Vicky Peterwald: Target (4 page)

“Strange, I always thought that the more I knew, the more likely I was to stay alive. But, I see your point. You are playing several different games here, and you are likely guessing what the rules are. Do you really want me to be guessing at them as well? Let me offer you this,” Vicky said, and began unzipping her shipsuit. “All they can offer you is money. I, on the other hand can offer you delight beyond your wildest imaginings.”

“Zip it up, Lieutenant. First, you scare me. Growing up in the palace, I suspect you were well trained in needlepoint and the Kama Sutra, for fun, pleasure, and self-defense. Second, I never have sex with someone I may later have to order killed. Sorry, Your Imperial Grace, but until I decide whether you live or die, you can keep your shirt on.”

Vicky zipped up, doing her best not to show her fury at the rejection. It was the first such event in her entire life.

You are going to pay for that one. Not now, but someday.

Still, Vicky did not pause but made her next move in this deadly game. “So, if we’re not going to be sexual partners, and if you’re keeping your options open to kill me, why not let me in on who’s bidding for my head and who just wants my body?”

“I’ve got to give it to you, Lieutenant, you do have a sense of humor. Still, I saw that flash of rage in your eyes. You don’t like rejection. Probably haven’t tasted much of it, I’d guess. It might be fun to keep you in the dark and see how good you are at guessing.”

Vicky had had enough of this. She put dead calm in her voice when next she spoke. “I know a lot about the dark, Admiral. I’ve lived in it most of my life. The palace likes to keep little girls in the dark. I learned sneaky when you were learning your ABC’s. I’ve been twisting secrets out of people since before you learned to write. Keep me in the dark, and I assure you, I will find out what I need. And since I won’t owe you anything, you won’t get anything from me but what, needlework?”

The admiral mulled her words over for a long moment. Then he stood. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

“Certainly, sir,” Vicky said, turning her voice to warm and friendly. “I’d love a cup of tea. I think I’ll take sugar today.”

The admiral went to a large silver samovar and filled two cups. “Chamomile for me,” Vicky said. “I’m finding our conversation stimulating enough.”

“A wise choice, Lieutenant.” And the admiral prepared two cups of the relaxing tea. Done, he offered her a teacup first, then took his seat again. For a long moment, they savored the aroma before sipping the tea.

Finally, he put his cup down. Vicky chose to hold hers in her hand. It wasn’t much of a shield, but it would have to do.

“What do you think of your father’s rule?” the admiral asked.

Vicky chose an honest answer. “For most of my life, I didn’t think much about it at all. Dad was Dad. He was much more interested in what Hank was doing, but he had an occasional smile for me in a new dress, and I savored what little I got. The world outside the palace was usually only glimpsed on a TV screen, and I never knew what was real and what was just fiction. It all seemed rather strange to me.”

“Then you joined the Navy,” the admiral provided.

“No, then my brother got himself killed, and suddenly Daddy’s little girl was the heir to the family’s power and fortune.” Vicky made a face. “I don’t think any of us were really prepared for that. They turned me loose on Eden as a kind of coming-out party. I did my best to kill Kris Longknife, thinking that she’d killed Hank, and failed miserably.”

Vicky put down her tea. “
Then
, they apprenticed me to Admiral Krätz, and my real education began. Among other things, he introduced me to Kris Longknife in the flesh. An interesting experiment, that. Kris insisted she hadn’t killed Hank. That Hank was too stupid to live and had a blind spot a mile wide where Dad’s weaknesses were concerned. I figured she was just trying to separate me from Daddy.”

Vicky leaned forward. “Watching Kris for the last few months, I’ve come to suspect that she sees just as many flaws in her own family as she sees in mine. I’ve been giving that a lot of thought.”

“What do you intend to do about that?” the admiral asked.

“I’m not sure,” Vicky admitted. “It’s one thing to see the flaws in a person or civil structure, something else entirely to do something about it. What do you think, Admiral?”

“I think Admiral Krätz was quite right in his last report. You are maturing rapidly.”

“Grow up or die,” Vicky said dryly.

The admiral leaned back and studied her for a long minute. Vicky picked up her tea and took a deep swallow. It tasted good and was at just that right temperature.

“The largest sum of money I received, the amount for your dead body, was from your Empress Annah and her family. Her brother, Edward Bowlingame personally delivered the cash.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Vicky drawled. “How have they been doing since I left?”

“Your stepmother’s pregnancy progresses apace, or so we are all told. Her family is prospering despite the problems in the Empire. Indeed, unlike your father, they have raised an army.”

Vicky frowned at that. “Does he approve?”

“Since they are not calling it an army, he doesn’t seem to notice. Officially, it’s a security service. People may contract for its services. It’s quite amazing how few businesses that contract with them are burned or trashed during the riots. Those that don’t, well, few refuse their services a second time. Why, there are even several planets that no longer require Navy support. The entire place is protected by the Empress’s family’s ongoing security concern.”

“Is that as bad as it sounds?” Vicky asked.

“Your father doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Have they got their fingers in the fleet?” Vicky asked. That was one fear Admiral Krätz shared with his young charge. Fear that the long, ongoing civil unrest would let outsiders into the fleet. That the cancer eating at the civil life of Greenfeld would get into the Navy’s blood.

“Several major supply contracts have gone to the Bowlingames, and a few of the shipyards are on planets under security-service protections. Strange how the ships from those yards are costing us more, and when delivered, need major refits in Navy yards before we dare take them to space.”

Vicky thought on his words for a long while. How could her dad be so blind to what was going on around him? Then, with his new wife, he’d been too busy to hear anything about what Kris Longknife and her forensic computer accountants had discovered on St. Petersburg. A solid commitment to a truth that was inconvenient was not one of her dad’s strong suits. It had been staring her in the face. She had done her best to ignore it.

Now his foolish bliss was a deadly threat to her.

Time to take the blinders off, as Kris Longknife would say.

“Okay, so you’ve been given money by my loving stepmother to see me dead. Who else gave you money and what do they want for their largesse?”

“There is another faction. You will excuse me if I make no effort to name them. Actually, it is hard to name them. Unlike your stepmother and her family, they are more eclectic in their origin. They want me to deliver you to them.”

“And once delivered, they want me to . . .?”

“They didn’t tell me. I believe Admiral Krätz would call this ‘an exercise to be left to the class,’ would he not?”

“No doubt,” Vicky said. “Let’s see. One side wants me dead so they can rob my dad’s Empire blind and put their child on his throne. No doubt sooner rather than later. The other side would likely want my lovely body to use as a banner holder. To wave a flag of rebellion, or some such thing. Let the loyal patriots of Greenfeld rally around a good Peterwald against the bad Peterwald who has been bespelled by the evil witch. Or bitch, either spelling will suffice.”

The admiral shrugged, whether at the joke or the conclusion, he left Vicky to decide.

“And you haven’t decided whose pay to pocket?”

“Oh, I’ve pocketed both sides’ pay. I have it safely deposited in a bank on Bern. Admittedly, depending on what I do, I’ll have to avoid one side or the other. Maybe both. I could end up doing what my orders tell me to. Then won’t I be in a mess,” he said with a hint of a grin.

“Admiral Krätz taught me to ask one question first when I had a hard decision. ‘What was best for the Navy?’ Tell me, Admiral, what is best for the Navy here?”

“That, Lieutenant, is my problem. I can’t decide what’s best for the Navy, or, if I remember Krätz’s full set of questions, what is best for Greenfeld? What do you think, young woman, is best for us all?”

“I don’t think my dying is best for either side, or anyone, except my loving stepmother dearest. And I don’t think you really want what’s best for that bunch of corrupt thieves.”

“That is a problem,” the admiral said, and stood. “Well, enough talk, Lieutenant. You must see to your quarters. I’ve given you the captain’s in-port cabin. Your team also has the cabins on either side of you, though you might want to have some of them sleep in your outer day cabin. I will post Marine guards at your door. I despise the idea of you dying under anyone’s hand but mine. It’s an ‘admiral thing,’ you know.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that you admirals seem very controlling of what goes on in your domain.”

“Did Admiral Krätz really let Kris Longknife send him to war on her plan?” the admiral asked.

“Admiral, you had to be there, watch it develop, to understand how it all came down. I know this sounds unbelievable, but I think the sight of those alien raiders and what they did to the planets they raped really got to the admiral. He truly wanted to run for home. Certainly not get in a fight with them. Then those Hellburners arrived from Wardhaven and suddenly the Longknife Princess had a hammer she could put down hard on the aliens and the other admirals were kind of excited about having one hell of a fight. Admiral Krätz went from ‘let’s go home’ to ‘I’ll lead the charge’ and I don’t think even he knew quite how it happened. That Longknife woman had a plan, and next thing we knew, everyone was following it.”

“Damn those Longknifes. Four good battleships. We’ll really miss them if it comes to a fight.”

“Admiral, review the record. But I was there. Our best battleships didn’t survive longer than a drop of water on a hot greased griddle. I heard Kris say we got lucky that day. We’ll need a whole lot more than luck next time.”

The admiral clearly did not like getting advice from a lieutenant. Certainly not advice that his fleet’s proud battleships were outclassed by a newfound threat.

“You are dismissed,” he growled.

Vicky came to attention, saluted, and left.

V
ICK
Y
stormed into her quarters. In the room, she found the six members of her team waiting for her. Her spaces were identical to those of the admiral. Vicky pointed at the lieutenant. “You, with me,” and then quick-marched for what she assumed was a night cabin.

Fortunately for her pride, she guessed right. It was small, but it had a bed, a desk, and the other necessities. She whirled to meet the lieutenant, who almost collided with her. That made it easier for her to strip off his shipsuit. She saw in his eyes a mixture of emotions she was all too familiar with from the men in her life.

Shock. Terror. Wonder. And enough lust to overcome them all.

He stripped himself out of his underwear while Vicky undressed and leapt onto the bed. He was ready. She spread her legs, and he was atop her in near record time.

He was also spent in near record time.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun,” she growled in his ear. “Now make me feel like I want to feel.” Or at least deaden the pain and fear.

Let me feel something!

He knew what she wanted. This was not the first time she had taken him by storm. It was either him or the chief, and the CPO was older and maybe wiser. The lieutenant had served her needs before.

Today, he failed. It wasn’t that he did anything differently; it was more Vicky’s problem. Every time she closed her eyes to let her passion rise, all she saw was a gunman crashing through the door and a huge pistol aimed between her eyes.

It was hard to let herself sink into the throes of carnal lust when all her teeth wanted to do was chatter with terror.

Finally, she pushed him away. He, however, was all ready for a second go at her. “Put a sock on it,” she snapped.

A
PRESENT HAS ARRIVED FOR YOU,
formed in her head. Y
OU MIGHT WANT TO LOOK AT IT.

Without a thought, she was out of bed and pulling on her shipsuit. Before the lieutenant had managed to get out of bed, she was opening the door.

Doc Maggie had left them. No surprise there.

But there was a surprise. In the middle of the conference table sat a vase full of roses. Her team stood around it. All but Mr. Smith. He eyed it warily . . . from well across the room.

Kit reached for a card prominently placed among the flowers. “It says it’s from a secret admirer. Should I open it and see if the secret is inside?”

“Chief, is that vase safe?” Vicky snapped. All kinds of hormones raced through her blood. This puzzle was not what she wanted. Or needed.

“I think so, Your Grace. My sensors find nothing wrong with it.”

“Mr. Smith?”

“I have nothing to add to the chief’s report. Still . . .”

Yes. Still,
Vicky thought. And did not like the feel of the hairs on the back of her neck. She was talking before she even realized she had made her decision.

“Kit. Take the flowers outside. Put them on the deck well down the passageway.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the servant said, and moved quickly to obey.

The settee, this one black, was against her night quarters bulkhead. She went to sit on it.

Kit returned and came to sit on her right, Kat on her left. The men, three now that the lieutenant had rejoined them, formed a semicircle in front of them, facing the door.

A minute passed. Then another.

Vicky was just beginning to wonder if she had made a fool of herself when the explosion came.

She heard the roar of it, and then felt the overpressure in her ears even through the closed door.

The ship’s alarm went off. Shouting and the pounding of heavy boots announced the arrival of the damage-control party. Lighter footfalls no doubt meant corpsmen and maybe even investigators.

“Kit, open the door and take a look outside.”

Kit moved quickly. The door open, she glanced outside. “There is no fire in the passageway, Your Grace,” she announced. Across the passageway, a Marine still stood his post, though blood flowed from his ear. A sergeant glanced inside. His nose was bleeding, and his eyes looked red.

He saw she was safe and turned away.

“You may close the door, Kit,” Vicky said. She did.

Vicky raised a questioning eyebrow to Mr. Smith.

He shrugged. “It was either very primitive or quite sophisticated. I won’t know which until I have a chance to examine it.”

“We must arrange for you to have that chance,” Vicky said, feeling very imperious for the moment. It was also nice to be alive.

A few minutes later, there came a firm rap on the door. Vicky sent Kat to open it, and Admiral Gort was admitted.

He did not look happy.

“You knew it was a bomb?” he demanded.

“I knew that I have no secret admirers,” Vicky answered. “Mr. Smith, here, suggested that I not take a chance, and I chose not to. I hope it did not cause major damage to your ship.”

“Nothing a new coat of paint can’t handle,” the admiral muttered.

“It would seem, Admiral, that you are not the only one who received pay from outside sources.”

“Yes, it does,” he agreed. “I do not like that. I do not like that at all.”

“My man, Mr. Smith, would like the opportunity to join your investigation into that unpleasant event. It may be that he is better prepared for this kind of event than your good Sailors are.”

The admiral eyed Mr. Smith, then nodded. “It seems that we are playing in a game where good sailormen are at a disadvantage. I would appreciate help from any source.”

“My lieutenant and chief have received some training and extra equipment from Kris Longknife’s security experts as well. That was the real reason I ended up on the
Wasp
when we went to war. If you don’t mind, I’d like all three to help your investigation.”

The admiral turned to Mr. Smith. “You have my leave to do anything you feel necessary to get to the bottom of this.”

Mr. Smith nodded at his assignment, made eye contact with the two Navy members of Vicky’s team, and motioned them toward the door. The chief went to gather his gear, and the three of them left together.

“I’m assuming that you find this bomb aboard your ship as unacceptable as I find it,” Vicky said with an arched eyebrow.

“Yes, Your Grace. I expect my orders to be obeyed quickly and completely. I object strongly to anyone else’s orders taking precedence over mine.”

“Has this helped you resolve the decision we talked about earlier?” Vicky asked, playing with the zipper on her shipsuit.

“I believe it has. And thank you for the offer, but you are a lieutenant, and I am an admiral. That alone establishes standards for our relationship.”

Vicky took her hand away from the zipper. “I fully understand, Admiral. Admiral Krätz introduced me to the Navy’s standards of behavior, and I am only too happy to comply with the professional standards of the Navy’s proud tradition.”

“I’m glad we understand each other. Supper will be served in my wardroom at 1900 hours. I hope you and your team will join me.”

“We would be honored, sir. What is the uniform of the day?”

“Undress whites,” the admiral said, giving her a firm look.

“I will be proud to wear them, sir.”

Done, he turned on his heels and marched out.

“Kit, Kat, we all need undress whites for dinner tonight. Check my gear. If we don’t have smart uniforms, Kat, draw some from the ship’s stores.”

That set the two women to furious activity. Vicky stayed on the settee, thinking.

It appeared that she had eliminated one threat to her life, and indeed, turned him into an ally. Whoever had made the bomb attempt had been a fool. Not only had they missed, but they had cemented the Navy to Vicky. There would be no more talk of the battle squadron she had lost, not with Admiral Gort. No, someone had tried to take his prerogatives from him.

That held his full attention.

Vicky marveled at how little the civilian world understood the military. What to one side was just a good double check on a business deal, to the other was a violation of their honor and hard-earned rights of seniority.

Someday she would have to thank her dad for sending her to the fleet for her training.

Poor brother. He had thought he could transfer into the Navy and apply his freshly learned business skills to running a fleet. And he might have gotten away with it if he hadn’t run up against Kris Longknife.

Vicky sighed. She was headed back into that nest of snakes now officially known as the Imperial Palace. Clearly, her Navy training would be of little use in that poisoned atmosphere.

Here was a lesson for her to learn and apply. That something worked in one time and place was no guarantee that it would work in another. This might keep her breathing long enough to find some safe port in this stormy sea.

But where is that safe port?

Should she suggest to the admiral that he take his other bribe? Was she ready to raise a flag of rebellion against her own dad?

Over supper, she would suggest to the admiral that he hold his ships to a single gee of acceleration. That would give her more time to weigh her options. That would also give her time to gather data. Greenfeld was never an easy place to understand. Lies were more often the only truth available. Still, the Navy must have sources it relied upon.

Yes, she would ask the admiral to admit her to those reports he had alluded to. If Admiral Krätz had been reporting on her, certainly other reports were coming in from wherever the fleet was located. Reports for Navy eyes only would not spin or hide the harsh truths of what was happening to the Greenfeld they all loved.

Mr. Smith returned, though the lieutenant and chief stayed with the ship’s investigative team. “The bomb,” he reported, “was both very simple and very sophisticated.”

“Explain yourself,” Vicky snapped, in no mood for puzzles.

“The explosives were C-16, hidden in the stems of the flowers, dipped in nonvolatile plastic so that there was no degassing from the chemicals. Standard issue in some circles these days. The vase, by the way, had been scarred on the inside, so when the explosives blew, it shattered into a thousand shards with dagger edges. The detonator was simplicity itself. The special paper was designed so that when you removed the letter from the envelope, it would create enough static electricity to activate one detonator. No battery. No wires. Alternately, another detonator was immersion in water and would, over time, as it actually happened, oxidize and provide the charge that set it off. It was so very simple, no electronics for us to spot. My hat is off to the expert who did this.”

“And will we find that expert?”

“Maybe. Very likely not. The others are doing the scut work, looking for fingerprints, anything left that might lead us to where the bomb was assembled. I don’t need to be involved with that. You and the admiral will have a report by morning. I’ll review the findings and see if they overlooked anything.”

“Good,” Vicky said. “Now, I have an hour before we all must dress for dinner. Won’t you step into my boudoir? I’m sure we can find more to discuss.”

Mr. Smith only smiled as she played with the top of her zipper. “Don’t mind if I do, ma’am.”

Mr. Smith proved to be extraordinarily skilled at whatever he applied himself to. After half an hour, Vicky was confident that he would earn his paycheck from her in many pleasant ways.