Making herself appear to be busy, she waited for a moment when Sheridan was alone with Chang.
Rising from her seat, Baryon in hand, she strolled aft past her fellow interns. One glanced up, but otherwise her passage went unnoticed. Even the one glance faded away when she paused at the snack trays and popped a quarter-sandwich into her mouth before pouring some water. Downing the liquid, she walked further aft, past the washrooms and the cubicles of the senior advisors. Just as she reached the entrance to Sheridan’s office the door slid open. Chang looked at her in a moment’s assessment, then stepped aside.
Sheridan was seated behind his desk.
“Excuse me, Mr. Sheridan?” she said from the doorway. “I have some initial analysis of your Denver speech.” The politician glanced up at her with mild surprise, which melted quickly into sudden interest. He glanced at Chang, who nodded curtly, then motioned Katja inside.
“I’ll be right back, sir,” Chang said as he stepped outside and closed the door. He’d be gone long enough for her to make the required contact, and he’d stop anyone else from interrupting. She opened her eyes wide and smiled.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” she said.
He rose from his chair and extended his hand to shake hers. His handsome face wore an expression of indulgent charm.
“I’m sorry I haven’t learned the names of all my new interns, Miss…?”
“Laurent. Sophie Laurent.” If she was going to play the role of flirtatious little vixen, her best example to follow had been French.
“Miss Laurent.” He retook his seat and offered her the chair facing him across the desk. She sat down and held the Baryon between them, leaning in just enough that he’d be able to sense her subtle perfume. He leaned in slightly as well, powerful gaze taking her in.
“The initial reaction by the networks has been both widespread and positive,” she began. In two minutes she gave him a detailed analysis of the reporting tone and priority given to the speech. Thanks to Shin’s research skills her report achieved the analytical level of a briefing from a top campaign staffer, and Katja forced herself to skip some of the details. Nevertheless, they were clear to a smart observer, and Sheridan proved his acumen with his own comments.
She made a show of being very impressed.
“I didn’t see that, sir.” She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “I’m looking forward so much to learning under you.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Sophie,” he said, holding her eyes. “This is a great analysis. I’m impressed.”
“Really?” She grinned, then forced it down into a smile. “Thank you, sir.”
He sat back, quickly looking her up and down. She took another quick breath, ensuring her chest swelled as she did.
“Do you think you could do another report like this after the Atlanta speech?” he asked. “I’ll be curious to see the follow-on reaction.”
“Yeah, of course!” she responded. “I could have it for you this evening.” She paused, glancing down as if embarrassed. “I mean, if you want it that soon.”
“Don’t worry, Sophie,” he replied. “I work late. I’m at a dinner this evening but you can come by afterward to the hotel suite.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Sheridan. No problem.”
“Call me Chris,” he said, waving away the formality. “At least, when the other interns aren’t around.” She laughed, and heard the door open behind her. Holding his gaze for just a moment longer, she rose, thanked him for his time, and slipped past Chang out of the office.
12
“Are any of the interns giving you trouble?” Chang asked.
Katja laughed as she slipped off her shoes and rubbed her heels—standing for hours at a time in these fashion necessities was becoming torture.
“The tall one—the redhead from Mercury—threatened me this afternoon. Told me she’d kick my ass if I didn’t back off from Sheridan.” Chang handed her a soda water from the hotel room’s mini-bar and dropped down in the chair across from her. The curtains behind him were drawn, but a sliver of darkness revealed the night beyond.
“The redhead?” He nodded. “Yeah, she’s been pretty busy asserting her dominance over the other females. I haven’t seen her talking to Sheridan much, though.”
“Classic mistake in warfare.” Katja shrugged. “She’s too busy fighting peripheral battles, and she’s lost sight of her main objective.”
“Is that how you women consider romance?”
“As warfare? Oh, yeah. I was just never very good at it, until I stopped caring.”
“I take it the redhead doesn’t know that you’ve been invited to Sheridan’s room the past two evenings?”
“No, it hasn’t even occurred to her. In her mind, no one could move that fast.”
“Another big mistake, underestimating the enemy.”
Katja shrugged again. Maneuvering her way into Sheridan’s confidence hadn’t been that difficult, and engaging in psychological warfare with a bunch of interns really didn’t task her. Much greater concerns occupied her thoughts.
“Sules,” she said suddenly, “what did Mun-Hee mean back at HQ, when she said she didn’t want to hear another word from you?”
To his credit, Chang didn’t try to evade the question. He met her eyes with his usual stoic gaze.
“There are a few operatives who feel that you’re a little too trigger-happy,” he replied. “I’ve defended you.”
Exactly as she’d feared. She couldn’t describe the emotion that washed up over her. Anger was there, as always, but it was weakened by something much older, more primitive—a sense of failure. She closed her eyes, fighting down the frustration at her own emotional vulnerability.
“How many people think that?” she asked.
“A few… but we all bring different strengths to the ASF.”
“Why don’t they say it to my face?” she gritted. “I thought we were supposed to be open with each other.”
“They’re afraid of you.”
That stopped her cold. Afraid of her? A flicker of pride burned through the chill of her emotion, but it was dampened by a ghost of a thought—what had she become?
“They shouldn’t be. You guys are my family.”
“I know, but like I said, we all bring different strengths. Mun-Hee is like me—a background operator who keeps an eye on the big picture. You’re more like Ali—you lead the charge. Even then we’re all different. Mun-Hee is the investigator while I’m the guardian. Ali just slips into action like a ghost, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to attack.”
“And me?”
“You’re the executioner. You strike hard and fast.”
“And without remorse, I suppose.”
“That’s up to you, Katty.”
She glanced up at him. “Do you feel remorse for what we do?”
“Do I look like I feel remorse?”
She had to laugh. His moon face revealed nothing, as always, but deep down she knew his humanity was there, and strong. After a year as an operative, she was afraid to think about how much of her own humanity had been sacrificed. But now wasn’t the time, she told herself firmly. They were on a mission, and what needed to occupy her thoughts was a Centauri spy.
“Still no sightings of Moretti?” she asked.
“No—and I mean, not anywhere. She’s vanished from the Cloud.”
“Suggesting extra care on her part to remain invisible. I think she’s close.”
“Ali’s monitoring all foot traffic into the hotel, and Mun-Hee is positioned on the roof. I had sensors installed in the air conditioning ducts of every hotel we’re planning to stay at in the next week.”
“She won’t try that again,” Katja said. “Not after we caught her red-handed.”
“Doesn’t hurt to cover our bases. I’m also checking staff movements to flag any
sudden replacements of personnel.” He pulled up his suit sleeve to reveal the sleek forearm display that was wrapped around it. “And I have dark-energy detectors deployed in case she tries to open a local jump gate.”
Katja sipped her water and sat back on the couch.
“It’s nice to feel protected.”
“Just doing my job, Katty, so you can do yours.”
She nodded, taking another long drink. They were all just doing their jobs, but that didn’t make it mean any less. She didn’t allow herself many emotions these days, but loyalty to her new family was one indulgence that made her feel stronger.
Finishing the soda water she rose, smoothing her dress. From her open suitcase she pulled out a pair of stylish flats and slipped them on her feet.
“Well, Mr. Sheridan will be waiting for me to deliver his evening report.”
“Not changing into something more comfortable?”
She cast her gaze back over her shoulder to where Chang was rising to his feet.
“He hasn’t actually propositioned me yet,” Katja replied. “I just know he appreciates no heels—he’s a bit sensitive about his height.”
“I’ll remember to stoop.”
She laughed and transferred her pocket energy weapon to her purse. Chang exited to the hallway and nodded back to her that all was clear.
Sheridan was staying in the penthouse suite on the top floor, just a single flight above Katja’s room. She climbed the stairs, easing the door shut as she stepped into the upper corridor and reached out with all her senses. Nothing was within quantum-flux range, and with infra-red she peered through the wall to the left and made out his seated form. To the right was the other penthouse suite, currently unoccupied, and ahead the corridor led less than ten meters before ending at a broad window. Above her was the roof, but other than the dark flow of cooled air through the ducts she could see nothing.
Shin was up there, so her topside was covered.
One of the regular security guards was on duty outside Sheridan’s doors. He noticed her approach and regarded her without expression.
“Working late again, Miss Durant?”
She smiled at him, as always. On the first night she’d offered a shy expression, and last night she’d practically grinned. Tonight she allowed a touch of smugness to flicker across her lips, indicating a woman who knew she’d succeeded.
“Mr. Sheridan is very demanding,” she said.
The guard knocked sharply on the door and opened it, announced her arrival, then stepped back to let her pass. Sheridan was seated in the armchair facing the door, feet up on the table and his suit jacket tossed on the couch to his left. The penthouse’s sitting area was nearly as large as Katja’s old apartment, and beyond she could see the undisturbed dining area, then a pair of doors leading to bedrooms. The curtains were drawn, but she knew there was a patio beyond the glass. She quickly scanned the room before turning her most radiant smile toward her patron.
“Evening, Sophie.” He rose slowly from his chair, reaching to clear his suit jacket from the couch before inviting her to take a seat.
“Good evening, sir.” She heard the door shut behind her as she sat down on the couch, and leaned toward him earnestly. “How was your dinner?”
He flopped back down and shrugged. The busy public schedule was wearing him down. His handsome face sagged with fatigue.
“Fine,” he said. “The usual glad-handing and scheming.”
“I have the initial report on your media coverage from this evening.” She handed him the tablet.
“Thanks,” he said, taking it and, to her surprise, actually scanning the first few pages. His eyes were alight with intelligence, and shone in contrast to his haggard features. Katja couldn’t help but be impressed by this man. In the few days she’d been on his team she’d watched him work longer hours than anyone on his staff. His discussions with officials very often contained real substance, and amid all the chaos he’d maintained a cool, steady demeanor, treating all his staff members—from his senior advisors right down to his transport driver—with respect and courtesy.
He wasn’t at all what she’d expected in a politician.
“You do excellent work, Sophie,” he said finally, leaning back in his chair and holding her in his gaze. “I’d like to keep you closer to me.”
Finally. To his credit, he’d not tried to get her into bed right away—he’d at least had the decency to wait a few nights. Katja leaned forward slightly, letting a touch of eagerness burn in her eyes.
“I’d like that too, Chris.”
“I want to make you my official executive assistant.”
“Of course,” she purred, reaching out to rest a hand on his knee. “I’d be honored.”
His eyes held hers for a moment, then flicked down to her hand. He sat up suddenly, pulling his legs down off the table and shaking her hand free.
“And Sophie,” he said, looking into her eyes again, “that’s all I want.”
She nodded automatically, then paused as his words registered, smiling to cover her confusion.
“You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman,” he said, sitting straighter and moving away from her, “but I’m happily married, and I’d like to stay that way.”
Katja sat back, pushing down any emotions that threatened to well up, but knowing that her cheeks were reddening. His smile was kind, and that only made her feel patronized. A big part of her was relieved that she wouldn’t have to expose herself so intimately, but honestly—he could have at least been tempted.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” she said, forcing an amused smile to her lips. “I’m flattered that you thought that was my intention.”
“So are you interested in being my EA?”
“Absolutely. When do I start?”
His quiet answer was drowned out in her mind by a sudden shout in the Cloud. She pressed a hand to his knee again, motioning for silence. Her eyes pointed at his surprised features but her perception reached out in all directions. She couldn’t even tell from whom the alert had sounded.
Metal and plastic clattered on the patio beyond the curtains. She snapped over with infra-red—two bodies grappled outside. An incoherent message hissed through the Cloud.
She launched herself into Sheridan, tipping his armchair backward and sending them both to the floor. He thumped down on his back, staring at her in shock. She climbed on top of him, watching for movement through the curtains.
“Sophie,” he gasped, “I’m serious—I’m married.”
“Quiet,” she hissed in his ear, fumbling into her purse for the energy pistol. “Into the bedroom, move!”
“I appreciate your sense of fun,” he growled, pushing her off and attempting to sit up. “But this is too much.” She pulled out the pistol and pointed it toward the curtains. Rising to a crouch she grabbed his elbow and pulled him up.
“I’m Special Forces, assigned to protect you.”
He stared at her, mouth open in silence.
The curtains billowed as glass shattered behind them. A wall of hot air flowed into the room. Katja heaved Sheridan to his feet and hustled him toward the bedroom door on the far wall. A figure emerged through the curtains, but seemed to be facing away from her. The figure collapsed through the fabric—the broken form of Shin Mun-Hee.
Through the bedroom door, Katja heard a faint crackling noise. Someone had just materialized from the Bulk. She grabbed Sheridan in mid-stride and pushed him down toward the dining-room floor.
“Get under the table!” she snapped.
He scrambled over the hardwood and between the chairs tucked around the small dining-room table. Katja crouched in front, senses scanning all directions.
A dark figure rushed through from the bedroom. She fired. The energy blast crackled over the intruder, causing him to
stumble, but he pressed forward. Katja unleashed rapid-fire blasts into what she recognized as a Bulk-suit, clearly Centauri in design. Each energy bolt staggered her target until he fell backward, finally letting out a scream of pain.
His form thumped down against the floor.
The tinkle of glass alerted her to movement back at the patio and she swung to face the new threat. Another Bulk-suited attacker stepped through the billowing curtains. She fired, feeling a quick pulse from the pistol against her hand, indicating it was almost out of power. Her attacker strode forward, brandishing a heavy rod in one hand.
Throwing herself to the floor she covered her eyes even as she heard the door crack open. A wave of light and sound burned over her as the flashbang grenade from Chang detonated in the room. Then everything went silent and dark.
She looked up and saw the intruder staggering from the blast. Chang ran into the room, throwing his huge form in a body tackle, crashing down on top of the Centauri. The enemy’s rod slipped loose, rolling under the table. Chang pinned his opponent and Katja turned to cover her first target.
The body was still lying in the bedroom door, but even as she approached another form appeared, bent over her target, and activated a device on his forearm. The fallen figure disappeared into the Bulk. The second Centauri rose and stepped through the door, his—no, her—face visible where the face shield had been retracted.
“Valeria Moretti,” Katja said.
Moretti’s large eyes snapped over. Surprise flashed into recognition, and then into rage.
“Emmes.”
Katja raised her pistol and fired, but Moretti was already in motion. A single blast struck her torso before she knocked the weapon aside and grabbed Katja by the throat. Katja tried to gasp, but no air moved as the iron fingers closed, her feet left the ground, and pain seared her neck. She smashed her forearm upward into Moretti’s elbow, but the grip held.
Clutching onto her enemy’s wrist, Katja tried to swing her leg up into a kick, but her bare feet struck against unyielding armor. Her vision began to fade and sparkle as Moretti’s face glared up at hers.
March of War Page 12
