Rules of Conflict (54 page)

“Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry,” Hals said softly. “The
lawyer shortage at colonial bases is a well-known fact.”

The three of them stared over one another’s heads and struggled to
keep the smiles off their faces.

Friesian broke away to the sofa and gathered his gear. Then they
walked out into the burning afternoon. A steel blue four-seater hovered in the
Ten Minute oval in front of the hospital. Friesian raised a hand; the officer
behind the wheel waved in response.

“My ride is here already. Imagine that.” He offered Hals a sharp
salute. “Colonel. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Likewise, Major.” Hals saluted in return. “Safe trip.”

Friesian turned to Jani, and held out his hand. “It’s been . . .”

“Yeah.” Jani laughed. “Sorry for all the excitement.”

“Maybe in a few years, when the dust has settled, we can hook up.
Have a good, long talk.”

“Sure.” Jani agreed easily to a meeting she knew would never take
place. Time would interfere. Distance. Or most likely, sweet reason. Friesian
would realize that he didn’t want to know what he didn’t know.

She waved to him one last time as his vehicle skimmed out of the
oval. “I wonder what’s waiting for him on Luna?”

“A nice attempted murder, he said.” Hals frowned. “He may have
been joking.” She adjusted her brimmed lid and led Jani to a rent-a-scoot
stand.

Jani glanced back toward the hospital. Through the tinted
scanglass, she could see Niall Pierce standing in the lobby window, dressed in
pajamas, his bathrobe wrapped tightly around him. She hesitated, then raised
her hand in farewell. He kept his hands buried in his robe pockets; she could
feel his eyes follow her as she boarded the scoot, and it pulled away.

“I’m sorry none of us made it in to see you the past few
weeks,” Hals said as she steered along the path.

Jani broke the code of that remark. “How is Burkett?”

Hals grinned. She seemed more relaxed now. Her shoulders had
unclenched, and her hand rested easily on the steerbar. “He’s been surprisingly
helpful. He arranged for everybody in FT to attend the weekly Diplo update
meetings. And we’ll all attend Diplomacy School, which means we all wind up
with Foreign Service entries in our records. Nice little notation, come
promotion time.” She glanced at Jani. “He sends his regards, by the way. Trusts
you’ll make yourself available for consultation once you’re settled.”

“Tell him to get out his expense book. Advice from the Eyes and
Ears will not come cheap.”

“I think he knows that.” For the first time, the contentment left
Hals’s face. “I could have used you here. Our interactions with the idomeni are
going to get more and more complicated, and no one else here has your
experience.”

Jani glanced in the side mirror and watched the South Central Base
recede from view. “You can handle the idomeni. As for me, well, I seem to encourage
your unconventional side.”

Hals nodded grudging agreement. “There is that.” She steered into
the drop-off oval adjacent to the station. “What time is your train?”

“Seventeen up.” Jani checked her timepiece. “Just enough time for
me to buy a newssheet and something to eat.”

Hals helped Jani with her gear, then ambled around the oval.
“Speaking of which, if you could suggest any newssheets or periodicals we
should subscribe to, I’d appreciate it.” She glanced down the stairs that led
from the train platform down to the charge lot, and stopped. “Oh. My. God.”

Jani hurried to the railing to find Lucien looking up at them from
the middle of the half-empty lot. His hair glimmered in contrast to his black
T-shirt. His beige trousers were tasteful, but
fitted
. Black sunshades
covered his eyes. The skimmer he leaned against looked like an oil droplet in a
stiff headwind, and cost more than the entire population of Base Command made
in a month.

Hals exhaled with a whistle. “Don’t tell me—that’s your nurse.” She
shook her head in wide-eyed wonder. “Next time I have a day off, maybe we can
meet for lunch. You can tell me Tsecha stories.” She sneaked another glance at
Lucien. “And anything else you think needs an airing.”

“Sure.” Jani smiled. “Thanks for calling my folks, Frances.”

“No problem, Jani.” Hals gripped her shoulders in a quick hug. “Be
seeing you.”

Flowers in hand, feeling like an underdressed bride in her base
casual tee and trousers, Jani descended toward the vision that awaited her.

“Hello.” Lucien met her at the foot of the stairs. “I had the
afternoon off. Thought you might need a ride into the city.”

“That was nice of you.”

“I have my moments.” He tossed her duffel into the boot as though
it weighed grams and not kilos, then helped her into the skimmer as though
nursing actually was on the agenda.

Jani snuggled against plush black leather and ran her hand over
the polished ebony dash. “Mind if I ask?”

Lucien maneuvered out of the lot and ramped immediately onto a
Boul artery. “One of the Caos, in a small way. Husband’s spending the summer
touring the colonial holdings. She’s spending the day sucking up to the
in-laws.”

“Does she know you’re spending the day with her skimmer?”

“That’s not nice.”

“Sorry.”

The Plan involved finding Jani a reasonably priced hotel, followed
by a recon mission to get the lay of the land and possibly dinner. However, she
had certain criteria that needed to be met regarding the hotel. By the time
they found an establishment with easy access to train stations and major thoroughfares,
a secure entry, and a room from which she could view the comings and goings on
the street outside
and
rapidly access stairwells, emergency exits, and
alleys, the clock had struck midnight and then some and her self-appointed
guardian angel was muttering mutiny.

“Guess the lay of the land will have to wait until tomorrow.” Jani
stood by one of the room’s narrow windows and checked her timepiece. “Make that
later today.”

“That was ridiculous.” Lucien lowered to the small couch, testing
the cushions with skeptical probes of his fingers. “Everyone who was looking
for you found you and threw you back—you’re off the hook.”

“Humor me.”

“I’ve been doing that since the day we met. I’m getting tired of
it.”

Whoops.
Jani perched on one of the built-in window seats.
Outside, the city lights shone. Ten floors below, skimmers coursed, bearing
people who never had to worry whether their backs were covered.
I wonder
what that’s like?
Looks like she’d get the opportunity to find out. “Most
folks have some kind of celebration on Discharge Day.” She looked at Lucien,
who looked perplexed.

“Who else do you know in Chicago?”

Jani pretended to ponder. “Only you.”

His expression changed to one of profound concentration. “I’m
signed out until oh-eight-thirty.” He picked his words like delicacies from a
tray. “If that will help you make up your mind.”

Jani took in the cityscape one last time. Then she fiddled with
the window adjustments until she found the privacy setting. The cast of the
scanglass altered subtly, blocking the view from prying eyes.

“If you’re toying with me again,” Lucien said as she walked toward
him, “I’m going to be really, really upset.”

“You’re so suspicious.” Jani straddled him, eased down onto his
lap, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Looks like I have a lot of
fence-mending to do.” She planted butterfly kisses on his forehead, his lips
and cheeks, at the same time brushing her fingertips along the back of his neck
until he shivered.

“I should say so.” Lucien didn’t waste much time on preliminaries—he
had gotten the lay of her land long ago. He pulled her shirt up over her head.
The bandbra followed. He eased her onto her back and finished undressing her;
his clothes soon joined hers on the floor. He looked like a young god in the
half-light, down from the mountain to help her celebrate her freedom. He didn’t
tell her he loved her—she wouldn’t have believed him if he had. Love was
something he did and was good at; right then it was what she needed. First, he
said things to her that made her laugh. Then he did things to her that made her
cry out.

Then it was his turn, and the first press of his naked body atop
hers was a shock she didn’t want to recover from for a very long time.

Evan sat on the patio, his chair in the shadows, glass in
left hand, right hand dangling over the side. The second bottle of the day,
half-empty, rested on the table at his left elbow. He had decided to wait for
as long as it took, but it had been a hell of a day. First, news of Jani’s
discharge had filtered in via Markhart. Then his attempts to reach several old
friends had been bounced back, along with the notice that their services would
not accept calls from his code.

One up
. He’d give the son of a bitch until one up. Then
he’d retire to the cool quiet of his office and compose a second letter to a
wider audience.

He flexed his aching knee, then tensed as a rustle of leaves
sounded from the rear of the yard. Something rattled closer, careless in its
approach, like one of the neighbor dogs on a gallivant.

A few meters beyond the edge of the reflected streetlight, the
sound stopped. Then, silently as the predator he was named for, Mako glided
into view. He wore dark clothes—long-sleeved shirt and trousers. His hands hung
at his sides, empty.

Evan tossed back the balance of his drink. “You took your
goddamned time.”

Mako grunted as he stepped onto the patio. His dark shoes made no
noise on the flagstone. “I don’t know if you heard, but we’ve been dealing with
an incident. Neoclona has turned my medical services upside down and Cao and
Tsecha are watching my every move.” He sank into the only other chair, which
Evan had taken care to position in the light. “Now, I’m here.”

“How much interference are you throwing out?”

“Enough. I’ve been properly fitted against every sort of
electronic surveillance.” The soft patter of ergonomic clicks sounded as Mako
shifted in his seat. “You’d be more comfortable, I’m sure, if you put that
knife away.”

Evan’s right hand clenched. The knife, a serrated bread slicer
taken from the kitchen, comforted him with its cool heft. “If you don’t mind, I
think I’ll keep it.”

“Put it away, van Reuter. If I’d wanted to kill you, I’d have done
it a half hour ago, when you stepped into the bushes to piss.”

“You were out there?”

“I’ve been here for over an hour, standing out by your lovely
roses, watching you drink.” Black eyes, scarcely visible through skinfolds and
cheekbone, closed in pain as Mako worked his neck. “Killing you would provide
me some repayment for the hell of these past weeks, but not enough.” He opened
his eyes, and gazed at Evan in quiet disgust. “What do you want?”

Evan flexed his right arm, gone numb from the position and the
tension. “Just a foot in the door. Idomeni consultant. Seat on a
Service-civilian commission. A chance to get in the ’sheets once in a while,
keep me from gathering dust.” The final words hung up in his throat. “I’ll take
anything.”

“Bah-hah.” Mako’s rough laugh bubbled like a stuck drain. “You’ll
take anything
now
. I know you, van Reuter. Once you get that foot in the
door, you’ll force your way in and start stuffing your pockets.”

“It’s the Family way.” Evan smiled. “I’m getting a renewed taste
of the Family way. I catch the lucky break, comparatively speaking. I’m one of
theirs, and they don’t want to risk setting any unfortunate precedents with the
tang of revolution in the air. That makes the verdict death by shunning.” He
refilled his glass. “But you’re an outsider, Roshi. You’re pro-colonial, in
spite of your protests that you’re apolitical, and what you pulled at Rauta
Shèràa Base sure as hell proved that you’re anti-Family. They’d chew you up and
play flipstick with the bones.”

Mako sat back, his spine straight and stiff as a flagpole. “If
what you say about your predicament is true, who would believe you?”

Evan had prepared his bluff for that one. “The Unsers, for
starters. Jerzy Unser’s married to Shella Nawar, who just happens to be the
Justice Minister’s daughter. What’s more, they all get along. I predict a
domino effect.”

Mako exhaled shakily. A long silence followed. Finally, a rumbling
sigh. “These idomeni. They are a trial.”

Evan’s heart leapt. “Aren’t they, though.”

“I daresay we could use some advice, from time to time.”

“Thank you, Roshi.”

“Have you got another glass?”

Evan, as it happened, did. He filled it, then took care to
maintain his distance as he handed it to Mako. Cornered animals could still
strike, even when they seemed subdued. His fingers ached from gripping the
knife handle.

But Mako remained seated. He even said, “Thank you.” Neither offered a formal toast, but they did sip
at the same time. A deal sealer, of sorts, although Mako would never admit it
and Evan would never think to push.