CHAPTER 51
As catastrophes go, this one is
fairly dire.
“Warn the others,” I
mutter to Constance.
I honestly thought we
were being held indefinitely. I didn’t think there was any such
person named Jewel, and if there was, based on what Grubb and Boyle
said, he had no intention of meeting with me. We didn’t factor this
eventuality into the plan. And we’re just forty-five minutes from
departure, too.
I try to calm down.
The others will figure out a way around this. Nobody will interfere
with a pleasure droid roaming the halls, so she’ll get word to
them. I just need to stall for time.
When I come out into
the pale, cool corridor, I find Keller waiting for me. “Did you
enjoy your party?”
There’s definitely an
upside to being portrayed as a brainless thrillseeker on the news
vids. Generally, my reputation works against me, but here, it
serves us well.
“Very much.” I offer
a sweet smile. “You should have come along.”
“Unfortunately,
business arose from my employer’s imminent arrival. You’ll wait in
the central salon.”
Right. That shuts me up as nothing else could have.
Instead I listen to our footsteps echoing ahead of us. All too
soon, Keller deposits me in a large, overly empty lounge, complete
with ornate floral arrangements and a rushing fountain in the
center of the room. The chairs grouped here and there look stiff
and formal, more for show than comfort.
“Would you like
refreshments?” Keller asks, suddenly obsequious. “It shouldn’t be
long now.”
I feel oddly like the
prisoner whose last request cannot be denied. So I refuse
everything and elect to remain standing. I’d rather be ready to
run.
Keller nods, heading
for a hallway other than the one we entered through. I wander the
room while trying to pretend I’m not conscious of the minutes
ticking away. I hope Constance has gotten word to the others by
now.
I don’t hear any
footsteps beneath the rushing fountain, but I sense I have company.
Pinning on a smile, I turn— and find my mother standing there.
Shit. I didn’t see that coming.
“They’re holding you,
too? Are you all right?” I’m not the most dutiful daughter, I
admit, but we’ll take her with us when we go.
As she glides closer,
I see she looks different than she did at the coffeehouse. She
carries herself with an indefinable air of confidence down to her
perfectly manicured fingertips. Today she’s not a trembling bundle
of nerves, fearing for her life. Ramona Jax lent me my bone
structure, but she fills out a dress better than I do. Rejuvenex
treatments have left her smooth-skinned and ageless.
“I’m surprised you
haven’t put it together,” she says with a faint half smile.
“Put . . .” And then
it clicks. “You’re Jewel. There’s no man behind the mirror, or
rather . . . he is you. How the
hell—”
“Did you think your
father’s pathetic little art gallery funded our lifestyle?
Honestly, Sirantha, sometimes I think you’re more his child than
mine. If I didn’t know you’d gotten your need for adrenaline from
me, I’d suspect the worst.”
She’s good, amazingly
good, if she fooled March. Maybe she’s like me, completely
compartmentalized— maybe that’s where I got the ability. So she can
be the terrified victim one moment and a ruthless Syndicate boss
the next.
I don’t even know
what to ask first. No wonder Jewel didn’t want me harmed. Whatever
else can be said of my mother, she possesses enough vanity not to
want to erase her own genetic legacy.
Unless she has to.
Looking at her now, I
can honestly say I’ve never seen her true face before. She’s only
ever shown me the feather-headed socialite. But in reality, she’s
pure steel wrapped in shiny paper.
“What do you mean, I
got that from you?”
“I always wanted
more, too,” she answers. “I was always after the next thrill; I
just hid it better, that’s all. I still can’t believe I convinced
your father to . . .” Ramona lifts her shoulders in an eloquent
shrug. “During a jump. It’s no wonder you love grimspace so
well.”
I actually stagger
back a step. “I was . . . conceived in grimspace?”
As if I haven’t
spoken, she bypasses me in a cloud of expensive perfume,
programming a serving droid with a drink order. “Do you still like
that dreadful Tokaji Cuvée?”
Fine, I’ll pretend
this is a reunion. For now. My head reels with the implications.
It’s a wonder I’m not brain damaged, if that’s where I got my
start. Mary, Doc would have a field day with this info.
“I haven’t had it in
years, too dear for my blood these days.”
“Come, darling, don’t
be coy. You’ve done quite well for yourself, considering the
initial course you chose.”
Knowing this will irk
her, I say deliberately, “I don’t have a single credit to my name,
Mother. Simon managed to snatch it all, and now my personal assets
are tied up in the Farwan financial debacle.”
She dismisses that
with a wave of the hand. “Nothing a good barrister can’t sort out.
I meant in terms of prestige, Sirantha. I have use for an
ambassador.”
“I’m not going to let
you use me,” I bite out. “Those days are done. They have been for a
while.”
The bot returns with
our drinks, its abdomen opening to reveal a silver tray. I accept
mine, but I don’t know if I should drink it. Would she stoop to
drugging me? I honestly don’t know.
I hold the glass to
the light, admiring the burnished gold of a good sweet wine. I
spoke the truth—haven’t had this vintage in years—made from grapes,
raisins, peach, apricot, and underlaid with eucalyptus. Everything
I drink is either synthetic or some horrendous homebrew that burns
like acid going down. Gets you drunk just the same, though, which
was my goal back then.
“It’s not tainted,”
she says. “I don’t need to resort to such measures. After all, I
have you precisely where I want you.”
“Do you?”
“Indeed. Or perhaps
you think you’ve accomplished something by sneaking around the
villa, lurking here and there like common criminals.”
“It’s better to be an
uncommon criminal like you?”
“I’m a
businesswoman,” she says with unruffled aplomb. “You distressed
your father so much, you know, when you left that expensive
finishing school. He wanted you to follow in his footsteps and
manage the gallery after him. As if he ever earned a single credit
without my help.”
“You came from a good
family.” I’m struggling to understand. “How did you fall into . . .
this?”
I can’t imagine the
things she’s done for the Syndicate. Don’t want to. Her dark eyes
have no bottom, and to my fevered imagination, it seems . . . no
soul. No moral compass that tells her right from wrong. There’s a
calculator instead, measuring value versus expenditure.
“I made a few
investments with them, quietly, of course, and without your
father’s knowledge. He never would’ve approved.”
Outrage sharpens my
voice. “You think? Maybe that’s because he had a conscience, and he
wouldn’t have wanted to spend credits that came from misery, vice,
and murder.”
“He didn’t mind
spending my money on ugly, expensive paintings that nobody ever
bought,” she snaps. “He had no business or aesthetic sense at
all.”
Oh, I hit a nerve
with that. For a moment, I let myself enjoy the sensation. She
doesn’t hold all the cards like she thinks she does. Our little
group possesses skills she can’t imagine.
Nausea sweeps over me
when I put it together. “You killed him. Or had him killed. And
then put out word that he’d used a Eutha-booth.”
She doesn’t even try
to deny it. “His little hobby was expensive and tiresome. And with
the expansion to my territory, I needed the freedom to come and go
without awkward questions.”
“After so many years
together, that’s all he was to you? Awkward, expensive, and
tiresome?”
I’m gazing into the
eyes of a monster. I can’t let down my guard—the fact that she’s my
mother provides no guarantees. I know that now.
“Your father was
obsolete,” she says in final tones.
Like machinery.
I tuck this new hurt
away with all the others, to be dealt with later. If I don’t get
away from her, there will be no later. She’ll figure out some way
to use me, or she’ll dispose of me. For her, there are no other
options. She prefers the former, but she won’t balk at the
latter.
“Well, if you’d kill
him, of course you wouldn’t hesitate to
start a war.” I sound calm, much calmer than I feel. “You really
don’t care that thousands of people will die? Do you know what the
bodies look like after a Morgut attack?”
“I’m told it’s quite
painless,” she assures me. “The first bite injects a neurotoxin
that blocks the nerve endings, resulting in paralysis.”
“And there’s money to
be made. Weapons to sell. Private security contracts.” I test our
theories to see how close we came to the truth.
“At least you sorted
out what, if not who. You’re a bright girl, Sirantha.”
I wonder if she had
anything to do with the assassination attempt on New Terra. “Did
you blow up my Skimmer? What happened, you thought better of trying
to use me after we had coffee?”
Ramona shakes her
head. “That was a simple misunderstanding. I disciplined the person
involved in the error.”
“How many pieces did
he end up in?”
“Twelve.” And I don’t
think she’s joking. “I’m sorry my men broke into your quarters.
They seemed to think I wanted you terrorized for some reason, as if
fear ever governs women like us.” She laughs lightly.
I hate that she lumps me in with her. If this is how
she runs things, I bet she doesn’t pay much in pensions. It also
explains Keller’s handling of the poor bastard who fucked up in the
nav chair. Thank Mary, that had nothing to do with me.
“You’re one scary
bitch,” I say, shaking my head. “I had no idea.”
“You still don’t.”
She tips back her head and drains her drink. “For instance . . .
I’m having your crew killed as we speak.”
I turn for the door,
draw up short at the sound of laser fire. Unless they changed plans
after Constance got to them—if she
did—they’re all gathered together, waiting for me.
Shit.
She smiles. “In fact,
they might already be dead.”
