and morally. It’s all well and good to say he doesn’t take advantage of the teenagers—but they all have his pictures from that magazine spread stuck up on their walls."
Urfa winced. "Yes. Well."
"Dad! He wasn’t actually naked in any of them."
The President hesitated. "I am not going to ask how you know. Orku, get me a contact number tomorrow. I’ll . . . consult."
"Certainly, sir."
Paer was nearly dancing on one foot. "Do you know where he is . . . Was it Isso?"
"Izzo." Xiat corrected quietly from behind her.
The little princess looked back and forth and her grin managed to widen. "Xiat, do you have a boyfriend?"
"No."
"Yes." Izzo grinned too. "Until she kills me. I investigated Endi Dewulfe's sister for something unrelated. I'll see if he's at her place in Le Havre, or if she knows where to contact him."
"Excellent."
As they walked away, he heard her again. "You wouldn't really kill him would you?"
"Probably not."
"He's not as cute as Endi, but he's not bad."
"Oh, so suddenly Endi's cute instead of a . . . "
Izzo turned his attention forward. Efge was holding Uzga's arm, shaking his head. "Not here. Calm down!"
"Look at her! I don't believe this. I haven't bothered the stupid bitch for months. Look at her! Everyone saw who she walked off with . . . Of course there’s someone else, but they’re going to assume . . . " Uzga turned abruptly and stalked off toward the nearest bar. Izzo wandered off to the side. He spotted several familiar women in the crowd. There was Uzga's wife . . . she was laughing with a group of women, most of whom he recognized well enough to put names to or associate with husbands. Uzga's Poppy looked happy. What had the President said? Congratulations? Shaking hands—any physical contact with a pregnant woman tended to be distinct and clear. And Uzga not pleased . . . a lot of that going around. If Uzga was sensible he'd pretend he had been 'bothering' his wife regularly, and divorce her quietly later. Better to keep his job and social prestige. Does an assigned princess get recalled when her target loses his position? Does Uzga have a princess? Must, if he's been ignoring a beauty like Poppy. I’m surprised he doesn’t bring her to parties, or is that in bad taste?
Then his analytical side cut in. Pity Poppy didn't wait another year, it would have boosted my chances for a promotion. Assuming he doesn't rein in his temper, and manage to ride this through. Except he's already told Efge . . .
Efge and Orku had their heads together. ". . . fourth one. Makes me glad I'm not married just now."
Orku nodded. "Haav is one gene away from perfect, thank the One. No matter what games she plays on her own, she'll have a damned hard time impacting me. The early observations that Dewulfe was only going so far should have alerted us to the possibility of the wives satisfying themselves elsewhere, with a Withione." He shot a glance toward Izzo. "Take this as a lesson."
Izzo shrugged. "It hardly seems worth the fuss. Divorce her for cause and go on to the next one." Early observations? Someone was watching Dewulfe? For the Directorate or for the War Party?
"The next one won't want him, he's just been proven not good enough."
"Really? I'm afraid I'm not one of the 'everyone knows who she walked off with' group." Surely they don't mean . . .
"Endi Dewulfe. And there the idiot goes." Orku turned away. "Maybe I can ignore it all. "
"That's the best idea. The genetics—let alone the behavior—of their wives is no way to select people for high governmental positions, you know." Izzo watched as Uzga wove through the crowd
and homed in on Poppy.
"You bitch! What have you done!" The two drinks had had an unfortunate effect on his volume control. "Letting your lover get you pregnant!"
"I can't believe he just said that in public!" Orku growled.
"An effect of the collective subconscious?" Izzo speculated. "Or just lost his temper?"
Poppy’s pleased expression changed to shock. " . . . he can't have . . . love you!"
"Who is it? How could you?"
Poppy wiped a hand across her eyes. She looked like she was getting angry herself, now. Her voice rose. "You just ignored me. It's your own One bedamned fault!"
"Where is he?"
". . . know damned well who. He can't have . . . must be yours, just a bit late glowing . . . " She stumbled back and went down as he swung at her. Two other women crowded in then, separating them. Security. Good. Uzga and Poppy were herded off in opposite directions.
Izzo sighed and got himself a glass of red wine. He caught Efge's eye. "Fortunately I'll be tracking down Endi Dewulfe for the President tomorrow."
Efge snorted. "In person, of course. Out of town. Wise man. I'd recommend you make a really long day of it, maybe forget your comm."
"An excellent thought, sir."
The rest of the evening was calmer on the surface, but Izzo noted a tendency for the wives' clique to huddle and look worried.
Chapter Nineteen
Paris, European Region
5 Nicholas 1396 yp
In the morning Izzo visited the office, early. "Glue? Do you have the contact information for Endi Dewulfe's putative family? I'm supposed to track him down, and if he's not at that shop in Le Havre, he may have headed home to India."
"I recommend you sensibly comm the potential mother, so you don't get punched for claiming that she could possibly have had a defective child, let alone two." Glue grinned. "My poor minion! He's very proud of the bloody nose she gave him. And if it gets very unpleasant around here, I might try to think up an excuse go ask her something in person." He pointed upward. "Uzga is in. Very early, very quiet in a volcanic sort of way and everyone is tiptoeing."
"Except the ones measuring for new drapes? I'm surprised you aren't up there."
Glue hesitated. "I . . . barely fence, I'm miserable at parties. I'm a shockingly high graded member of a Servaone family . . . I'd be insane to even try, and miserable if I succeeded. You going to try for it?"
"By doing what? I don't understand this game. I keep missing things."
"At least you can fence. I heard Efge tell Uzga that you even made Akja fire to his limit."
Izzo blinked. "Err, I really don't think so."
Glue scribbled something on a scrap of paper and handed it over. "Endi's mother's number. Mind you, the relationship isn't confirmed. There are all those hundreds of other people with genetic drops I'm trying to locate."
Izzo turned his head at the sound of raised voices. "See you tomorrow." He hustled out, ashamed to be ducking out of what was probably going to be an epically miserable day at the office, for everyone else. He hesitated, then decided there wasn't any rush. Might as well start with a decent breakfast.
At home he found the building superintendent just locking up. "There's nothing wrong with the drains. And you ought to call me first, whenever you have a problem."
Izzo contemplated the man and sighed. I wonder who's just bugged my apartment? He headed for his desk and hunted down a handful of tiny items. He hadn't bothered installing his security cams since moving in. Perhaps he should put them inside instead of out, as at his previous residence. Different city, different challenges. Political Games. One help me. He set them carefully to cover nearly the entire interior. Old Native Homestead sayings about installing a relief valve after you've burst your steam chamber came to mind. Among other things. Note to self. Turn them off when Xiat comes over. He put the last pickups down the hall, covering the stairs, the elevators and his front door. He tested the system, looked at the clock and abandoned ideas of any breakfast at all.
Once in Le Havre he strolled down toward the ceramics shop. He slowed his already leisurely pace as he noticed the empty gutters, the clean sidewalks. Two women were waving their arms, not at him, but the empty windows of an empty building.
" . . . manikins in the window showing the eye-catchers."
"We could put up posters, too!"
Apparently the neighborhood was headed upwards. He followed the odor of pastries around a corner, but sauntered on by when he spotted the two men at the counter. Este and Endi. Drat, job completed for the day.
He positioned himself and spotted them returning to the shop, bakery box in hand. Then he headed for the train station. He might as well join the fun at the office. After he hit the bakery.
He called the Government House number he'd been given to leave the comm number and address of the ceramics shop, polished off his donuts as the train pulled into the station and was walking into the Interior Relations building as everyone else returned from lunch.
Glue and the other analysts were gathered around the coffee machine. The chatter paused briefly for guilty, then relieved, looks as Izzo walked in.
"Uzga has resigned, taking up a new position in Khartoum."
"The Director said he'd talk to everyone, umm, in about an hour. Subdirector Efge has been upstairs with him for the last hour."
Izzo sighed. "Is anyone getting any work done? I expect they'll slide someone over from the Criminal branch, if none of the other Senior Analysts are lobbying for the position. How much time in slot do Agra and Yhgi have? Obviously, I'm at the bottom of the list, with less than a year."
Idvu looked over at him. "You're a hot shot, though. You've got ten years of Directorate experience, on top of twenty-five years of police work, and two university degrees."
"Don't play the social game, not trying very hard at the salle, miss references at private meals. No way. I'm going to go type up another damned report, call me when we've got a boss to send it to." He found a toothpick and started chewing. The hick habit drew the laughs he'd expected. He stumped down to his office, and curious, flipped to his security company. Red Alert in progress. His apartment door was open. An odd blurriness that ought to have had the security program calling the cops was moving through the living room toward the bedroom.
"One!" He checked that the police were enroute, found a block, keyed in to remove it, didn't have a high enough access. He picked up his comm, dead. He trotted up two floors to the Criminal Investigations Department, co-opted the receptionist's comm and called the police the old fashioned way. The receptionist watched with her mouth open, as he pulled up his security cams for the police and displayed them on her wall monitor as well. The blurriness, standard wraparound camouflage, was in his bedroom, unwrapping a bundle, heaving a limp naked female onto his bed. Long black hair. "Add paramedics, I'll meet them all there." Izzo looked around, they'd gathered a fair audience. He caught the eyes of one of the regulars at the salle. "Here's your game in action." He gave him a toothy grin. "Remember that all calls will be checked. So you can give away yourself and your Principal."
The man looked offended. And hopefully wouldn't be calling in a clean up. If that woman was still alive, only responding fast enough to find her still there would save her. Izzo cast a look at the monitor. Blurs departing. He ran for the stairs.
The fellow from the salle was right on his heels. "You are going to need all the witnesses you can find."
"Not that it'll do any good. I could have faked that, or recorded it and replayed it hours later. I didn't start that security program until after my apartment was cased this morning, but I have no witnesses for that. Someone thought I didn't have security monitors. They must have just caught on, and instead of taking the time to hunt it down, blocked the alarm calls and my comm."
"If they're trying to pin blame on you, they'll have to destroy the recordings."
"They blocked the call to the police, so they know the company. Probably be their next st
op."
The tram had never been slower. There were police cars and an ambulance in front of his building. He slowed as he stepped out of the way of the departing woman. Her face was covered with an oxygen mask, lights were flashing and beeping. She was alive, so far. He'd met her at a party. Fair? Vair? Voyage? Something like that.
More police were arriving. Izzo introduced himself as he shoved into the elevator with them. One of them attached himself to Izzo as they exited, led him to the officer in charge. Izzo pulled up the security program and ran the recording through from the start. "I hadn't bothered installing it until this morning when someone gained access on the strength of a faked plumbing complaint. Has anyone contacted the Building Super? I'm surprised he isn't here . . . or maybe I should be alarmed that he isn't here."
Two patrollers left.
"Anyway, I installed it this morning. Fast forwarding . . ." he stopped at the front door opening, backtracked to watch the hall cam. The stairwell door opened and closed. Blurs coming closer. The tip of an instrument showed long enough to unlock his door.
"Recorded it when the Super opened it earlier," the Investigator muttered.
The blurs walked straight to the bedroom, stripped the bedding back, dumped the woman, arranged her limbs naturally, pulled up the sheet. Departed. Quick, slick. Professional. Five minutes later the police entered, the two patrollers looked around, found the bedroom, felt the woman's neck for a pulse.
"Good thing the paras were already on the way. They said her blood alcohol was sky high, and there was a chemical depressant with it. Now. I really hate political investigations, but we might as well get started."
Izzo sighed. "It was known that I would be away from the office, in Le Havre, today. Due to an unpleasantness expected to hit the office, there had been joking comments bandied about last night, about my taking the whole day for the task. In fact, I stopped by the office early to pick up some other info. Then I decided I might as well have a breakfast at home instead of eating the plastic stuff they have at the train station. I came up as the Super was locking up, the 'plumber' had already gone. I assumed I had been bugged, got out my old security cams and set the system up—I moved in a few months ago and hadn't bothered. Then I went to Le Havre, found what I needed immediately, and returned." He fished his comm out of his pocket. "Still dead. I called in some information from Le Havre without a problem. Went to the office. Flipped on my security to see if it was working properly. Found this in progress. There was a block, the security program hadn't called the police. My comm was dead. I trotted upstairs, out of the analysts' section and called from the receptionist's there."
