Turning in her seat as her husband entered through the main doors of their apartments, Josephine palmed the viewer and slipped it between the cushions. With the doors closed and the incriminating report safely put aside, Josephine psychically projected her thoughts.
"So, what does he want?" she asked telepathically, her tone mirroring the lines of anger on her face as she referred to her despised brother-in-law.
Shaking his head, Burin let out his breath. Since their arrival at Pablen Palace, she had spoken no more than a couple of words to him at any one time. She knew he had noticed.
"Come on, Josey," Burin replied, checking to see that none of the servants were about.
She could see that he was tired, and undoubtedly had no desire to add to his fatigue by using the Mental Disciplines. Too bad for him. He should have let her stay home.
"I don't trust Seffan, and I don't want to be overheard."
Burin unfastened the stiff, wide collar of his house-uniform as he stepped further into the room. Josephine watched him with a raised brow, remaining otherwise motionless. By her posture alone, Burin should have known that she would not relent. Still he gave it some effort.
"These have been my rooms since childhood," Burin told her. "They have always been secure and free of surveillance."
"So?" Josephine countered. "It's different around here now—in case you haven't noticed."
"But I am exhausted!"
Josephine had no need for a permanent mental link to know her husband’s thoughts. It was one reason why she refused to let them establish one, though many married couples with the Training did. On some planets, a full telepathic joining highlighted the wedding ceremony. But the idea filled her with revulsion. People connected that way could find their inner thoughts being shared even without a conscious projection. Burin might dream of simply hopping and skipping about in life, but she had plans. She had secrets. And she guarded her privacy.
Burin shrugged his shoulders in surrender.
"So, what does he want?" Josephine asked again, smug in her victory.
Burin smiled, robbing her of her satisfaction. How could his losing to her be funny?
"He wanted to see us," Burin answered, unbuttoning the rest of his jacket and taking it off. Josephine always liked her rooms to be warm.
"That bastard summoned us here just to see us? Sligshit!"
Dropping his jacket over the back of a chair, Burin bobbed his head and swallowed at his wife's last remark. Josephine knew her husband’s comic exaggeration when she saw it.
"Don't make light of me!" she told him as she stood and hurried away from him. Though she could not see him, Josephine imagined Burin rolling his eyes in self-admonishment. He would pay for that. He would pay for not rushing to catch up with her too.
Burin entered the next room to see Josephine sitting on a windowsill, looking out at the mountain range in the distance. "He wants the Family to be together for the trial," Burin told her gently, stepping closer to his wife and reaching for her.
At his touch, she moved her shoulder so that his hand fell away.
"And to help where we can. This whole business is not going to be easy for him."
"I'm sick of him controlling our lives, Burin," Josephine replied, her hands shaking even as they rested in her lap. "If it's not one excuse it's another." Catching Burin’s look, Josephine stilled her trembling and kept her projected words steady. "He just orders us around, expecting us to do whatever he says. And you never stand up to him! You're a grown man, and he treats you like some stupid kid brother, unable to think for yourself."
"Seffan asked us to come," Burin responded. “My brother asked.”
"Don't serve up that crap to me!" Josephine raged, forgetting herself and almost speaking aloud. It irritated her that Burin could stay so calm. "We had no choice. I didn't want to come to this damned snake pit, and I don't want to stay. What does he really need us here for anyway?"
"For the trial," Burin insisted. "We have to present a united front. He also asked me to take some of his meetings and appointments to free up his schedule."
Josephine gave a scornful huff, only slowly seeing the effect Burin's meeting with his older brother had had on him. Ever since his marriage, Burin had felt progressively more distant from governmental affairs. Not that Burin was a man of overwrought ambition. Given that his own estates essentially ran themselves, he simply wanted to feel useful again.
Once more Burin reached for his wife's arm and, when she did not pull away, he moved next to her and kissed her temple. Josephine even let him cradle her in his arms.
"I spoke to Henely—" Burin stopped as Josephine flinched at the First Advisor's name. He never knew why she disliked the man, but Burin did the smart thing and let the matter drop.
"The trial," Josephine spat, breaking the lull between them. "I hope they get him."
"You do not mean that." Burin hated such talk, even when no one else could hear it.
"I do," Josephine insisted, facing her husband. "And I don't care if he's executed for it."
Burin stiffened and backed away from his wife, meeting her challenging eyes with his own hard stare. "You do not mean that," he repeated gravely before switching back to a projection. "You know this is a set-up."
Josephine turned to the window and lifted a finely shaped brow. "One way or another, he has only himself to blame." Knowing he was looking at her, she refused to meet his gaze.
"We will not speak of this again," Burin said, turning and heading back the way he came.
Burin was slow to anger, but once roused, Josephine knew that it was best to just let him leave. He would be back in any event, and would pretend that their argument had never occurred. That usually angered her, but this time she wondered if she ought to be relieved.
Goddamn Seffan, Josephine thought. Damn the whole lot of them.
She had to talk with Biam. She had to talk to him now. Somehow, she needed to make him understand the help she needed, and make him take her plans more seriously.
---
Down a corridor in another palace on the other side of Legan, as Josephine Possór cooed to her ambitions, Jordan Possór made his way to his latest prisoner: a DuCideon spy.
Technically, House Possór Internal Security handled all espionage cases. Proper form would have required Jordan to turn the spy over to HOPIS. But this spy was special, and Jordan had no intention of surrendering his prize before determining its worth.
Once inside his guest’s holding cell, Jordan saw a man strapped naked to a steel bed, with intravenous tubing connected to his neck, arms and legs, and electrical conductors attached around his head and over his heart. Behind him stood a member of Jordan’s security team, his black robe in contrast with the room’s antiseptic white and silver metal décor. A medic and a guard officer stood at opposite sides of the table. Beside the medic stood a stand with surgical instruments arrayed for easy use.
“What is his name?” Jordan asked, studying the prisoner’s face. It was unremarkable, save for a distinctive mole on the left side of his mouth.
“Ethes Anni, my Lord,” replied the guard officer.
“And how do you know he is a DuCideon spy?”
“I’m not, my Lord,” Anni said before the officer could answer. “I am Lord Vaid Ketrick’s second within the DuCideon Brotherhood here on Legan. He sent me here as a spy, but I came to make an offer.”
Jordan glared at the officer before addressing the prisoner. “Then speak quickly to prove the value of your life. Are you proposing yourself as some sort of hostage?”
“No, my Lord. The only life Lord Ketrick values is his own.”
“Information then. What can you give me that my ‘disciplined’ interrogator standing behind you cannot extract on his own?”
“Such extraction would not be easy, my Lord. I have psychic training as well.”
“No doubt.” Jordan stepped closer to look down at the man. He was not even sweating. Time to remedy that. “But unless you a
re willing to kill yourself before divulging anything useful, whatever information you may have will ultimately be mine. No one can keep his mental defenses up forever. Especially,” he glanced at the man’s tubes and wires, “when battling other challenges.” When the man did not respond, Jordan twisted the needle-ended tubing going into his arm to make his point clear. The man winced but did not cry out.
“True, my Lord, but I have sworn an oath to terminate my life if put to such a threat, which would mean a lost opportunity for you to—”
“Enough.” Jordan cut through the air with his hand. “Make your offer, or show us the measure of your oath.”
“I can provide information on a continuing basis, my Lord.”
“And why should I trust a man offering to spy on his former master?” Jordan began to get his sweat from the man. Could this DuCideon errand boy really have thought that he would be welcomed without question?
“You can judge my service by the quality of information I provide, my Lord. In time—”
“You do not have time. Convince me of your worth now.”
“Lord Ketrick is scheming to use the current crisis to put Duke Burin on the throne.”
“One could guess as much,” Jordan scoffed. “Anyone with an informed opinion would prefer Burin over Derrick. What does this information mean to me?”
“M-m-my Lord,” the man stammered, “I would have thought—”
“If you want to keep my interest, at least tell me how Ketrick is going accomplish it? I mean, beyond the normal Parliamentary bribes and an unimaginative assassination.”
“The rebel movement—”
“The rebels? Good luck to him on that. What else?”
The man on the table hesitated.
“Think hard,” Jordan suggested, nodding to his medic. Silently the medic powered up his tools and began testing his instruments.
“We...we know the name of the truthseer to be appointed for the Count-Grandee’s trial!”
“We have our own informational sources within the Imperial government.”
“My Lord, the DuCideon Brotherhood’s Imperial connections are without equal.”
“An entertaining boast, but one that cannot be verified in time to evaluate the merits of letting you live. Give me something more immediately verifiable.” Jordan gave the man only a moment before nodding again to the medic.
“Wait, my Lord!” the man cried.
“Yes?” Jordan enjoyed the man’s sudden loss of color.
“The Consortium is in the process of buying legitimate businesses on Legan as a hedge against expulsion from the planet.”
“A wise precaution.”
“Our spies within the Consortium have identified the targets.”
“Go on.”
“The Brotherhood is orchestrating stock runs and competing bids to make these acquisitions more expensive, and to profit on fluctuating share prices. You can join in these transactions with nominal risk.”
“Risk is never nominal with any venture worth pursuing, but this opportunity interests me. Provided this is more than just another petty play in this unending rivalry of yours.”
“Our Brotherhood is committed to end the Consortium’s dominant position in Legan’s low-profile markets, my Lord. This planet can no longer accommodate both organizations.”
Jordan turned to the security officer. “I expect a report and a plan of action by morning, Captain. Since we may be releasing Mr. Anni, continue to treat him well, unless he resists.” The officer acknowledged the order with a bow.
“I will not resist, my Lord,” the man proclaimed.
“Good,” Jordan replied. “Then you will allow us to verify the truth of your words with a mental scan.” He signaled the black-robed man still standing behind the prisoner, who nodded his acknowledgment. Jordan turned to leave.
“But my Lord!”
“It is the only way I will accept your bargain,” Jordan said, ignoring the man’s further attempts to get his attention. “And Captain,” he added, “I do not want knowledge of Mr. Anni’s cooperation leaked outside your team. If anyone else knows he is here...”
“Understood, my Lord.”
---
"Lenalt," called the woman monitoring communications, her face hidden in the evening’s darkness. “Renic says it’s no good.”
Lenalt Depré squinched the right side of his face. This was supposed to have been a simple operation. Enter the hidden government weapons depot, grab all that they could carry, and leave. So far, Depré’s squad leader had made everything complicated, even their trip to the site. What should have taken an hour had taken three. If this continued, they would probably have to leave the heavier armaments.
"What’s Renic’s problem now?" Lenalt asked, looking down at the innocuous row of buildings before him through his spectra-goggles.
"He says there are too many guards."
The rebel leader scoffed. "Renic is a coward and a fool. Does he know what they have in there? Our waiting has finally paid off! Besides, my plan allowed for this many guards."
"Kamarin originally said that—"
"Put me through to Renic," Lenalt snapped. The woman complied.
"Renic here," the man responded.
"Do you know how long we’ve watched this place?" Depré began as more units moved in around the storage buildings. "What we need is there for the taking, and you are worried about a couple of guards?"
"There are more than a couple of guards, Lenalt," Renic said evenly.
"And does a little increased security to this particular shipment mean anything to you?"
"It means we should rethink our plan."
"And risk the best of the payload being moved out tomorrow?"
"Lenalt, if we fail, we lose more than the payload."
"There is no more time," Depré declared. "Proceed with the mission." The rebel leader’s order was greeted by silence. "Did you hear me, Renic? You will proceed with the mission."
"I heard you, Lenalt."
"Acknowledge the order then." Depré heard the man breathe through the com-link.
"The mission will proceed. I will be leading Team A however."
A faint smile touched Depré’s lips. "As you deem best, Renic."
"Right," the other man answered. "Renic out."
Yeah, see you in hell, Renic, Lenalt thought with a smile. So long as the man followed orders, Depré did not care what he thought of him. The bonus was that after this, Depré would either have the weaponry he promised, or he would have Renic to blame for it. The funny part was that Renic surely knew this, but was still going along with it anyway. How strange.
At the first sound of lasfire, Depré lifted his goggles and looked down at his portascreen. Camera images from the rebels’ helmets showed the operation going as planned. Still he fought the urge to give an order. Why was it that in the computer simulations he played, he was constantly being required to give orders?
"Lenalt," said the woman monitoring communications. "Team D has come across a kid."
He scanned his screen for the right camera. "I see him. So?"
"They want to know what to do with him."
"He looks a little old for a kid," Depré remarked. "But it’s hard to tell with these cameras. Let Renic handle it."
"Team D reports that Renic told them to confer with you."
Depré lifted his eyes to the sky. "Get me Renic," he said. Depré cleaned some dirt from under a fingernail as he waited.
"I’m a little busy right now, Lenalt," Renic began.
"Me too. I assume this ‘kid’ was not a government prisoner?"
"His father was the Commander here, Lenalt."
"Great. We attacked on Take-Your-Brat-to-Work-Day. Has he seen anyone’s face?"
"No."
"Then tie him up and throw him in a closet somewhere. What about the weapons?"
"They’re being loaded now."
"Then hustle it up and stop wasting time with the service spawn."
; "I’m not sure we should leave him here. We...we shot his father right in front of him."
"A little weepy, is he? Then gag him, tie him up, and then throw him in a closet."
"You’re a real sonofabitch, Lenalt."
"Look, do what you have to do with the kid, but we’re not taking him with us."
"Ok, Lenalt. But I’ll—"
Depré heard the static from Renic’s comm before hearing the renewed lasfire.
"Team A is under enemy fire," reported the woman beside Depré. "Renic is down. Repeat. Renic is down."
"I guess there were more guards than Renic thought," Lenalt remarked. "How are we doing with the loading of weapons?"
"Four more minutes."
Lenalt was still chewing his lower lip when the lasfire stopped.
"The situation is back under control," the woman said.
"Move all units in and begin the loading,” said Depré. “We can’t risk that guard Renic missed having contacted anyone nearby."
"Acknowledged," replied the woman coldly.
Depré motioned for the woman to follow him down to the warehouse buildings as she relayed his orders. Rebel vehicles had already moved into position by the time Depré arrived at the second building. After making a brief survey of the weapons being loaded, Depré smiled. No one would be sniggering at him for failing to deliver on his promises now. He was about to board a transport vehicle when a voice called from behind him.
"Yes?" he replied, turning to see two rebels holding a youth by the arms. Depré frowned. "Ah, Renic’s kid, I presume."
"Yeah," said one of the rebels. "Renic didn’t tell us what to do with him before he...uh—"
"Died," Lenalt finished with a sniff. "Well, tie him up and toss him in a closet."
"You are going to pay for this, you rebel bastard," the youth breathed.
House of Jackals Page 6
