Shades of Empire (ThreeCon)

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  “What’s that?” Merot asked.

  “It’s a detonator,” Alexander said, keeping his tone pleasant. “A hair-trigger detonator. If I take my thumb off the switch even for a second, it’ll go off.”

  “A detonator for what?” Merot said, his voice heavy with suspicion.

  “For the implosion device strapped to your dick,” Alexander said, still in the same bland tone. “Grope yourself just a little, and you’ll feel it right away.”

  Merot did just that, and then his eyes glistened in the moonlight. “You goddamned son of a bitch!”

  Alexander smiled in the darkness and felt the thermaplex on his face stretch. “It’s difficult to be in the Corps and not be a son of a bitch. In any event, I want to be sure you understand your situation. You do exactly what I say, or I’ll let up on this switch. At that point, the imploder will go off—very quietly, by the way—and you’ll begin to bleed to death. Even if they find you in time to save your life, you’ll never be able to piss normally, let alone fuck a woman. Do you understand, Merot?”

  “Yes,” Merot said, his teeth clenched. Was it anger or fear that was making the man so tense? Perhaps it was both.

  “Good.” Alexander got to his feet. “Stand up.”

  The sergeant obeyed gingerly.

  “Now,” Alexander said, “you’re going to get me into the palace. I’m going to walk just a little ways behind you. My pistol will be on my holster, but I’ll have the detonator in my hand. You open the door, and we’ll go inside. If we meet anyone, you tell them we’re checking out what seems to be a glitch in the sensor circuits—one of the monitors is reporting only intermittently. If they ask why you’re still on duty, say you’re filling in for someone. Who’s the sergeant on call back at the barracks?”

  “Jensen.”

  “Tell them you’re filling in for Jensen, then. He got drunk, and now he’s on report. If you need to speak to me by name, call me Dreyfuss. Have you got it?”

  Merot nodded. “I’ve got it.”

  “Good. Remember, if anyone attacks me, I’ll drop the detonator to go for my pistol. You make one wrong move, and you’ll become the first man in the Corps to give more than his life for his Emperor.”

  Merot swallowed hard. “What happens after we get inside?”

  “That depends on you,” Alexander said. “Behave yourself, and I’ll stun you and leave you somewhere out of the way.”

  Merot looked incredulous, but he moved when Alexander waved him toward the palace. He walked slowly but steadily toward the staff entrance. He opened the door exactly as Underwood had done, hours before.

  Alexander felt his skin crawl as he walked through the doorway behind the sergeant. He was inside the palace again. Now he just had to find his way to Antonio du Plessis’ suite—without getting caught.

  The guard at the door looked up as they entered. He seemed surprised to see Merot. “I thought you were off for the night, Sarge?”

  “I thought so, too,” Merot said, with a passable attempt at lightness. “Jensen turned up smashed, so I was on the hook. One of the monitors is skipping, and we’re going to check it out.”

  “Okay,” the guard said, barely glancing at Alexander. He turned his attention to a book reader in his lap, and Alexander saw that he was studying the Corps manual.

  Merot led the way without any more conversation and Alexander followed closely in his wake. They made it as far as the staff lounge before anyone else saw them. A guardsman came out of the lounge door and stopped in surprise. His name was Kuenen, and Alexander knew him well.

  “Is anything up, Sarge?” he asked.

  “No,” Merot said. He repeated the same story about the errant monitor and the man seemed satisfied.

  “Need any help?” he said.

  “No, thanks,” Merot said. “Dreyfuss here is an expert. That’s why I brought him along.”

  The guardsman glanced at Alexander with interest but didn’t seem to recognize him. “Okay, I’ll get back to my post, then. I was just taking a leak.”

  Alexander could almost feel his back itch as they walked away from Kuenen. There was no hail, no order to halt, and then they turned the corner and were out of his sight.

  “Where are we going?” Merot asked grimly.

  “The back of the house,” Alexander said. “You’re doing great. Keep it up, and you can keep your dick.”

  They met no one else as they walked through the dim, silent corridors. Alexander waved to the corridor he wanted and Merot turned obediently.

  “What are you looking for here?” he said. “It’s just parlors and reception rooms and maybe a guest room or two. There’s no way to get to the women’s quarters from here.”

  Alexander smiled to himself as he realized why Merot thought he had come back. “Shut up and keep walking.”

  They checked several rooms without Alexander finding what he wanted.

  “What are you looking for?” Merot said, mystified.

  “I’m looking for a parlor with a large mirror and two yellow sofas. You can save us both some aggravation if you know where it is.”

  Merot stared at him. “What do you want with the room where Emperor Lothar died?”

  It was Alexander’s turn to be surprised. “He died in that room?”

  “Like you didn’t know?”

  “I didn’t, actually. Which room is it?”

  Merot pointed. “Last door on the left.”

  “Move, then,” Alexander ordered, holding the detonator suggestively.

  Merot walked briskly at this hint, and opened the door when Alexander directed him to do so.

  “So what now?” Merot said.

  “Now you take a little nap.” Alexander shifted the detonator to his left hand and fumbled for his stun gun.

  “While you do what?”

  “Never mind about that.” Alexander started to lift the stun gun but before he could fire, Merot made a lightning fast dive for the detonator. The older man clamped down on Alexander’s left hand and tried to knee him in the groin at the same time.

  Alexander avoided the blow and brought the butt of the stun gun down as hard as he could on Merot’s head.

  The sergeant staggered and loosened his grip on Alexander’s hand. Alexander kicked him in the stomach, and Merot fell to the floor.

  “Don’t move!” Alexander ordered.

  Merot lay on the floor looking up at him angrily. “You damned traitor! You’re a disgrace to that uniform!”

  Alexander thought about all that he knew of Merot, and something snapped in him. “And you’re a disgrace to your species.” Very deliberately he took his thumb from the switch.

  There was a soft plopping noise, and Merot gave a strangled scream of pain. Blood soaked his crotch and ran onto the thick pile of the carpet.

  Alexander took a step closer and looked down at him. “That’s for Mona Sandowsky and Celia Mjoseth and all the other women you’ve abused.”

  Merot didn’t seem to hear him. He wailed a low keening wail that rose in volume. Alexander frowned and pulled his energy pistol from his belt. He fired once to the head, holding the switch down for several seconds until Merot sank silently back onto the carpet.

  Alexander took a last look at him, and then he began to study the frame of the mirror.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Tonio,” a voice said softly. “Tonio, I’m cold.”

  Antonio didn’t answer. Something tugged on his arm, and he came awake, sliding one hand under his pillow. He had slept with a weapon close at hand ever since Vinitra’s wedding night. If anyone had ever interrupted them, he would have been dead before he could know their secret, let alone reveal it.

  “Tonio!” Vinitra’s voice said in alarm. “It’s only me. I’m cold. You took all the covers!”

  He glanced at her in the dimness. She was naked, just as he required, but he himself was wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. He had put the pistol back and reached down to loosen himself from the tangled mass of bedclothes when a
distinct click sounded from the next room.

  “What was—” Vinitra started to say.

  “Shh!” Antonio ordered quietly, putting a hand firmly over her mouth. He picked up the pistol with his other hand. He needed to act, but he needed to protect her, too. “Lie down on the floor, Vinnie. Be very quiet, and keep the bed between you and the door to the sitting room.”

  She obeyed him silently, her eyes wide with fear as she slid to the foot of the bed and then to the floor. Antonio stretched out in bed and slid his right hand under his pillow, gripping the pistol tightly. He waited tensely, and in a few seconds the door opened. A dark shape was outlined against the faint illumination of the sitting room.

  As the figure lifted his arm, Antonio squinted to prepare his eyes. “Lights, on full!” he shouted.

  The lights came on instantly. The intruder fired. Antonio felt rather than saw the shot hit the pillow next to his head.

  Antonio fired twice. The man gave a cry and something fell to the floor with a thud. Antonio fired again, and then rolled from the bed to land on the floor near Vinitra.

  When he looked up, the intruder swayed on his feet and clawed at his belt as if he were trying to reach for another weapon. After a second, he toppled and fell to the floor.

  “Are you all right, Vinnie?” Antonio demanded.

  Vinitra lifted her head slowly. “Yes. Who is it?”

  Antonio stood up. “I don’t know. I got him, though. Get his pistol.”

  She scurried across the floor to snatch at the fallen weapon while Antonio climbed over the bed and stood next to the man on the floor.

  “A guardsman!” he said in surprise, as he stooped to pull a second, smaller weapon from the man’s belt.

  “Is he dead?” Vinitra asked.

  The fallen man moved, and Antonio frowned. “No.” He lifted his energy pistol, and then he paused. “A guardsman?”

  “Shall I call for your guards?” Vinitra asked timorously, pulling the bedclothes around her nakedness as she stood at the foot of the bed.

  “Don’t be stupid, Vinnie,” Antonio said. “And let them find you in here?”

  Her face contorted in fear. “Then what do we do? If we can’t turn him over to the guards, you’ll have to kill him, Tonio.”

  “Eventually, of course I will. But not just yet.”

  He bent over the wounded man and assessed his condition. His assailant moaned and clutched his right arm with his left hand.

  “Go look in my desk,” Antonio ordered. “There’s a stun gun in the second left hand drawer. Bring it here.”

  Vinitra hurried to obey him, and soon returned with the requested weapon. Antonio aimed it at the writhing guardsman and fired swiftly. The man collapsed unconscious on the floor.

  “Now,” Antonio said, unfastening the attacker’s belt, “get dressed, Vinnie. I need to call Sergei, and not even he is allowed to see you naked.”

  • • •

  Sergei Paznowski’s face on the com screen looked tense but alert. “Yes, Excellency?”

  “I need you, Sergei,” Antonio said flatly. “There’s an intruder in my suite.”

  “Are you hurt, Excellency?” Paznowski asked.

  “No,” Antonio said, with some pride. “I wounded him and then stunned him, but he didn’t get me at all or—or anyone else. I’ve got him thoroughly restrained now.”

  Paznowski frowned. “Was it another raid? How did he get in?”

  “No alarms have gone off,” Antonio said grimly. “And he came in through the secret door.”

  Paznowski looked surprised. “It was Count Barranca?”

  “Not that door,” Antonio said, annoyed. “The other one. And,” he added portentously, “he’s a guardsman.”

  Paznowski sat silently for a few seconds. “A guardsman,” he said slowly.

  “Yes. Get here right away, Sergei. I need to talk to you.”

  “Pardon, Excellency, but I have an idea.” Paznowski glanced away and then back at the com. “It’ll be morning in less than two hours. If you’re truly safe and able to control this intruder, it might be best if I waited until a more reasonable hour to come calling. I’m presuming there’s no question of turning him over to the Corps alive?”

  “None. He saw Vinnie in my bed.”

  Paznowski flinched. “Please, Excellency! Not over the com!”

  “Oh, all right,” Antonio said, irritated at himself as much as at Paznowski. “You think it’s best to wait?”

  “Yes, Excellency. And when I come, I’ll bring my wife.”

  “Cassandra?” Antonio said in surprise. What could this have to do with her?

  “Yes, Excellency. It seems to me that she has a lot to answer for in this instance.”

  Antonio frowned as he considered this. Sergei had never been wrong. Could Cassandra be involved? “She knew about the door,” he said slowly. “I showed it to her myself about ten years ago.”

  “Precisely, Excellency.”

  The thought that Cassandra had aided his enemies made Antonio’s head ache with rage. “I think you’re right.”

  “It would be best if you were to go ahead and restore your, ah, visitor to her proper chamber, Excellency,” Paznowski said. “It wouldn’t do for anyone else to see the intruder.”

  “You’re right on that, too. We’ll do it now.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as it’s advisable, Excellency.”

  “Good.” Antonio signed off and turned to where Vinitra waited, fully dressed.

  “You heard him, Vinnie,” Antonio said. “Lock the door to Barranca’s room and start the sequence for the gas.”

  Vinitra walked to the desk, opened the drawer and pressed a couple of switches inside it.

  “Give me the hypo,” Antonio said, holding out his hand.

  His sister looked surprised as she handed him a hypospray. “Are you coming with me this time?”

  “Yes. Open the door and let’s go. The gas should be effective by now.”

  Vinitra moved to the wall and activated the control for the door. When it slipped open, brother and sister stepped into the hidden corridor.

  They held hands as they wound their way through it, and then Vinitra opened the door at the other end and stepped into Peter Barranca’s closet. It was almost empty, as Gregorio kept most of the Count’s clothes in his dressing room. Vinitra slid the closet door open and stepped into the bedroom itself.

  Antonio was right behind her. He sniffed to make sure the gas had dissipated, and then called for the lights to come on. “How touching,” he said, looking down at the couple in the bed, their eyes still closed in drug-induced somnolence.

  Marie slept on her side, one hand laid across Peter’s chest. Peter cradled her with one arm and had the other arm flung around her protectively.

  “They seem quite fond of each other.” Antonio said. “Are you jealous, my dear?”

  “No,” Vinitra said crossly. “I don’t care what he does. I’d rather he had her than you.”

  Antonio pretended to misunderstand her. “I don’t know that I’d mind having him. He has a lovely body, don’t you think?”

  Vinitra looked at him in amazement. “Don’t be foolish, Tonio. Give her the hypo and get her out of here.”

  “In a moment. I want to look at them.” He twitched the bedclothes back so that both occupants of the bed were fully visible. Their night clothes had ridden up around their waists and both of them were bare-legged.

  “A very nice body,” Antonio said, without saying which of them he meant. He bent over Marie and pressed the hypospray against her neck. A few moments after the hiss of the activation switch, the woman stirred and gave a slight groan.

  “Get up, my dear,” Antonio said. “Time to arise and face the day.”

  She sat up suddenly, naked fear on her face, when she saw Antonio standing over her.

  “Now,” Antonio said, smiling pleasantly, “I want to reiterate what I told you that first night. If you ever mention anything about this to anyone, yo
u’ll be dead within an hour. And what’s more,” he added gesturing toward the bed, “I’ll make you watch your lover die first.”

  Her eyes looked fearful, but Antonio noticed that she couldn’t resist studying Peter Barranca.

  “I won’t say anything, Excellency,” Marie said. “I never have, and I never will.”

  “Very good, my dear,” Antonio said approvingly. “Let’s leave the Princess to summon her servants, and we’ll go back to my suite and do the same for your escort.”

  Marie nodded, but Antonio was amused to note that she pulled the covers up protectively over Peter Barranca’s bare legs as she walked past the bed.

  • • •

  Antonio watched Sergei Paznowski inspect the guardsman slumped over in a chair in Antonio’s bedroom. Antonio had removed the guardsman’s tunic to expose his wounds, so the man was naked from the waist up, except for the restraint cords across his chest that bound him to the chair. Paznowski stared first at the face, tilting the unconscious man’s head by his hair so the light shone on his features and the swirl of his tattoo. Next, Paznowski studied the angry red burn Antonio’s energy pistol had made over his right shoulder and the similar wound visible on his right arm.

  “It was convenient that you had restraints handy, Excellency,” Paznowski said,

  Antonio chuckled. “You’d be surprised by what I found in my father’s dresser drawers.”

  “I doubt it, Excellency. In any event, he’s unquestionably a guardsman. That tattoo is quite genuine.”

  “But he doesn’t look anything like Sentinel,” Antonio said. “I remember the holo quite clearly. Could there be two of them?”

  Paznowski shook his head. “I think he’s wearing a disguise, Excellency. Thermaplex can be shaped, molded, and colored into a very realistic mask. Actors use it all the time—as do criminals.”

  Antonio poked the guardsman’s face with one finger. It didn’t feel like skin; if anything it felt warmer than skin, and slicker. “I believe you’re right, Sergei. Shall we take it off?”

  “I think so, Excellency.” Paznowski stepped close to the inert guardsman. “I want to see what Lady Cassandra’s reaction is when she sees him.”