He was blind.
My breath caught—I'd never seen anyone who'd refused to have their eyes repaired. Surely this was a refusal, too; he was dressed well enough, in black trousers and boots, topped by a wine-colored shirt.
He turned toward me, his eyes unblinking for several moments.
"Tell her what you see," Kooper Griff said, lifting his cup of tea and drinking.
"Are you sure, Director?" The man asked.
"I'm sure."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Sabrina Kend," the man dipped his head to me. "I've heard many things about your father. When they told me that the rocket designer was coming to review what was fired from here, I had no idea it would be Master Kend's daughter."
"Your man has done his research," I turned toward Director Griff.
"He hasn't read a thing about you until now," Kooper set his teacup down. "Randl, can you see anything else?"
Kooper Griff wanted to know if I'd betrayed my father as well as my own designs. I stiffened and considered calling Director Griff several names.
"She knows nothing of this subterfuge or whether industrial espionage is involved," the one called Randl informed Director Griff after only a few moments passed. "She does wish to call you an asshole, however."
My anger resulting from that private revelation was dispelled when Griff and the Falchani began to laugh. Somehow, Kooper Griff had found a clairvoyant to employ, and a very good one, too. The only ones in my experience were either charlatans or their gifts weren't nearly this precise.
That's when Jett Riffler, Director of the CSD and a native Avendoran Fi'Gu, walked onto the balcony.
"Jett," Kooper rose to his feet and offered his hand. "Good to see you."
"And you as well," Director Riffler beamed, his teeth a gleaming white against mahogany-colored skin. An elaborate tattoo ran down the left side of his face; if I were to see his arms and legs, the left ones would be covered with the same tattoos. The right side of a Fi'Gu's body was never tattooed—to honor their gods.
"May I introduce Sabrina Kend, Ruther Kend's daughter?" Director Griff turned in my direction.
"Ah, Ms. Kend," Director Riffler turned his smile on me. "I hope you will help us with this conundrum we face."
"I hope so, too," I stood and held out my hand to him. "If they have my designs, I certainly want to know about it."
Travis
"I haven't seen Kooper laugh that hard in ages," Trent said as we took our positions near the reception desk outside the meeting hall. We were now dressed as hotel guards, with restored disguises—Trent, Randl and I.
Another set of actual hotel guards were on the other side of the reception area; Randl had already checked them and reported them safe.
"At least we got breakfast; this looks to be a marathon," I said as the doors opened and attendees crowded the desk area.
"The royals, presidents and leaders were pre-checked last night," Trent agreed. "The common herd is huge."
Randl blew out a breath at the sudden onslaught of people crowding into the foyer. There was a designated order for their arrival, but somebody always missed the memo, as Mom would say.
You're having a hard time with so many at once, aren't you? I sent to Randl. I caught the brief nod of agreement as he struggled to keep up with the constant movement before us.
Kooper, I sent, Randl can't deal with this many people at once; they're moving through too quickly for him to get a decent lock on any of them.
I was afraid of that, Kooper replied. Look, I'll put him with Teeg inside the meeting hall. He can act as an extra guard on the Founder's private balcony and study the attendees as they sit at their tables.
That sounds better, I agreed.
I'll send someone to get him, Kooper said and cut off mindspeech.
Kooper's someone ended up being Winkler.
Randl
Winkler came for me, leading me through a private, locked entrance to an elevator. The tall werewolf grinned as he scanned his wrist to open the elevator doors.
"You'll be with Teeg," he explained as we stepped inside the car. "This way, you can take your time looking at everyone at the tables."
"It was overwhelming, so many at once," I admitted.
"We should have thought of that, but at least we know now," Winkler said. "Kooper says to report anything you see to Teeg, Dormas or Wyatt. They'll get the message to him."
"Thank you," I said. "I hope this doesn't alter my employment with the Agency."
"Son, you're already a star," Winkler laughed. "Don't worry, Kooper's happy enough with you already."
I was grateful; I'd felt inadequate with the press of bodies crowding into the foyer. My vision couldn't clear fast enough to get a feel for any of them.
"Coffee or tea?" Wyatt held his grin long enough for me to see it when I stepped inside the spacious, private balcony reserved for the Campiaan Alliance Founder.
"Tea," I said. I had a cup in my hands quickly as I scanned the tables below; they were already occupied by the royals, presidents and such, along with a bodyguard, while assistants and advisors filtered in.
At least the enclosed balcony provided some relief from the noise of everyone talking at once. That had overwhelmed me, too. As yet, Teeg hadn't arrived; only Wyatt and Dormas occupied the balcony with me.
"Where is the President of Pyrik?" I asked while studying table after table below, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
"He'll probably wait until the last minute, to make a grand entrance I'm sure," Wyatt replied. As yet, there wasn't anyone at his table. "I heard he had a quick meeting scheduled with Jett Riffler, after Riffler met with Kooper this morning."
"I didn't see that in the CSD Director," I said absently. "Maybe they set it up after I left with Travis and Trent."
"Hmmm," Wyatt mumbled. I knew then that Wyatt had heard about the meeting from President Bargel himself the night before.
Except Bargel hadn't informed Jett Riffler.
"Wyatt," I turned swiftly in his direction. "I think Director. Riffler may be in trouble."
Sabrina Kend
Director Riffler was bleeding heavily as I glared at President Bargel. I'd been with Riffler when the President of Pyrik and three bodyguards approached, asking for a meeting.
Riffler was escorting me to his suite at the time, so I could study the laser rocket blasts fired from the planet's surface.
President Bargel and his guards waited outside the door to Riffler's suite.
Once Riffler invited them inside after unlocking the door, things became chaotic quickly. Riffler shoved me out of the way as one guard fired a laser pistol at the Director, hitting him in the shoulder.
The other two would have finished the job if I hadn't shot the one who'd fired first.
We were now at a standoff, as I pointed the illegal ranos pistol I carried at them and President Bargel.
I could only hold them off so long, I figured, before they understood that I was one person while they were three.
The other guard was already dead at their feet, his head blown apart and gray matter splattered on his companions.
Ignoring the nausea that threatened, I glared at these would-be assassins, waiting for my life to end.
Gord was supposed to meet me at Riffler's suite. Where was he?
"What are you doing, Bargel?" Riffler hissed from behind me. His voice would have been calm, I think, but he was in too much pain and losing blood swiftly.
"What I've wanted to do for a long time," Bargel growled. "Get rid of you and your digging into my records."
"Anomalies," Riffler snapped.
"Right. Anomalies. Fuck you and your anomalies. Kill them both," Bargel ordered his companions.
Both glanced at one another—probably deciding which one was going to take the hit for the team, because I'd kill at least one of them before I went down.
A fleeting image of my arrival on a penal planet somewhere went through my mind as I leveled my weapon at Bargel, w
ho stood between his remaining guards.
He swallowed with difficulty. No matter which guard fired, he'd be the one to die. "Let's talk about this," he held up both hands.
"It's too late to do that, don't you think?" I demanded, struggling to keep the wobble from my voice.
I shrieked when the room suddenly boiled with people. Riffler used his good arm to pull me against him as the guards' heads were lopped off by the Falchani I'd seen earlier.
Another man—I realized it was Teeg San Gerxon, Founder of the Campiaan Alliance, threw Bargel hard against a wall, then shouted for a physician.
I remember blinking into sightless eyes before darkness came.
Chapter 6
Travis
"It pays to be paranoid enough to carry an illegal weapon," I said, settling at a galley table aboard BlackWing X. "Kooper says the shield on Sabrina's weapon is a work of genius, because it sailed through all the security stops without a hiccup."
"How is she?" Randl asked. "Is Director Riffler all right?"
"They're both fine—Quin took care of Riffler. Sabrina Kend just needed to wake on her own. Kooper's asking her questions now."
"All three bodyguards were affected," I sighed. "How could that happen?"
"You recall that Bargel has been noticeably absent from all the pre-meetings," Trent pointed out. "These three were new hires, if the records are correct."
"What about Conclave?" I asked. Today's meeting had been canceled—by Teeg San Gerxon after the events in Riffler's suite. News vids across both Alliances were playing the images from inside Riffler's suite—Teeg released those vids so there would be no question that Bargel was not only attempting murder, but was guilty of something else, too. Just what that could be was a matter of speculation at the moment.
"No word on the Conclave yet," I said. "There could be a delay, though."
"At least we don't see Sabrina in the vids—the camera was pointed at the door, where Bargel and his thugs were," Trent said. "The news stations are being told that Riffler defended himself, although he was wounded."
"I see you have your mother's claws," Randl hid a grin. "Nice job of beheading."
"We found out about them when we were twelve," Trent laughed. "Our dads were teaching us how to defend ourselves against a knife attack. We weren't allowed weapons. Bro, here, sliced Great-uncle Crane's practice knife in half."
"They just popped out," I shrugged. "They're a weapon of last resort, too. Don't want the enemy to know we're never without weapons."
"I'm grateful the beheadings aren't all over the Alliances," Trent said. "I need a beer or ten."
"I'd take one, too," Randl said. "We almost didn't get there in time."
"I hope Sabrina Kend knows how to keep her mouth shut," I said. "Come on, let's go find a beer somewhere."
Sabrina Kend
"How did you know Riffler was in trouble?" I asked. Director Griff sighed at my question. My money was on the blind man, but I didn't say that. I was in enough trouble as it was, although packing a contraband ranos pistol had saved Jett Riffler's life and my own.
When I realized Director Griff had no intention of answering my question, I asked another. "How much trouble am I in?"
Nobody except ASD and CSD were allowed to have ranos pistols. I'd built my own, with an additional shielding device to keep it hidden from even the most sensitive scanners.
"Young woman," Director Griff's eyes were lit with restrained laughter, "You're in trouble for sure. I'd be willing to look the other way on—certain charges—if you agree to work for the ASD."
"Now that was unexpected," I blinked at him. "My father," I began.
"Your father will be apprised of all the charges leveled against you if you don't," Griff's eyes turned hard. "And there's a substantial list, I assure you."
I wanted to curse. I held it back. "Fine. How long? I have things to do, you know."
"Tell me you need your father's money."
"I don't need anything from anybody," I snapped. "I have money of my own. I'm sure you've had my information on your comp-vid since the moment I arrived on Pyrik."
"Maybe."
"How long?" I repeated my question.
"Three years. Better than spending thirty in prison for carrying an illegal weapon, manufacturing an illegal weapon, firing an illegal weapon, killing someone with said weapon," he lifted an eyebrow at me.
"Fuck." I did curse, then. "What about saving Riffler's life?"
"I knocked off the last fifty years for killing with an illegal weapon, for saving his life," Griff shrugged. "We have your images from another camera inside Riffler's suite. We can show those to your father. It's a prison sentence for sure, if those get out. It wouldn't have been so bad if it were only a laser pistol," he added. "Ranos technology warrants a stiffer penalty."
"Nobody was supposed to find it," I hissed, staring down at my hands.
"And that's why I want you in my employ," Griff sat back in his chair. "We won't demand you give your technology away while you work for me," he continued. "I'm willing to pay for the shield design you used. The ASD only wants the option of a first chance at anything you produce while you're with us."
"That's something you already get from my father," I grumbled.
"But you know how to defend yourself in an emergency," Griff was smiling again. "I like that. I have a special assignment ready for you, too, if you agree to work for me. If not," he tossed out a hand.
"Prison." I spoke the word as flatly as I could.
"Your choice," he slapped a knee and stood. "In the meantime, I want you to review those images we brought you here to see. I'll drop you off with my team, and they'll handle it. I have a few things to tie up tonight."
"Your team?"
"Oh, they're having a beer in the bar downstairs. I'll leave you with them."
"Do I get a beer, too?"
"You can have as many as you want, as long as you're sober enough to review those images tomorrow morning."
"Right." I was under the long thumb of the law already.
"Come on, it won't be horrible unless you want it that way," Griff was grinning again. He was enjoying himself; I wasn't.
"What about my things? Where's Gord?" I asked.
"Oh. Gord was Bargel's first victim, I'm afraid. He's recovering in the same hospital as Director Riffler."
"Thank the gods he's still alive," I mumbled. I realized how tense I was when I stood stiffly to follow Griff from his suite.
Randl
I was drinking my second bottle of Refizani beer when Kooper arrived with Sabrina Kend. "She needs a beer," Kooper said. "Travis, you'll be in charge of getting her together with the laser rocket images tomorrow morning. Unless she has a change of heart, I believe she may be working for the ASD for the next three years."
"Take a seat," David said. He'd come with us and pointed Sabrina toward the empty chair around our low table.
"Amterean?" Sabrina pointed her question at Dave.
"Close enough," he said. "What do you want to drink?"
"I'll have what you're having," she said.
"Bring another round, and add one," David waved at our server. Soon enough, we all had a fresh beer in front of us.
"Long day," Travis held up his bottle.
"You can say that again," Sabrina agreed. "Fucking, bird shitty, horrible day." She tipped the bottle to her lips and drank.
"She knows how to curse—I like that," Trent chuckled.
Sabrina's dark hair was pulled back and tied neatly at her nape, otherwise it would have hung long past her shoulders. She wore few cosmetics; she didn't need them and wasn't insecure about her appearance.
Kooper had all but blackmailed her to join the ASD, however, and I could tell she was inwardly fuming about it.
"Three years isn't so long," I said.
"Yeah." She drank again, nearly emptying her bottle. I pushed my fresh beer in her direction.
"Thanks."
"Not a problem."
> She snorted at my response, but didn't say anything. So far, I hadn't seen her smile. I hoped that was a possibility, but the way things had gone for her this day, it could be long in coming.
"So, what do you guys do for the ASD—besides lop heads off bad guys?" Sabrina pointed her second bottle of beer at Travis and Trent.
"She saw that?" Travis and Trent said at the same moment. When my vision of them cleared, I found them staring at one another.
"You should ah, keep that to yourself," Dave said and helped himself to the small dish of nuts on the table. "It's a big, hairy, ASD secret, you know."
"Hairy secrets?" I could hear the frown in Sabrina's voice.
"No worries," David said and crunched on a handful of nuts.
"What the fuck is he talking about?" Sabrina turned to me.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I replied. David burst out laughing.
Sabrina
"Here it is—home sweet home," Travis swept an arm out when we landed in the galley aboard a ship—Raptor II.
"You live on a ship?" I blinked at Travis.
"Most of the time," he shrugged and grinned. "Trent will show you your quarters—you'll be bunking next to Jayna. Don't worry—she doesn't bite. Much."
"Your bags are already in your cabin," the one called Jayna walked into the galley. "I can take you. I was ready for bed anyway."
"Breakfast is at six bells," Travis said. "Don't be late. We have an eight bell appointment with those vids."
"Right." I wanted to wrinkle my nose at him, but thought better of it. So much for sleeping in after a fucking long day. Breakfast at six? Ewww.
"When's the last time you had self-defense lessons?" Travis asked before I could turn to follow Jayna.
"The day before I left to come here," I said.
"Good. Beginning the day after tomorrow, either Jayna or I will take up where your instructor left off."
"My day couldn't end any better, could it?" I said.
"How your day ends is up to you," Travis said. "You can be pissed if you want. It won't change anything."
"Oh, so now you're a philosopher," I tossed up a hand.
MindSighted: BlackWing Pirates, Book 1 Page 8
