Lila knew he worked hard for it.
Prime Minister Lemaire reclined in his expensive leather chair and scratched his salt-and-pepper stubble, coat and breeches cut in white, eyes red and tired. He motioned for her to sit. The gesture and his voice occurred slightly out of sync. Lag. The bane of VR transmissions. It was not a good start to the conversation.
Lila flopped down, hoping she would not miss her real chair in her bedroom, for the chair in her client’s office and her own were not remotely in the same place. The software corrected with a brief sizzle and flicker as soon as she sat down.
“Father, how’s your chair?”
“Comfortable.”
The question and reply was a constant joke between them. Right after Lila’s twelfth birthday, her father had moved to Unity as one of the newest members of the national High House, America’s senate. Lila had been distressed about the change, for she had spent a lot of time visiting her father at Bullstow, sneaking around the compound, and seeking out her younger brother Shiloh in places she had no permission to be. In an effort to placate Lila, her father had told her that he would come back if his chair was not as comfortable as the one in Saxony’s High House. Before he arrived in Unity, Lila had already bribed a slave to swap out his expensive leather office chair for a wooden stool.
Prime Minister Lemaire did not ask for a replacement. He stubbornly used it, even during meetings, for an entire legislative session. Predictably, Lila realized that she could survive without her father while he tended to the business of the country. She bought him a new chair for the next session, the most expensive and lavish one she could find, but he did not throw out the old stool. Even now, it lived in the corner of his office, chipped and beaten, a splash of blue paint on one of the legs. A little plaque had been bolted to the edge of the seat. Remember Your Sacrifice had been etched into the metal.
Lemaire had added it himself.
Lila spied a plate on his desk, captured by the cameras inside his office. “Is that bacon and sausage, Father?”
Frowning, he picked up his breakfast and hid it behind a stack of papers. “Things have been busy in New Bristol. I’ve already spoken to Governor LeComte and Chief Shaw twice this morning. What do you know?”
Lila settled into her chair. “I know your doctors told you to stop eating bacon and sausage.”
“Lila.”
“I know that the heart-clogging capabilities of your breakfast do not suddenly disappear just because you’ve hidden them away. What are you, five?”
He fixed her with a stern gaze and hunkered over his desk. A loud creak cut across the transmission, delayed by half a second. “This gas explosion at Bullstow has your friend written all over it.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, keeping her answers vague and free of names in case the line had been bugged.
“Lila, was he involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Or at least you have your suspicions. I know that face. I’ve seen it on your mother too much.” He sighed tiredly. “Lila, you cannot… We cannot afford to be in league with his sort.”
“His sort?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do, but keep in mind that I could only trust his sort, not unless you’d rather face an endless drain on your bank account every week for the gift of silence.”
“I’d rather have that to deal with than a governor who believes the Almstakers have resurfaced under a different name. Cut ties. Immediately. It’s too risky.”
“No, I’ve invested too much time and energy. I’ll not have my contact burned. Besides, he’s the best option for our work in the region.”
Lemaire stroked his chin, considering her face. “You have your orders. Report.”
“You want a report? Fine. Bullstow is a lovely place to walk in the middle of the night, especially when you have business.”
“Last night?”
“Of course.”
Lemaire’s shoulders fell. “I was afraid of that. Did you finish your walk successfully?”
“Yes, but as you can see, there were complications. I’m not yet aware of the details.”
The prime minister leaned back in his chair. “I don’t like being kept in the dark. I don’t like how you’re handling this mess, either. What of the information?”