Virtues of War (25 page)

“What do you suggest we do?”

Merje fixed him with her gaze. “I’m going to do some serious digging first, to try to find some dirt on this woman.” She gestured toward her screen, indicating that she meant to begin immediately. “If you want to stay and help, it might go faster.”

Katja sighed, dropping her head into her hands.

“Please not today,” she said. “I have a splitting headache. I’m supposed to be meeting up with some people later, and I need to have a nap first.”

Merje gave Thomas a conspiratorial smile, and slipped off the desk. She knelt down beside Katja and put her arm around her.

“Okay, not today,” she said. “And you better get some good sleep tonight, because our favorite family member’s arriving tomorrow.”

Katja muttered a string of words in what Thomas assumed was her native Finnish. They had to be expletives.

Merje kissed her on the head.

“It’ll be okay, honey,” she said. “I promise I’ll even stay with you for the entire meal. How long can lunch last, anyway?”

Suddenly Thomas felt like he was intruding. He made to rise, but Merje motioned for him to stay.

“Thomas can help me get started today,” she continued, “and then maybe tomorrow or the next day, I’ll have some lines of enquiry you can help me with.”

Katja nodded. She gave Merje’s arm a squeeze then pushed herself up from the chair. She turned to Thomas.

“Thanks for calling,” she said. “I needed to get out, and it was really nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.” He wanted to hug her, to tell her everything was going to be okay, but he refrained. This was a warrior, he reminded himself, and she didn’t need protecting. “I’ll call you soon.” He watched her disappear into the corridor, then turned back to Merje.

She was watching him intently.

“So, my lovely,” she said, “are you going to tell me the whole truth?”

Uh-oh.
Suddenly he realized just how good she was at her job. He motioned for her to retake her seat, and pulled his chair over.

“I assume it’s your father who’s coming to visit?”

She rolled her eyes, then reached into one of the drawers. To his surprise, she pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers.

“I hope Katja doesn’t have anything to drink tonight,” she said, “because she gets stupid when she drinks. Me, I intend to stay buzzed from now until that bastard leaves town.”

He watched as she made two generous pours. “How long is he in town for?”

“A couple of weeks.” She looked up through long eyelashes as she sipped the amber liquid. “Apparently the Army is doing some ceremonial thing, in conjunction with the Astral Force. All part of the propaganda to make everyone feel good about Terra again.”

That explains it
, he mused. A call had come in for volunteers from the non-active ships. Since the
Armstrong
was engaged in a mission, he hadn’t concerned himself with it.

“I wonder if we could get Katja assigned to that?” he suggested. “It might keep her busy.”

Merje barked a laugh. “I’d just love to see my father’s face when he stood at attention on a parade square, and had to take orders from Katty.” She took another sip. “Honestly, I’d pay money for that.”

Thomas smiled. “Does anyone else besides family call her Katty?” he asked. “It’s endearing.”

That look again. Merje shrugged.

“I doubt it—maybe her old artsy friends. You know, she was a lot more fun ten years ago.”

“A military life can harden a person, especially after what she’s been through.”

“When was the last time she had a nice, stiff one in her?”

Thomas nearly choked on his drink. “I don’t know.” Coughing, he cleared his throat. “You two are cut from a different cloth, I see.”

“You might say that.” She smiled slightly. “She was always the good one.”

Time to change the subject.

“Okay, so back to the case at hand,” he said quickly. “What kind of things should we look for?”

“We can start with the whole truth,” Merje said, glancing at her smart board. “Are you going to give it, or not?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “What would you like to know?”

“Did you sleep with her?”

Thomas dipped his head to rub his eyes. He should have known this would happen. He sighed, realizing that Merje needed to be fully armed with the facts.

“Yes.”

Merje nodded, and drew a line on her board between Thomas and Breeze. “Okay, that may be our greatest weakness, seeing as how you’re married and all.” She tapped his wedding ring with her pen. “But it might hurt Breeze, too. She isn’t married, is she?”

He suddenly realized who Merje was talking about. He’d narrowly dodged a bullet.

“No,” he said, “but I think she’s dating Chuck Merriman’s cameraman.”

“Really. What’s his name?”

Thomas thought back to the interview session in
Armstrong
. There had been a few subtle exchanges between the fellow and Breeze, but mostly he’d stayed in the background.

“I don’t know, actually. He’s African.”

“Well,
that
certainly helps.” Merje gave him a withering glance. “There’s only half a billion of them—narrows it down considerably.”

He felt his cheeks burn. “I’ll call Chuck and find out.”

“Good idea.”

* * *

As the afternoon wore on, Thomas came to truly admire Merje’s ability. She had quite a knack for uncovering dirt. For the moment everything they had was based on rumor, yet he began to feel more confident.

He also began to notice more and more similarities between the sisters. Their hair was the same color, and with Merje’s behind her shoulders it didn’t look much longer than Katja’s new, civilian style. Her hands were tiny as she scribbled notes on her smart board, and her expressions were like those Katja made when she relaxed.

Her voice had the same hint of an accent that gave Katja a certain allure, and while she didn’t drop as many f-bombs as her trooper sibling, Merje was anything but a prude. She was, Thomas decided, what Katja could be if she wanted to be. Fun, smart, beautiful and confident.

As he reached for his tumbler again—it never seemed to empty, no matter how hard he tried—he made a note to get Katja drunk as soon as he could. He wanted to see more of this sort of Emmes.

Finally, Merje tossed down her pen and sat back.

“I have to take a break. Want something to eat?”

Thomas nodded. He wasn’t sure how much whiskey he’d consumed, but he agreed that a little food would be a good idea. It was still a few hours until Soma would be finished at the spa. At this rate, he’d fit right in with her and her friends at the club.

Merje called someone and ordered a refreshments tray for two. Then she put the bottle and the tumblers back in her drawer.

“Look sober,” she said with a wink.

A few minutes later the food was delivered by a handsome young man in a suit. He cleared away Merje’s lunch tray and set down the offering of fruits, cheese, and crackers. Merje stood with more confidence than Thomas would have expected, and walked him to the door. She made some flattering comment about his delivery technique, and that made him laugh. Then she shut the door with a flourish, turned, and walked back toward him.

Right at him, in fact. She reached his chair and leaned her hands on his armrests.

“These heels are killing me.”

As her long, blonde hair fell forward past her face, she crouched down to pull her shoes off. In so doing, she brushed against his bare knees. When she looked up again, a few inches from his face, hair falling straight past her fine features, she gave him a very small smile.

He could feel his heart thumping in his chest. For just a moment he pretended it was Katja leaning over him, so sensual and seductive. In that moment his drunken hand reached out to caress the warm, smooth body in front of him.

She leaned in and kissed him, her warm lips firm against his. He felt a tiny hand slide up his chest and neck to caress his head. He felt the blouse loosen as his own hands pulled the silk free, felt the smooth, soft skin underneath.

“I figured you were that kind of man.” She nibbled at his ear and whispered as she began to unbutton his shorts. “I’m glad you didn’t disappoint.”

He pushed up to his feet, tracing her high cheeks with his lips, down to the slender neck and shoulders. Clothes began to come off. Her body was thin and willowy, not as muscular as he remembered Katja’s, but she was hot and willing, and close enough.

As she drifted down to her knees he closed his eyes, remembering back to that dark cabin, somewhere in the Sirian blackness. He gasped in pleasure, fantasizing about this new, experienced Katja. He ran his hands through her blonde hair, thinking of her dark, luminous eyes as she’d looked up at him in the dark cabin with such admiration.

When they went down to the floor he explored her white skin, tasted her small, round breasts. She moaned freely, digging her nails into his back. Then she pushed him onto his back, straddling him with a long, smoldering stare of anticipation. Her hair fell across his face, but he could still picture her features as she enveloped him and began to rock.

For a moment she lowered her face down to his, and he stared into Merje’s fierce, blue eyes, but as he pulled her into a passionate kiss he held her hot body against him, grabbed her small, tight butt and thrust upward.

As the moment approached, he knew just enough not to shout her name, and as he bore down and gritted his teeth with pleasure, a single thought consumed him.

Katja.

The evening winds were warm and dry, and Breeze enjoyed their caress over her silk clothes. She’d been enjoying the sunset over Lake Sapphire, idly watching the pedestrians on the boardwalk, and suddenly she realized just how happy she was. Not content, not merely satisfied, but truly happy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way.

Everything in her professional life was coming together nicely. She’d secured a powerful patron in Admiral Chandler, and she was confident she understood his ego well enough now to know how to properly manipulate him. She had that letch Admiral Bush on a short enough leash that he could ensure that her Dark Bomb project got the proper support. She had to admit, as well, that having Thomas Kane aboard the
Armstrong
was proving to be advantageous. He brought some much-needed competence to the science team.

Unfortunately her deadline set by the Fleet Marshall was getting closer. She might have to take Thomas down before the Dark Bomb research was complete. Even so, it was all in a day’s work.

She took a last deep breath of the warm air and turned away from the twilight vista. Heading back into her apartment, she began to set the mood for the evening. Lights were dimmed, fireplace ignited, table set. It wasn’t often she prepared a complete meal from scratch, but her childhood in France hadn’t been completely wasted, and this evening’s meal was
coq au vin
—one of her specialties.

Breeze decanted the wine and briefly considered the choice of music. He liked jazz, she knew, and she selected the works of a newish band that specialized in the old school, with none of the fusion elements so common in the modern music scene. He’d like her choice, she was sure.

The chime sounded, announcing his arrival in the lobby downstairs. Breeze actually felt a bit of thrill ripple through her—when was the last time that had happened?—and activated the music. One last check in the mirror and she took her position near the dining table. Easily visible when he entered, but distant enough so as not to appear eager.

He didn’t even knock. The door slid open and there he was, athletic frame filling the doorway, draped in Jovian-style clothes that seemed as if they’d been made just for him. His dark face was lit up by a sparkle in his eyes that overshone his usual expression of cool nonchalance. He was happy to be here, she could tell, and that made her heart flutter anew. He stepped into the condo, door sliding shut behind him.

“My dear, you’ve outdone yourself again.”

“I’m glad you’re so easily impressed.” She fought to keep her grin reduced to a smirk as she walked slowly over to wrap her arms around his shoulders. “Maybe I’ll hold back on what else I had planned for this evening.”

A smile spread across his features. “Don’t hold back because of me. I’ll try to keep up.”

“If you say so.” She pulled herself against him, planting a passionate kiss on his soft lips. She loved the feel of his muscled body, of his powerful arms holding her in an embrace. His physical presence was intoxicating: it took a considerable force of will not to jump straight to the evening’s finale. Reluctantly she pulled back, still resting her hands on his shoulders.

“Have a seat, Kit. I have a new wine I think you might like.”

His hands lingered hungrily, but he kept his mask of easy confidence in place as he slipped away from her and headed for the couch.

“I’m intrigued,” he said. “I thought we’d already tried all the good wines there were. You haven’t gone off-world for this one, have you?”

She scoffed. “Like any grape could grow well in recycled air. No, my dear, I think you’ll be amazed at just how many good wines come out of France.”

He sat down, looking her over with a wry expression.

“No doubt a significant part of your education was devoted to learning them all.”

“My unofficial education, for sure,” she admitted, handing him a glass and holding up her own. “A girl needs a break from studying architecture and art. Surely you experimented a bit as well?”

He took a long sniff of the wine, swirling it expertly and taking the most delicate of sips. He nodded his appreciation, although his expression hardened slightly.

“Much better than the homemade beer we traded our food coupons for.”

A witty retort died in her throat. Kit spoke so rarely of his youth as an orphan. He was so unlike what she would have expected, coming from West Africa thirty some years ago. The fact that he’d survived at all, let alone escaped and turned himself into such a success, made him that much more remarkable.

“Thank goodness those days are behind us all,” she said seriously.