I petted her and went back to the computer. Shadow curled up in the dog bed next to me.
I tapped my keyboard to bring my computer back to life, took the USB out of my pocket, and plugged it in. Lines of nonsense code filled the screen. Encrypted. Of course. I took the storage stick out. I would have to let Bern mess with it.
I logged into the Warden Interface with my credentials. The system let me in, and I selected “Emergency Notification” from the menu at the top of the page.
A new window popped up, blank. Linus had walked me through this. I was supposed to type out the nature of my emergency and wait for a response.
Speaker Luciana Cabera was murdered in a restaurant during lunch. Warden Duncan was attacked in his home and took Styxine. He is now in a vegetative state but stable and safe in my care. I suspect Arkan’s involvement. Prince Konstantin Berezin has approached me in my official capacity with an unspecified offer of assistance. Please advise.
I hit enter and waited. I had no idea if a Speaker of a State Assembly had been murdered before, but knowing the volatility of House politics, this probably wasn’t the first time. There were likely protocols in place to deal with dead Speakers, injured Wardens, and pushy foreign princes. Perhaps we would get some help, someone with more experience, a Warden from out of state or an agent from the National Assembly.
I got a tissue and dabbed at my eyes. If only I could stop crying, I would be okay. I wasn’t sobbing. The tears just kept leaking from my eyes, squeezed out by stress and pressure. If I walked into the meeting with my eyes all red, the entire family would focus on making me feel better instead of listening to what I had to say.
I needed to sort myself out and fast. Work was a great distraction. When you couldn’t deal with stress, sometimes it helped to sidestep it. I still had the Cabera murder, and I was overdue for a video call.
Agent Wahl answered immediately. “Agent Wahl.”
Some people looked exactly the way they were supposed to. Linus looked like a Prime, a top-tier mage who had been at the apex of power for decades. Similarly, Agent Wahl looked like an FBI agent: severe haircut, grave expression, athletic build, and that no-nonsense look in his eyes that suggested he knew you were up to no good even if you didn’t and he was not amused.
“You owe me a favor.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. That little affair involving two foreign Primes and a mysterious briefcase.”
“Still not ringing any bells.”
“The one that was rigged to explode if they didn’t open it in unison.”
“Oh, that briefcase. I’d nearly forgotten the whole thing.”
“Agent Wahl, it was two months ago. I dropped everything and came to your building on a Sunday. You owe the Office of the Warden a favor.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“It wouldn’t be a favor if you did.”
He sighed. “Lay it on me.”
I gave him the address of the warehouse. Our crew would be long gone by now.
“What’s there?”
“Something I need you to take point on. Consider this an anonymous tip.”
He gave a short chuckle and hung up.
I opened a browser and searched for Konstantin Berezin. A row of images popped up, followed by numerous links. Konstantin in a sharp dark-blue uniform with bloodred trim. Imperial Air Force. Konstantin next to his father, an older hard-faced man, both in suits and overcoats, posing for a publicity shot in the middle of a snow-strewn street, with the golden cupolas of some Russian cathedral behind them. Konstantin with his brothers, all in different military uniforms at some formal function.
One brother wore the black of the Imperial Navy and a magnanimous patient smile. The other brother, dark-haired like their father, looked like he wanted to punch somebody. Anybody. He didn’t seem to care who. His deep green Army uniform fit him like a second skin. Mom would call him squared away. Konstantin stood between them with a dreamy smile, as if he had just taken a long happy nap in a hammock under some tree.
Wolves in human skin, Alessandro called them. Now one of them was here. Why?
A soft beep announced an incoming message from the Wardens. Here we go. Help was on the way. I switched to the Warden Interface and clicked the message.
Understood, Acting Warden Baylor. Permission to investigate Speaker Cabera’s murder granted.
Godspeed.
Shit.
I stared at the screen.
Godspeed.
A soft knock made me raise my head. Mom stood in the doorway.
A spike of anxiety hammered into me. “Linus . . . ?”
“The same. You called the meeting in ten minutes, and the conference room is locked.”
Oh. I realized I was halfway out of my chair and sat down.
Mom shut the door and sat on the couch. Her leg bothered her today. I could tell by the way she moved, slightly stiff, careful how much weight she rested on it. For most of her life, Mom was athletic, strong, and fast. During a conflict in the Balkans, her unit had been caught between two enemy groups. The few survivors ended up in a POW camp in a small town taken over by Bosnians. Mom tried to escape and lead a group of soldiers out. She was caught.