The Rule of Luck, page 10
“As you wish. The transfer will begin once I disconnect. Your transportation will arrive at your home sharply at ten-thirty a.m. local time.” His eyes darted off to the side before he returned to neutral face. “And, Ms. Sevigny, I have been asked to wish you a good night’s rest.”
I sat up. Was Petriv out of sight feeding Karol his lines? A ridiculous warmth spread through me. It was wrong and I should be doing everything in my power to prevent myself from feeling it, and yet the kick in my gut said otherwise. Still, I did swallow the grin that threatened to make an appearance.
“Thank you, Karol. Tell Mr. Petriv I wish him a good night as well.”
* * *
I didn’t have a good night’s rest at all. Karol was right—if I’d had the t-mods, I could have dumped the files into my head and absorbed the information in a nanosecond. Now I had to rely on my fallible human memory. Not for the first time I cursed my family and their aversion to the technological modifications the rest of the world embraced.
I focused on my mother first. I had to hand it to Petriv; his data was thorough. It detailed her childhood, her impressive education, her Career Design path, her initial research projects, then her employment with TransWorld. Petriv’s data also included a One Gov–issued certificate of marriage, as well as photos of the actual event. Hell, it even contained one of my baby pictures. After that, everything career-related stopped, presumably because TransWorld owned her research.
The material showed that she was a native Brazilian of Old World descent. Her family resided in Rio and seemed to be extremely wealthy. There was a vague One Gov connection, though the file didn’t elaborate on its exact nature. They were a sharp contrast to the unorthodox world in which I’d grown up. Raised by my great-grandmother and grandmother on my father’s side, and surrounded by dozens of cousins and family friends, I’d been happy but poor. It wasn’t until I grew older that I realized that without t-mods or any sort of MH Factor, we were second-class citizens. I frowned. What would my life have been like if I’d been a part of my mother’s family? I wondered if they knew about my existence or if I would ever get a chance to meet them. Or maybe it would be better to remain ignorant. After all, you couldn’t miss something you didn’t know existed. Except now that I knew they existed, part of me did want to know.
The file also didn’t contain much information on my mother’s assistant either. If I was supposed to discredit him, shouldn’t I know something about him? Yet there was no picture and not much in the way of a write-up. I’d have to ask about that the next time I saw Petriv. Either that, or just wing it.
Otherwise, everything seemed in order and I sifted through the remaining data while gobbling my dinner—a handful of crackers and cheese—then spent several hours throwing everything I thought I’d need into two suitcases. Natty stopped by with Granny G’s Tarot cards. If I wanted to look impressive at the auction, they were what I needed. Stunningly ornate, they were large enough that shuffling posed a challenge. I’d practiced a long time to manage the feat. If I ever dropped them in front of a client, I suspected Granny G would find a way to reach from beyond the grave and smack me. Their backs were a rich ebony showing a cross-section of the Milky Way and displaying a spinning void known to hypnotize the unaware. The faces were hand-painted with an assortment of knights, princesses, and wizards from a time when courtly love influenced the known world. The colors were as vibrant and rich as if they’d been painted yesterday. Tech did that: I renewed the pigments with a nano-dip every year. It also prevented them from getting moldy and worn.
When Natty dropped off the cards, she hovered in the doorway, wringing her hands. Typically fresh-faced and bright-eyed, she looked frazzled. Though she had the thin build and dark skin of a native Kenyan, I could see the Middle Eastern features of her mixed heritage. When I first met her, she’d been eighteen and floundering through the first year of her mandatory Career Design program. Based on One Gov’s assessment criteria, it was determined that her path lay in drafting arts—meaning she’d work in a government subsidized position at the local engineering institute. Unfortunately, she wanted to cook. She even brought her efforts into the shop at least once a week. It was probably lucky we’d found each other as I’m not sure what might have happened to her otherwise.
She came to my shop one day asking for a reading. Apparently she’d been placed on academic probation for manipulating her test results, hoping to be rerouted to cooking arts instead. When she couldn’t pay my reading fee, I told her to come back with a tray of home-baked brownies instead. Her desire to buck the system echoed my own situation, and I couldn’t help but empathize. To be honest, I fully expected to never see her again. Instead, she brought me brownies the next day. With minimal prodding from my gut, I hired her on the spot. I needed someone to file paperwork and she needed somewhere to test her creations: a perfect fit.
“Did Mr. Zero tell you about the pegs that came by the office?” she asked. “Both big, scary guys. Skin like yours, but darker…like coffee with cream, maybe. They had accents. English wasn’t their first language, but neither was Swahili or Sheng. It sounded all pretty and flowery, with lots of rolling r’s.”
“Yes, Charlie mentioned it. He said they worried you.” Rolling r’s? I thought of my long-lost mom, living in Brazil. Maybe they spoke Portuguese. Also, what were the chances of two men from Brazil looking for me on the same day I learned my mother was alive? I didn’t need cards to figure that one out. “What did they want?”
“They asked questions about you. Where you were. When I saw you last. If you were with anyone. I got nervous. They were hella big. I told them to contact Mr. Zero if they wanted to know more.”
“Smart idea. Charlie can talk circles around all of us. Don’t worry about it. Take two weeks off and I’ll see you after your cruise.”
Her eyes went wide. “You were really serious? Mr. Zero said you had a big client, but I didn’t know how big.”
Then she was off, describing the cruise in detail. As she rambled, I had a thought. Did Roy know about my Brazilian admirers? Maybe they’d paid him a visit as well. It would explain his erratic behavior. If so, why hadn’t he said anything? I sighed, knowing I’d have to save those questions until I saw him again. In the meantime, maybe Petriv had information that could clear up the mystery. Natty hugged me good-bye, and I resumed packing and learning my itinerary.
Ten thirty found me at the best I could manage with next-to-no sleep. I’d taken extra care getting ready, determined to make up for how grubby I’d looked the last time I saw Petriv. I wasn’t the sort of a woman who wore the same clothes days at a time or spent my nights in jail. Though, who was I kidding, really? I wanted to look good for Petriv, end of story. I wore a red tailored suit, slit cut clear to my hip, and spike-heeled knee boots. My makeup was perfect, and I’d even coaxed my mass of hair into a slicked-back low ponytail. Not the most comfortable traveling outfit, but I knew I looked hot. Petriv wasn’t going to catch me unprepared and vulnerable today. I always felt invincible in my red suit, and I was certainly a far cry from the mess Petriv bailed out of the pit. Unfortunately, the prep work left me no time to offer a formal prayer of safety and deliverance. I made due with lighting an incense stick, whispering a few prayers, and crossing my fingers. After the Dark Times, religion of all kinds had gone on the upswing, and it didn’t hurt to cover all my bases.
The building AI pinged my bracelet at exactly ten thirty. I couldn’t stop the shiver of both anticipation and near dread as I let them in. A light knock sounded against the door. I fought to keep my breathing even. I wasn’t going to fall at Petriv’s feet. Sure, I wanted him and yesterday had blown my mind, but there was no way in hell I was going to repeat it.
Opening the door wide, I got an eyeful of chain-breaker. Four to be exact, overly muscled and neck-kinkingly tall. They were so identical in dress, features, and coloring, I couldn’t tell one from the other. Standing in their midst, not quite as tall but certainly as impressively built, was Alexei Petriv. He wore a dark suit that seemed to blend into his black hair, and an ice-blue shirt that matched his eyes. He looked good. Too good. When he smiled and hit me with those startling blue eyes, I suspected I was in for trouble.
“I could have met you in the lobby. Still, I’m glad you’re here,” I said with a wave to my suitcases. “I could use a hand.”
“I wanted to see where you live,” Petriv answered, stepping inside. The chain-breakers flowed around him, enveloping me in the same human shield as he approached. A quick exchange of Russian, then, “My men have asked permission to scan you for weapons. It’s their job and they’re paid well to do so. I try not to get in their way if I can help it. I promise it will be noninvasive.”
So we were back to business then. Good. I could handle that. “Go ahead.”
One of the chain-breakers, the brown-haired one, removed a tiny gray marble from his suit jacket. It emitted a high-pitched hum. He held it a few inches above my body, my suitcases, and then the small travel case I used for my Tarot cards. The marble hummed and pinged as it read both me and the luggage.
“Nyet,” he said.
Even I knew what that meant. I arched an eyebrow at Petriv. He shrugged. “In some respects, my life is not my own.” Then he brushed by me, chain-breakers following in his wake. I caught the musky scent of his cologne, and while I didn’t swoon, part of me wanted to.
“Um…what do you think you’re doing?”
“As I said, I want to see your home.”
He looked around the condo, taking in the decor as he moved from room to room. I trailed behind as if he were giving me a tour of his home, not the other way round. It was…odd. The scorch mark on the wall was noticed, without comment. When he entered the bedroom he spent a long moment looking at the bed. I could feel myself blush, more so when he cast an inscrutable glance at me before exiting. I wanted to ask the reason for it, but he’d moved on and I lost the opportunity. Besides, I wasn’t sure I truly wanted to know what he was thinking.
“Very different from your shop,” he said eventually. “You live here with your boyfriend?”
“Yes. It will be a year together this June.” It came out more defensively than intended. “Shouldn’t we get going? Don’t we have to catch a flight or something?”
Petriv looked down at my suitcases. “You truly need all this?”
“Unless you plan to keep me rolling in clean underwear, shoes, and hair products, yes.”
He laughed, then directed one of the chain-breakers to take my bags before claiming my arm. “The flight-limo is waiting downstairs.”
There is nothing remotely sexy about riding in an elevator when it’s full of armed security and luggage. Or, there shouldn’t be. Instead, I found myself pressed shoulder to shoulder with Petriv. He looked down at me, his eyes on my breasts first before moving to my face. I boldly returned the stare, daring him to say something, try something. Instead, I got a big fat nothing. What a letdown.
“Must be interesting always traveling with your own posse,” I said finally. “I bet they’re lots of fun at parties.”
“They’re excellent at determining and reacting to potential threats. Conversation is not their primary function.”
The ride ended and we were escorted to two waiting flight-limos. I kept my travel case containing my cards beside me. The chain-breakers took up positions around the first vehicle as Petriv and I slid inside. One of the chain-breakers slid in with us, forcing me to sit on the bench seat next to Petriv rather than the one facing him. The two men exchanged words in Russian, the conversation ending with an annoyed look from Petriv and an impassive one from the chain-breaker. So, no alone time with Petriv then. Oddly, I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or upset.
Moments later, I watched with interest as we ascended to low street orbit. I swallowed to unplug my ears as we climbed, then momentarily closed my eyes when the buildings were too small to see and I felt the weight of acceleration press me back. I breathed a quiet sigh once it eased. As rough as I found the initial takeoff, it kicked the crap out of the Y-Line commute.
I studied Petriv. He was staring off into the distance, probably linked to the CN-net. I’d never met anyone who so exceeded One Gov’s genetic specification guidelines. It almost seemed as if he’d been crafted as a means of showing off. Whoever whipped up his MH Factor had captured perfection. It made me curious since my own genetic makeup was so lacking. Any genetic manipulation would have come through my mother’s side, with limited adjustments while in the womb.
I cleared my throat and Petriv turned to me. Gods, how would I keep from shivering under his gaze? “When my assistant dropped off my cards, she said two men came to the shop looking for me. They had accents she didn’t recognize. You show up, tell me my mother is still alive, and suddenly I have strangers interested in my whereabouts. That’s too much coincidence. I suspect that the language was Portuguese, which would make them Brazilian. Is there anything you’d like to share?”
Petriv looked thoughtful. “Since our meeting, I’ve had you followed for your own protection, as I’m sure you noticed.” I hadn’t, but nodded like I’d realized it all along. My eyes slid to the chain-breaker across from us. “However, I hadn’t considered that TransWorld’s people might approach those closest to you.”
“Are you saying someone might hurt my friends? My family? Roy?” Gods, so I’d been right about Roy’s off behavior! They had gotten to him!
“Nothing so extreme. However, just because you believed your mother was dead doesn’t mean they were unaware of you. The Tsarist Consortium is TransWorld’s primary competition in the transit bid. They would certainly be interested to learn of our association.”
“How did they know we’d met?”
“I wasn’t subtle in my efforts to remove you from One Gov’s clutches.”
“If that asshole Mr. Pennyworth hadn’t hung me out to dry none of this would have happened.”
Petriv laughed. “Despite what you may think, Pennyworth has his uses.”
“You’ll have to forgive me if I disagree. If TransWorld suspects we’re working together, what does that mean for the auction? How will I get through their security?”
“You are an invited participant. You just chose to accept at the last minute. Furthermore, it’s a private event. The same checks won’t apply, even though the guest list indicates many of their employees will be there. I’m not saying it’s entirely risk-free, but we have the element of surprise on our side.”
“And at some point, I’ll be meeting my mother?” I asked with no less than a little fear.
“I would say it’s inevitable.”
I turned to gaze out the window, not wanting to continue the conversation. What would I say to her? After the card readings last night, I had an inkling of what she might be like and suspected any meeting would be civil, but cold. I pushed the depressing thought aside to focus on what was right in front of me.
Which, to my amazement, was Spencer Lift Point. We were coming in to land at the terminal point of the space elevator itself! No flight from Jomo to Moi. No shuttle to the harbor. I glanced at my bracelet for a time check. All of twenty minutes had passed.
I looked at Petriv, whistling in admiration. “Must be nice bypassing the crowds.”
“What’s the English expression? ‘Go big or go home,’ I believe.” He looked just this side of smug. Most men couldn’t do smug well—not without me wanting to kick them in the gonads, at any rate. Petriv’s smug expression made my heartbeat kick up a notch.
“You could have warned me we’d be taking a high-orbit, low-g flight instead of regular commercial. I’d have done something different with my hair. Karol left that out of his itinerary.”
“It could be because I asked him to. I hate to lose the opportunity to impress a beautiful woman,” he said, taking another sweeping glance of my hair and the rest of me. Yes, heart rate increasing. I’d scoffed before when he’d called me beautiful. But after the incident at the Kremlin, I was starting to buy the bullshit. Damn it, I needed to get away from Petriv. I repeated my new mantra: Roy, Roy, Roy. Focus on the end goal. “We’re taking the Consortium’s jet. It’s already docked at the JLA Station. Your hair will be fine.”
That did it. Without waiting for the chain-breaker, I slid open the flight-limo door and climbed out. The smell of salt air was strong as the wind caught my hair, tossing it in my face.
I stood at the terminal point proper. Soaring to heights unimaginable was Tsiolkovsky Tower Two, or TT2—a mass of carbon nanotube cabling that ran up to the JLA Space Station and was named after the Russian scientist who’d first conceptualized the idea of a space elevator and how it might work. At the base of the cable was the spiderlike climber known as the Daddy Longlegs. It waited to ferry passengers to the JLA Station. The station itself was the counterweight that kept the cable in a geosynchronous orbit around Earth. There, some would catch speedy high-orbit, low-g commercial flights to TT1, located in the Pacific and connected to the GLC Space Station. Then from there, one could continue on to Mars or to other points on that side of the Earth. Anyone else at TT2 would be a colonist en route to Venus.
Of course, those were all facts I knew about the space elevator. None reflected the reality I saw in front of me. I had to hold on to the flight-limo door to steady myself as I looked up. Roy used it all the time because of work, but I’d never had the opportunity. Now I stood on the platform itself, where only an authorized few, or the rich and powerful like Petriv, were allowed to be. Everyone else would be in a protected pod or on the catwalk leading from the hovercraft to the DLL.
I looked up. The cable, deceptively thin given the job it did, reached into the clear, blue sky. I couldn’t see the end of it. It just went up and up until it disappeared into a blue-white expanse of nothing. Clouds drifted around it. Seagulls dipped by, flying around a cable arcing into infinity.
“It’s so high,” I whispered, voice trailing off.
Vertigo hit as I tried to follow its length with my eyes. I couldn’t breathe. It was so massive, so mind-boggling. It was one thing to read about it or see images on the CN-net, but quite another to be this close and so exposed. I felt like I was standing at the beginning of infinity.
