Spartan Resistance (15 page)

“Both?” Laszlo said sharply. “Back to where?”

“The agency,” Mariana told him. “This time, we get to go first class.”

Rob snorted. “First class? If I don’t hit a tree or screw up my landing, then I may drop one of ye. Never heard jumping called first class before.”

“After the last two days, jumping seems like five star travel to me.”

“Jumping?” Laszlo repeated. “
Time
jumping?”

“Just jumping,” Rob told him. “Although if you’ve got any qualms about touching a vampire, get over them now.” He moved closer to Mariana and slid his arm around her waist and tucked her in tight against him. Then he held his other arm out toward Laszlo and waited.

“I’m completely lost,” Laszlo said. “That’s happened a lot the last two days.”

“You were with Mariana. Most people have a hard time keeping up with her,” Rob told him. “Don’t let it bother you. Step into my arm. I can’t move over to you when I’m holding Mariana.”

“Still lost,” Laszlo said frankly and stepped up beside Rob. He was as tall as Rob, but his shoulders weren’t nearly Rob’s size.

Rob gripped him around the waist. “Ye might want to hold onto me yerself,” he advised. “I don’t know what happens to people that let go in the middle of a jump and I don’t plan to find out.”

“Holding,” Laszlo said in the same dazed tone. He threaded his arm over the top of Rob’s shoulder. Mariana couldn’t reach that high, so she hugged Rob’s waist, instead.

“On three,” Rob warned. “One…two…three!” They jumped into the air and cool darkness formed around them, broken only by the display of the atomic clock on the wall of the arrival chamber.

Mariana converted the Julian date to Gregorian. “Right on the money,” she told Rob.

“Sweet Jesus!” Laszlo breathed. “Where are we?”

“The agency villa in Rome,” Mariana told him. “I told you it was first class travel. Thank you, Rob. I appreciate the short cut.”

“For you, anytime.” He opened the heavy door to the chamber and the low lights illuminating the foyer for the arrival chambers filtered through the doorway. It was late, in Rome hours. Close to midnight. Mariana picked up Laszlo’s hand, for he stood in the middle of the chamber, uncertainty making him hesitant.

“Come on,” she said gently. “I’ll call a cab for you and see you to the door. Just think of the nice hot shower waiting for you.”

He stirred and let her lead him from the chamber. As they passed Rob, Laszlo turned to face him. “Thank you. For the…short cut.”

Rob tilted his head in a short nod. “You’d better check in with Nayara before you leave. It’s the polite thing to do, as you’re inside her agency.”

“Of course,” Mariana said. “I’ll take him straight there.”

“Nayara Ibarra?” Laszlo asked. He blew out his breath. “The head of the agency. Very well. Lead on.”

Mariana grinned. “When you get mixed up with agency business, life takes on all sorts of novel aspects. I tried to explain. About vampires.”

Laszlo nodded. “I’m starting to understand.”

“Let’s find Nayara,” she told him. “Then you can go and get some sleep.”

Chronometric Conservation Agency Headquarters, Villa Fontani, Rome, 2265 A.D.

Brenden stopped off in his office to find a cloth to clean up his hands and face after inspecting the wreckage of the limousine Rob and his team had brought over from Brazil. The windows were set to opaque, but he had left the door open and heard when Mariana and her hot date arrived. They spoke quietly, but Brenden could generally hear everything said out there when the door was open. He didn’t even need to ratchet up his listening to hear it.

“Wow,” the man breathed. “That’s Nayara, isn’t it?”

“She does tend to take your breath away,” Mariana said. “Come and say hello.”

That meant that Nayara had arrived in the command center from her office. Brenden had sent her a message as he was leaving the garage.

“Laszlo Wolffe,” Nayara said. “I’m sorry that you seem to have been caught up in agency affairs. We’re still assessing the jump car wreckage to determine what caused the failure. I hope it does end up being simple negligence. That would make life easier for us, but it doesn’t alleviate the challenges you’ve faced in the last two days.”

“Thanks to Mariana, the whole affair was simply an inconvenience. It could have been much worse.”

Startled, Brenden lowered the cloth. What had Mariana done? Rob’s report suggested that she had paid off some drug king by recklessly promising to dump funds into his account. What pissed him the most was that the funds had been paid, meaning the agency had gone along [would go along] with her little scheme.

It had been a smart idea, though, he had to admit. Worthy of some of the self-preserving quick-thinking their travelers used.

Well, she has been working with travelers for over two years
, a corner of his mind piped up. That was it, he decided. She’d heard some long tale from the travelers and had applied it to her own situation. How she had been stupid enough to get into that situation in the first place was something else he was going to have to sort out.

“Yes, Rob updated me on the highlights,” Nayara said. “If you prefer, we can add your half of the ransom onto your time travel tour invoice. Then we can handle the entire historical transaction ourselves. Does that suit you?”

“Thank you, yes.” The human stifled a yawn. “Excuse me.”

Brenden rolled his eyes.

He heard the command center doors open, then Nayara said, “You’re up late, Deonne.”

“Brenden screamed at me via the comm. Something about a PR disaster?”

That was his cue. He should go out there and get this done. But a perverse reluctance kept him where he was.

“Brenden is down in the garage, looking at the wreck,” Nayara said. “Although he did ask me to step in and speak to him. I was waiting for him. What’s the PR disaster, Mariana?”

Brenden found it interesting that Nayara instantly assumed Mariana was at the center of the disaster.

Mariana took her time answering. “I may have lost my temper with the media people in Macapá.”

That’s one way to put it
, Brenden thought. He recalled the footage again. Her big eyes looking into the cameras, steady and confident, as she had spoken. Her anger had been more than evident. Brenden couldn’t recall the last time he had seen someone skewer the press with their own question in quite the same way. It would have been entertaining, if she hadn’t been using the agency to do it.

The human snorted. “They provoked her,” he said flatly. “And I place it a long way from ‘disaster’, myself.”

Of course he would defend her. Brenden threw down the rag with an impatient movement and stalked out into the command center. Deonne was leaning over the table. Leaning
on
the table, her hair down and her face pale. Brenden felt no regret over breaking her sleep cycle. It was her job to fix things. She could fix them when they happened, or she could find a job with a human corporation.

Nayara was standing at the top corner of the big operations table, in one of her long green velvet business gowns, her red hair glowing against it.

Mariana stood with her back to the table, wearing the same dress she had been wearing in the footage. She looked smaller in person. She always did. Every time Brenden saw her around the villa, he was surprised yet again by her size. She seemed bigger in his mind.

“About time you got here,” he growled.

Mariana looked at him and he saw her chest rise as she drew in a breath. Then she turned and faced him squarely. Confronting him. Under his anger, Brenden could feel admiration for her courage stirring. He batted the idea away impatiently.

The human standing next to her shifted. It was a neat step that brought him in front of her. Protecting her. Brenden noted the footwork. There was something familiar about it.

But the human was looking at him coolly. “Mariana defended vampires for what she sees as a grave injustice. I’d be a bit more grateful to her, if I were you. She bought you priceless goodwill.”

Brenden opened his mouth to dispute that, but Nayara spoke first. “Perhaps we can see what this supposed disaster is?”

“Yes, please,” Deonne said tiredly and yawned.

He stepped around Deonne and slapped the table top with his palm. They gathered around the table as Mariana’s diatribe replayed, duplicated in frames in front of everyone.

Deonne looked up at Nayara. “Mr. Wolffe is right. This isn’t the disaster it looks like. I say we let it flow as it will and monitor. It could turn our way and if it does that will be a very nice bonus.”

“She went off message,” Brenden pointed out.

“Mariana isn’t required to be on-message in the first place,” Deonne said coolly, standing up to her full height.

He knew that stance. She was planning on disputing him again.

“Key messages are for public figures and representatives of the agency and she is neither,” Deonne said. “She stayed on message until they found her vulnerability. Even then she had the control necessary to stipulate very clearly that she wasn’t speaking for the agency. I’d say she did very well, for someone caught flat-footed and with zero preparation.”

Brenden scowled.

“Leave it, Brenden,” Nayara said quietly.

He looked at her. She shook her head. It was a barely perceptible movement, but he understood. If he pushed this any farther she would take it out of him later. He shut up, but he didn’t like it.

“We’ll monitor as Deonne suggests,” Nayara told him. “In the meantime, the humans in the room need sleep. You and I can pick this up later if we need to.”

Brenden shook his head. “The girl wasn’t a public figure until tonight, but as long as she keeps
his
company,” and he looked at the man, “then she
is
a public figure. You’d better do your job, Deonne, and make sure she doesn’t fuck up again.”

“Hey!” the man declared loudly.

“Brenden, that’s enough,” Nayara snapped. “Mariana, get Mr. Wolffe a cab home. Deonne, please go back to bed and make sure you get adequate rest. We’ll clear your calendar for the early morning. You, too, Mariana.”

“Thank you.” Deonne turned and left, her flats slapping the tiles softly.

Mariana drew in a breath that shook. Brenden could hear it clearly. She curled her hand around the man’s arm. “Come with me. I’ll call a cab for you from the front office.” She was clearly trying to get him out of the room.

The man nodded, but his gaze hadn’t moved away from Brenden. For the first time, Brenden noticed that he was almost as tall as him. He had clear green eyes and the sort of thick neck that came from working a body hard. But he was a playboy celebrity. When had he ever lifted a finger except to draw women and waiters over to his side?

“You’re the Spartan, aren’t you?” the man said.

“I’m the Spartan,” he agreed. “You’re the bachelor.” He didn’t bother hiding how little that impressed him.

Mariana tugged gently on Laszlo’s arm and he moved away from Brenden with a turn of his square shoulders that silently said he was dismissing him. Then he drew Mariana closer to him and tucked his arm around her waist.

Brenden turned away. He didn’t need to see more. He looked at Nayara, who was studying him, her arms crossed.

“There wasn’t anything suspicious about the car,” he told her. “But I want to go over it again, just to be sure.”

“Do I have to remind you that Laszlo Wolffe is one of the agency’s clients?”

Brenden blinked. Why was she saying that?

Nayara straightened up from her lean against the table. “You were rude to Wolffe and you were mean to Mariana. Neither of those things are what I would expect from you. If you have personal issues with either of them, then resolve those issues. I expect you to do your job with professionalism. Is that clear?”

He was so surprised it took him a second to regroup. “Clear,” he said stiffly. It had been a long time since Nayara had spoken in that way to him. They were friends and their work together was easy-going and casual. He hadn’t been
that
bad. Had he?

Nayara’s expression softened and she smiled gently. “Does she really bother you that much?”

“Bother me?”

Her smile grew warmer. “Yes. Bother you. Get under your skin. Drive you crazy. Pick your metaphor, big guy.”

“She’s human,” Brenden said and tried to make it sound dismissive.

“So she is,” Nayara agreed. “
Very
human. Is that why you watch her all the time?”

Brenden stepped backwards. Away from the conversation. “I have to go.”

“Alright,” Nayara replied, her smile still in place.

Brenden went back to his office and closed the door.

Of course she didn’t bother him.

But he couldn’t get the image out of his mind of Wolffe’s arm around her waist.

* * * * *

Mariana let Laszlo lead her from the command center, then stepped away from his arm.

“He’s fierce, isn’t he?” Laszlo remarked.

“Brenden is only trying to defend the Agency. They get slings and arrows from all directions, every day. He gets defensive when he thinks someone is going to smear their reputation yet again.”

Laszlo looked doubtful. “I thought it was more personal than that.”

“He thinks I screwed up and he’s right. It
is
personal, for him. I put his home and his family at risk. Let’s not talk about Brenden any more. I’m too tired to think properly and you didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Very well,” Laszlo said stiffly.

Mariana sighed. Now she had offended Laszlo.

They waited outside in the cool night air for the taxi to arrive, neither of them saying much. The few comments they made were neutral and polite. It was a sour end to the adventure and Mariana tried to find a way to right the matter.

As the taxi rambled up to the steps, she picked up Laszlo’s hand. His long fingers curled around hers and he looked at her. She could see his tiredness in the half-lidded droop of his eyes.

“Thank you for dinner,” she told him.

“You’re thanking me?”

“For a memory that I’ll never lose, yes.” She realized she was squeezing his hand and loosened her grip. “You should know, Laszlo Wolffe, that you’re not my type, either.”