Offspring (47 page)

“Your pardon,” Yin May said from the doorway. “Senator Reza would like to see both of you downstairs.”

The inevitable crisis. Kendi sighed. “What is it this time?” he asked as they headed for the stairs. “Alien invasion?”

“It would be easier for her to tell you,” May said. His face was tight. Kendi tried not to tense up and failed.

Downstairs they found everyone swarming around like termites in a broken mound. Salman was talking urgently to her running mate, Ched-Mulaar. A muted newsfeed showed a life-sized holo of a Ched-Balaar newscaster.

“What’s going on, Grandma?” Ben asked.

Salman’s face was tight. “Wanda Petrie’s been arrested for murder.”

“All life,” Kendi breathed. “Oh shit.”

“It becomes worse,” Ched-Mulaar said. “The person who—”

“It’s coming on!” someone shouted. The room went quiet and everyone turned to the newsfeed, which was no longer muted.

A—ator Mitchell Foxglove,” said the newscaster.

Mitchell Foxglove appeared on the feed.
“It is my sad duty,”
he said,
“to bring this to the world’s attention. “s many of you know, several months ago two people named Finn Day and Leona Day were murdered in their home. The crime distressed me beyond measure; the Finns were friends of mine, and I swore their killer would not go unpunished. However, the monastery Guardians were unable to find the killer.”

“Getting his jabs in about the monastery,” Salman muttered. She put on a coat. “Just do it, you bastard.”

“Thanks to a generous private donor, I was able to hire a private team of forensic specialists to perform a DN” sweep of the house. It took several months to process the results, but the team finally uncovered one set of DN” that we couldn’t explain. The Guardians have arrested Wanda Petrie, publicist for Senator Salman Reza’s campaign, and charged her with first-degree murder.”

A murmur went through the room, quickly shushed. Foxglove paused, as if he knew his viewers were gasping in horror.

“Where are you going, Grandma?” Ben asked.

“Press conference,” she said, already heading for the door with Yin May in tow. “For damage control. Stay here, my ducks, and don’t talk to anyone.”

“It saddens me that Senator Reza has now twice seen fit to involve criminals in her campaign,”
Foxglove continued.
“She accepted donations from racketeer Willen Yaraye and now one of her staff is accused of murder. She surrounds herself with crooks and killers, then dares to run for governor. I urge all honest citizens of Bellerophon to—”

“Shut him up,” Kendi barked, and the feed muted. “Now what?”

“The Senator will give a counter-statement,” said Ched-Mulaar. “She will point out that Wanda Petrie was fired many weeks ago and that we were unaware of any criminal activity.”

“Will that do any good?” Ben asked as the various campaign workers went back to their tasks.

Ched-Mulaar dipped his head. “I doubt it. This will hurt us much. Three days come between now and the election. That leaves no time for the news of Wanda Petrie to grow old and die among the voters.”

Foxglove vanished, and the feed showed a hologram of a restrained Wanda Petrie being led away by two human Guardians. She was trying unsuccessfully to hide her face.

“How long does it take to do a DN” sweep?” Kendi said suddenly.

“About a week to sweep the house,” Ben said. “Another five or six weeks to sort and process all the DN”, maybe another two weeks to correlate the result and produce a list of people.”

“So a little over eight weeks,” Kendi said. “But Wanda killed the Days several months ago. It was before Evan was born.”

“So?” Ben said.

Ched-Mulaar clacked his teeth in a wordless exclamation. “Mitchell Foxglove must have had the results of the DN” sweep weeks ago,” he said. “He kept the results to himself until this moment because he knew releasing them now would hurt our campaign the most.”

“In other words,” Kendi growled, “he let a murderer walk free to aid his own campaign.”

“So did Grandma,” Ben said.

“Yeah, but we were going to turn Wanda in after Grandma was elected.”

“In other words,” Ben said, “we let a murderer walk free to aid Grandma’s campaign.”

“Maybe so,” Kendi said, “but we didn’t...we weren’t...” He trailed off.

“Yeah,” Ben said quietly. “You know, I’m really tired of politics.”

Kendi sighed. “So am I.”

The next three days were spent in a frenzy of activity. Both Ben and Kendi made as many appearances as they could squeeze in. It was rough going. Everywhere they went, reporters asked for comments about Petrie. Kendi kept his answers short and scripted and tried not to look like he was operating on less than an hour’s sleep. He hated being away from Evan and Ara, but he consoled himself with the thought that it was only three days.

Unfortunately, his and Ben’s efforts seemed to have little effect. Salman’s polls dropped sharply, and even Ben’s power as the Offspring couldn’t seem to raise them to their original levels. Wanda Petrie, meanwhile, stayed in her jail cell and refused to speak to anyone, even her own lawyer.

On the day of the election, Foxglove and Ched-Pirasku were leading the polls, but Salman made a close enough second that the feed analysts declared it anybody’s race. Salman announced the time for speech-making was over. She rented the same gymnasium that Foxglove had blacked out, thereby creating the “Taper” nickname for the Unionists. The place was crowded with Salman supporters, most of them high-level campaign workers, volunteers, and other celebrities who had, like Ben and Kendi, endorsed Salman’s campaign. Kendi looked around at the crowd of humans and Ched-Balaar that formed a chattering, talking mass on the auditorium floor. Holographic signs silently shouted slogans.
Irfan Chose Salman! Salman Saves the Forests! Salman Keeps Us Safe!
Giant feeds projected on the walls and as free-standing holograms stood ready to report the latest exit polls. The voting itself had only opened a few hours ago, too early to expect projections. “n undercurrent of expectation and hope threaded through the crowd.

Off to one side, Ben cradled Evan in one thick arm as he talked to Keith and another human Kendi didn’t recognize. Lucia stood nearby with baby Ara. Reporters were everywhere, but they’d had to agree not to broadcast pictures of the infants before Salman’s team would grant them entry. Salman herself was talking to Yin May, while Ched-Mulaar browsed through the enormous buffet. A young man was chatting up Martina by the drink bar, and Kendi made a mental note to find out who it was. Bedj-ka sat on the floor in the corner playing some kind of miniature holographic game with a pair of children his own age. Tan had taken up a post by the main doors. Kendi looked up at the stage, remembering how much had happened since he had stood in the audience with Gretchen and watched Salman declare her candidacy.

Speaking of Gretchen...
he thought, and scanned the room. Gretchen was nowhere in sight. That struck Kendi as strange. In the past few months, Gretchen had spent more time on duty than off, and it seemed unlikely she’d absent herself today. Kendi trotted over to Tan to ask about it.

“No idea,” Tan rasped. “She was supposed to be on today, but didn’t show up. No one else could come in, so we’re short.”

“Gretchen didn’t show up?” Kendi said, uneasy. “That’s not like her. She may be abrasive, even bitchy, but she’s always reliable.”

Tan tapped her earpiece. “Gretchen Beyer.” Long pause. “No answer. I can leave a message if I want, but I already did.”

Kendi’s unease blossomed into heavy worry. “I don’t like it, Lewa. Ched-Theree said a whole bunch of Silent and Silenced have disappeared.”

“Oh god.” Tan looked worried herself. “I should have wondered if something was up, but I’ve been so busy coordinating with Senator Salman’s—anyway. We should check her house.”

“Let’s go,” Kendi said. “I’ll get Ben and—”

“By
we
, I meant
not you
, Kendi. It could be dangerous.”

“Gretchen’s saved my ass more times than I can count, Lewa,” Kendi said. “Besides, you said you were short-handed today. Who are you going to spare?”

“The Guardians can—”

“The Guardians can’t do anything until at least a day has passed,” Kendi interrupted. “By then it may be too late.” He tapped his earpiece. “Ben, Gretchen’s missing. We need to go look for her.”

“Kendi,” Tan warned.

“I’m pulling rank, Lewa,” Kendi said. “I’m going, and it’s going to be your job to keep me safe. So you better start planning.”

Ben, meanwhile, handed Evan over to Harenn and hurried over as quickly as he could without attracting undue attention from the reporters. Keith came with him.

“What’s this about Gretchen missing?” Ben demanded.

Kendi was already moving for the door. “I’ll explain on the way. Come on.”

“It’s not safe,” Tan said, catching his arm.

“I’ll come, too,” Keith interjected. “That’ll make two guards.”

Tan looked ready to protest further, but Kendi pulled away from her and headed out the door. Tan slapped her earpiece.

“Lars!” she barked. “Meet us out back with the flitcar. Now!”

Outside, the afternoon sun was shining. Lizards chirruped in the talltree branches, and spring flowers made merry rainbows in planters and boxes on balconies and window ledges. The walkways threading into the talltree forest around the gymnasium were busy with people, many of whom walked with one hand pressed to an ear as they listened to the feeds. A silver flitcar hovered just outside the gymnasium doors. Tan made sure the way was clear, then rushed Kendi and Ben into the vehicle with Keith close behind. Once the door was shut, Lars took them straight up. Kendi gave him Gretchen’s address.

“I want to go on record as saying this is an incredibly stupid idea,” Tan growled. “And that if anything happens to either of you, it isn’t my fault.”

“Noted,” Kendi grinned, feeling strangely exuberant. He was still worried about Gretchen, but it also felt good to be out there and doing something instead of giving speeches and letting people shepherd him around.

Gretchen lived in an apartment building near the boundary of the monastery and Treetown. On the flight, Keith abruptly dropped into a sullen silence. Ben stared out the window, obviously worried. The ever-present feed announced that early polls showed Foxglove with a two-percent lead over Ched-Pirasku. Salman trailed in a distant third place.

The apartment building resembled the beehive structure near the site where Ben and Kendi had made the blackmail dropoff, though this building was in better repair. Lars landed the flitcar on the roof, which poked up above the talltree. He left the flitcar running as Tan, Ben, Kendi, and finally Keith got out and dashed toward the stairway door. They clattered down the echoing stairwell to the fifth floor, where Gretchen had her apartment.

The corridor was a little dingy, and the wooden floor hadn’t been swept in a while. Tan moved ahead of the group to Gretchen’s door. She pressed her ear to it and listened, then pressed her thumb to the doorplate. From inside, Kendi heard the muffled sound of the computer announcing Tan’s presence. No response. Tan pressed her thumb again, then knocked. Still nothing. Kendi shifted from foot to foot, his nerves rubbing raw. Gretchen might be inside, hurt or unconscious or even dead and Tan was taking unreasonable precautions. He finally shouldered her aside and tried the door. It was unlocked. Before Tan could protest, Kendi burst into the apartment. Tan and the others boiled in behind him.

The living room was a total mess. Furniture lay askew, carpets were rumpled, and a broken coffee table scattered splintery shards across the floor. A circular scorch mark scarred one wall.

“A struggle,” Kendi said.

“No kidding,” Ben said.

“We need to call the Guardians. Don’t touch anything.” Tan tapped her earpiece.

Keith advanced cautiously into the room and disappeared into the kitchen. He reemerged a moment later. “No one’s there.”

“We should check the bedroom in case she’s...unconscious,” Ben said. He didn’t mention the word
dead
, but Kendi heard it nonetheless. Kendi dashed down the short hallway to the bedroom with Keith right behind him. On the way he checked the bathroom. Empty.

In contrast to the living room, Gretchen’s bedroom was perfectly tidy. Bed made, closet door closed, curtains drawn. Kendi dropped to the floor and checked under the bed. Nothing. A flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye. He flung himself sideways just in time to avoid the knife. The blade hit the floor with a
thunk
. Adrenaline singing in every vein, Kendi rolled to his feet. Keith yanked the knife free and brandished it at him.

“Keith!” Kendi said. “What the hell—?”

Keith lunged. Kendi twisted aside and collided with the side of the bed. He lost his balance and fell flat on his back on the mattress. A silent snarl twisted Keith’s face. Part of Kendi’s mind noticed that Keith’s eyes had a glazed look. Then Keith leaped forward, bringing the knife down. Kendi flung up his forearm and blocked Keith’s wrist. He stared at the knife pointed at his throat.