Rogue(38)

I trod lightly so as not to shake the poor bastard. I looked above him.

The team intended to follow him had never made it. As they blew that hole down, Randall’s explosives had blown up. I guessed the frag as razor blades and molecular wire debris. Through the entry hole, I could see two of them tossed and dead. The bottom third of those men was ground meat.

The whole place smelled as if someone had cut loose with explosives in a slaughterhouse which, in effect, he had.

Malcolm looked stunned and traumatized just by the emotional overload.

I said, “You figure you know how to handle one old troop gone bad, eh?”

He gasped for breath and words, finally strangled out, “How did you know?”

“Because it’s what I would have done.”

I walked off in disgust.

I realized then that I’d leaned well into the room. Luckily, that moaning, impaled thing had not been intended as bait for more. Apparently, Randall lacked the real killer instinct some of us have. Either that, or he’d been pressed for time.

I was downstairs and outside before Malcolm caught up.

He shouted, “Wait, you! You don’t just get to walk out of here after my constables died.”

I said, “I wanted to talk to him, and take the risk myself, of deescalating. Now I have to chase him.”

“The bloody hell you will on my planet.”

My only excuse is that I’d shifted into combat mode. Randall was nearby, and could easily kill more. If he saw me, he’d be smart to shoot me at once. I had nerves like naked wires a meter out from my skin, feeling for any hint of danger . . . and Malcolm grabbed my arm.

I disentangled, pulled, pushed and he staggered and sprawled.

At that point, things got much worse, because I didn’t want to fight his nervous, trigger-on-finger constables; running would create visibility and a scene; and standing still meant I could still get shot by Randall.

I decided I was safest surrounded by arresting officers. Within a local hour, I was back in the hoosegow, charged with assault, battery, resisting arrest, hindering an investigation, conspiracy and probably obscene acts with kittens. Luckily, Silver was observing and had bail ready, in cash, before they even processed me.

It would have helped, if there hadn’t been a stop order on my release, from far up the food chain.

Another hour, as Randall fled and was probably unfindable at this point, I was escorted by plain uniformed men, all almost exactly one hundred ninety centimeters tall, with firm builds. The only uniform was plain blue coats with clipped-on badges and no other marks. I thought I knew what that meant.

It didn’t seem possible, and was either very good or very bad. We entered a van with no windows. I wasn’t restrained. I saw no reason to evade in the midst of traffic, though, with these men around me.

I was invited out of the vehicle. That put us in a bay that led to a corridor with lovely lighting and fine carpets, then inside a cozy, wood-paneled office with a carved desk. The woman behind it wore a plain, elegant suit to match her elegant hair and features.

“What exactly is your rank at this point, Operative Chinran?” she asked.

I did the only thing I could. I bowed enough to be polite, and said, “Thank you for seeing me, Your Majesty.”

The House Guards left, except for one in the corner. He barely betrayed nervousness at my presence.

Annette had been Crown Princess the three times we’d met, first at a dinner followed by a diplomatic intel téte a téte, later after she was taken hostage and I and some of my goons blew up everything around her and barely chipped one of her teeth, in the process of killing the kidnappers. Her mother had died five years ago, now.

“Please sit,” she said, polite even when angry.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said. I really didn’t want to be here, but it might be useful, and I had to be diplomatic. I went with the program.

“You’re stalking one of your own, loose on my planet, and I don’t even get a courtesy note from your ambassador?” she asked, sounding miffed but reasonable, for now.

“The ambassador doesn’t know, ma’am, and we’d much prefer to keep it that way.”

That raised her eyebrows.

“I see,” she said, and leaned back while taking a sip of tea. She waved a hand in offer, and I nodded and poured myself a cup. No servants for this matter, and I wouldn’t insult her bodyguard by expecting him to. I’d be disgusted if he agreed.

“Ma’am, I can’t tell you much more than you already know. Someone is loose. Very dangerous. I have to stop them. No one can know. Any leaks will only hurt my efforts, not them.”

“I suppose that makes sense, and I’ll help you with that matter. You do realize this is an international, intersystem incident, of course.”