She quickly put it out of her mind once she reached her bedroom on the top floor. If the cameras in the hallway had recorded her movements at all that night, they would only prove that Lila had exited her chamber at one in the morning and returned at half past six.
There were spies everywhere on the estate, especially in the great house.
Not in her bedroom, though. She made sure of it.
Lila snatched her palm computer from her desk. It was little more than a palm-sized touchscreen display only five millimeters thick, made of flimsy waterproof rubber and black plastic. The metal and circuits inside could slide and adjust when bent, making it virtually indestructible. Though it possessed only eighty percent of the power of her desktop computer, it was much more flexible in its capabilities, much like its frame.
Lila set the device to search for the telltale signals of bugs and waved it along the dark gray and white walls. She eyed the screen while she aimed it at the few pieces of furniture in her room: a bed with black blankets and a pop of crimson, a long black couch with one stray red pillow, a coffee table, a chest of drawers with photographs of her family and friends arranged on top, a bedside table, and a massive desk. Artisans had carved each piece from ebony and stained it to the blackest black. Despite the room’s large size, Lila had never possessed the time or inclination to fill it with anything more, and its minimalist style made sweeping for bugs so much easier. In fact, the only decoration in her room was a silver Randolph coat of arms, hung above the couch.
Finding nothing in the sweep, Lila dropped her palm on her desk, yawned, and kicked off her boots. She stuffed her peacoat, clothes, thermal suit, and the remains of the DNA pen into a canvas sports bag and hid it inside a secret compartment in the closet. She tossed the cigars in a drawer and slipped the star drive into a hidden panel in her desk for later processing. Then she hopped into the welcoming embrace of a hot shower, stripping off layer after layer of smoke, gasoline, and ash. The last layer she scrubbed away was Canidae, created to erase its wearer’s scent from the purview of nosy dogs. Randolph researchers had concocted the recipe, and she had tested it for the first time that very same night. Perhaps it had helped cover the scent of gas and smoke.
Once Lila was in the shower, it was hard for her to step out again. She had spent the last several hours cold and wet, and warmth was now a welcome friend. After a good scrub with apple-scented shampoo, Lila turned the water off and dressed in a thick w
hite robe, stitched with the family coat of arms on the left breast. She felt more like herself with its return, and glanced longingly at her bed.
Unfortunately, there was no time for sleep. The first order of business would be a mug of hot chocolate and a pain pill for her pounding headache, followed closely by a stroll through Bullstow’s computer network. She needed to see what the DNA pen had managed to transmit before it had been smashed under her boot.
There was a soft knock at the door.
Lila stepped to the door and peeked through the peephole. “It’s barely six o’clock, Alex,” she muttered. The slave’s crisp white blouse and skirt had not a wrinkle anywhere, and her blonde hair was styled perfectly, even at such an early hour.
As soon as Lila opened the door, Alex lifted her silver tray and bowed deeply, exposing a tiny scar on her neck from her slave incision. Lodged deep inside was an identity chip and homing beacon, placed far too near her arteries and veins for all but the most competent of medical professionals to dig out again. Not that it stopped some from trying, and dying in the attempt.
Keeping her back low, Alex tilted her head up at Lila. “I assumed you were asleep,” she whispered, still obediently bent at the waist.
“I assumed you know by now that I am unpredictable.”
“Who was he?” Alex said, a twinkle in her eye. “Is he still here?”
“He?”
“She, then? My, my, my, I suppose things really have changed since university.”
“Shut up, Alex.”
“As you wish, Chief Randolph.” The slave bowed deeper, her face the very model of seriousness and propriety, except for a slight sarcastic twist on one side of her mouth.
Lila tugged Alex into her room. It was such a quick movement that the slave nearly tripped over her heels. She barely managed to avoid dropping the silver tray.
“Would you knock it off?” Lila growled once the door had closed.
Alex surveyed the room, even peeking into the closet and the bathroom. Lila drew the line at her old friend checking under the bed. “There’s no one here.”
“Then you went out? I’m glad to hear it. You’ve been starved for months. The staff was beginning to worry. I thought I might have to work my old contacts and lure some highborn scoundrel here for you to devour. I still know several who would meet your requirements.”
Lila tried not to think about the truth in Alex’s pronouncement. She was a bit starved. She hadn’t been with a man in over a year, which she knew was far too long. If the staff of the great house was already beginning to whisper about it, the family would be sure to follow. Things would get awkward if that happened.
As if she needed one more thing to worry about.
Lila put it on her list of things to do. One, figure out if Bullstow had matched her DNA. Two, find Zephyr. Three, find and kill Tristan. Four, send a report to R&D about the Canidae trial run. Five, invite a man over for dinner and a show.
Six, avoid contacting her client until she had sorted out what had happened at Bullstow.
“I’m not starved, and I didn’t go anywhere,” she lied, somewhat amused at Alex’s rather accurate description of her past lovers. But at least wastrel sons of insignificant highborn families never wanted to get her pregnant. It would please their mothers and matrons too much. “I’ve been home all night.”
“Fibber. I know you were with someone because you have that post-sex glow about you—”
“That’s gas.”