***
Francesca had wondered what Elena Leong would do, once she got over the shock of hearing her eldest son calmly describe how he had planned her demise. She found out five days after Ran-Del killed Hans Leong when the security booth buzzed her to tell a Leong skimmer was asking for admittance.
“Is it Baroness Leong?” Francesca asked, surprised.
“No, ma’am,” Merced said. “It’s the other son—er, it’s Freddie Leong.”
“All right,” Francesca said. “Send him up to my office—no, wait, make that the front parlor.”
“Yes, Baroness,” Merced said. “Uh, the only thing is, he has two security staff with him, and he says they have to come with him.”
Francesca frowned and then realized that Elena would hardly take chances with her only remaining offspring. “That’s all right. Let him keep them.”
Francesca rode the lift down to the first floor and walked quickly to the small front parlor, usually reserved for social visits. She didn’t want to risk Freddie noticing the new carpet in her office.
When Freddie came in the door, it struck Francesca that he looked different in some way. She had a sudden qualm and wondered if she should have called Quinn to ask for security. And then Freddie smiled at her, and Francesca knew it would be all right.
“Hello, Francesca darling,” Freddie said, kissing her cheek as usual. “How tactful of you to see me here instead of in your office.”
Francesca studied him, trying to figure out what made him look so different. There was both an energy and a weariness to him that hadn’t been there before.
“I’m surprised to see you,” Francesca said. “The funeral was only yesterday.”
“I know. It was an ordeal, believe me. We appreciate your forbearance in not coming, by the way. I’m to tell you that.”
“Do you mean your mother sent you?” Francesca asked, surprised.
“Oh, yes,” Freddie said bitterly. “I don’t take a step these days, unless Mom orders it.”
“Why not? She never tried to control you before.”
Freddie smiled but there was no warmth in his blue eyes. “She had Hans before. I was merely window dressing and could do as I pleased. Now I’m the hope of my House, and my mother has me very firmly in hand.” He jerked his head at the two security guards standing discretely at the back of the room. “You don’t think my keepers are there to protect me, do you? My mother knows better than to suspect you of a revenge killing. No, my two little friends are here to stop me from anesthetizing myself in any way.”
Francesca frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”
Freddie held out his right wrist and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a device not unlike the cardiometric resuscitator that Pop had once forced onto Ran-Del. “I mean she’s dried me out, my sweet. For the first time in five seasons, I’m stone cold sober. If I so much as take a sniff of anything interesting, or even a sip of wine, this thing sets off alarms, and my little buddies drag me home and stuff me into a basement room to endure the tortures of the damned.”
Francesca studied him again, noting the slight tremor of his hands and the faint circles under his eyes. “Oh, poor Freddie! Do you mean she made you give it all up cold?”
He nodded. “It doesn’t get much colder. I was home when she got back from your place, all gray-faced and tottering from the horror of the situation. After she informed me that my sibling was not only a first class bastard but a multiple murderer, I adjourned to my room, to put myself in a more accepting frame of mind.
“About an hour later, she burst in with a couple of her tame goons, and they literally dragged me to the infirmary. She had the doctor go over me with some impressive medical hardware, and he told her that I was properly pickled. When she asked the quickest way to un-pickle me, he said just to cut me off. He warned her that it would be painful, but she didn’t seem concerned. Since that moment, I have never been alone.”
Francesca put a hand on his shoulder. “Poor Freddie! I’m sorry you’re suffering, but I’m happy that someone’s finally making you stop killing yourself. Is it very bad?”
Freddie took her hand and lifted it to his lips. He kissed the back of it, and then turned it over and kissed her palm. “It’s terrible. But the worst thing is, she’s doing this to me now, when I haven’t a hope of getting you back.”
Francesca smiled, but shook her head. “You don’t want me back, Freddie. You’re the one who ended it, remember?”
His eyes burned into hers in a way that she hadn’t seen in a long time. “Oh, yes. I remember. I remember I told you it was over because I couldn’t stand the thought of all our ugliness touching you. That’s when I started using, when I realized anyone I liked would run from me in horror once she met my family.”
Francesca dropped her gaze to her hands. “I’m sorry, Freddie.”
Freddie touched her cheek gently with the back of his hand. “I know,” he said softly. “I know, my sweet. My God, what I wouldn’t give for one more chance with you.”
“Once you’re truly well, some woman will see through all that hardened cynicism to the kind, tender man underneath.”
Freddie sighed. “Maybe. But she won’t be you, Francesca.” And then, heedless of the two men behind him, Freddie leaned over, pushed her against the back of the sofa, and kissed her passionately.
Francesca wasn’t expecting it. For one second, she thought about fighting him off, but she didn’t feel in the least threatened, and the kiss awoke in her tender memories of the time when she had loved Freddie Leong as much as she loved anyone in the world. She didn’t resist, and in the end, she kissed him back.
Freddie finally let her up. His blue eyes were very sad, but he had a faint smile on his lips. “Thank you for that, my sweet. I don’t suppose it’s safe to ask for anything more?”
Francesca realized he was referring to Ran-Del’s reputation for jealous rages. “No. It wouldn’t be a good idea at all.”
“Just as well. I was never good at settling for second place.”
Francesca raised her eyebrows. “Did you come here to ask for second place, Freddie?”
“No. I didn’t come here to ask for anything at all. My mother sent me merely to report that we shall expect the next shipment on time—no delays.”
Francesca was even more surprised. “I see. Business as usual?”
“Precisely. The Leong-Norwalk cartel won’t be delayed merely by an execution in the family. Business comes first, as always.”
Francesca nodded. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I wouldn’t expect anything less of Elena.”
“Neither would I.” Freddie stood up abruptly. “You will be sure to thank your husband for me, won’t you, my sweet?”
“Thank him for what?” Francesca asked, astonished.
“For saving me from committing fratricide,” Freddie said sardonically. “Either that, or Hans would have killed me. It would have been one or the other, eventually.”
He kissed her hand again, and moved to the door, but his two guards blocked the way.
“Sorry, sir,” the shorter one said. “You know the rules.”
Freddie sighed and held out his arms. The shorter man frisked him, briskly but efficiently, while the taller one ran a small, portable scanning device over Freddie’s body.
“All clean,” the taller man said. His companion nodded, and the two of them stepped out of the way to allow Freddie to pass.
“You see?” Freddie said to Francesca. “My life has become a living hell.”
Francesca shook her head. “No. It’s better now. It was hell before, but you didn’t know it.”
Freddie smiled his twisted smile. “I’d settle for not knowing, right about now.”
“Goodbye, Freddie,” Francesca said.
“Goodbye, my sweet,” Freddie said. As they walked down the corridor, he turned to the shorter of his two keepers. “I’ll give you each a hundred credits if you’ll get me one bottle of good booze.”
“Sor
ry, sir.” Francesca thought she detected a trace of sympathy in the man's tone. “But we’ve already been warned what’ll happen to us if you succeed in getting lit.”
Freddie sighed. “Sobriety is not all it’s cracked up to be, my friend.”
The Sixth Discipline Page 99
