Skin Deep

CHAPTER 14

LAURA PACED IN front of Terryn’s desk. She didn’t like not understanding what was going on, when events ran a course she couldn’t predict. One small decision could change everything, one wrong move cause disaster. The creation of a simple glamour to infiltrate the local SWAT team, so mundane at the time, a routine information-gathering task, had set in motion a strange path of overlapping agendas among unlikely players.

She threw herself in the guest chair for the fourth or fifth time. Terryn’s office was Terryn. Photographs lined the walls, landscapes of his ancestral home in Ireland, including a shot of a depressed city. He told her once that the city had grown up over a battlefield that was once a place of beauty and sadness. He wanted to remind himself that the future doesn’t always improve on the past. She didn’t like the idea.

Terryn’s body signature preceded him into the room, and she jumped to her feet. “Dammit, Terryn, I’ve been calling you for hours. Who the hell is that guy in the photo I sent you?” she asked.

He dropped a messenger bag on one of the side chairs and a stack of files on his desk. “Simon Alfrey. I knew him long ago,” he said.

She stood in front of his desk with her arms crossed. “He’s the Inverni from the drug raid. What the hell does this mean, Terryn?”

He narrowed his eyes in thought. “I don’t know. He’s been in Maeve’s service since Convergence. The Alfreys submitted to the Seelie Court before any of the other Inverni clans. Simon likes to style himself as Maeve’s loyal servant, despite any political differences he has with her.”

“By running drugs and trying to kill me?”

Terryn’s brow twitched in thought. “I agree it doesn’t make sense. Maybe this is part of a Guild mission that InterSec doesn’t know about.”

Laura jabbed her finger against the desktop. “He tried to kill me, Terryn, and nearly provoked an essence fight with Bloom in front of the Russell Senate Building. That’s one helluva mission directive.”

Terryn continued unperturbed. “I’m speculating, Laura. I know Maeve manipulates him, and he her. It wouldn’t surprise me if the High Queen is using him to stir up trouble somewhere. She’s done it before. Simon likes to be involved in things that may backfire on Maeve,” he said.

Laura realized she was leaning over Terryn as if he were somehow at fault. She stepped back and sat. “Isn’t that the question? What is he involved in? Who’s really involved here? What are they doing that they are willing to kill FBI agents and police officers? It can’t be drugs. Not at this level,” Laura said.

He shook his head. “You’re right. It’s not drugs. I’ve penetrated the spell on the USB drive you recovered. The data was degraded, but the apartment complex was a makeshift communications center. You stumbled on some kind of shadow network.”

Laura sank into the guest chair. “Okay, this sounds ominous.”

He gestured at the files on his desk. “There’s data relating to manufacturing operations and financial resources. An odd collection of people are either involved or at least targeted for research. There’s information about Blume’s operations, several human businessmen and politicians in the U.S., an unusual assortment of Celtic fey. I don’t know what to make of it yet. I also found several itineraries-including this week’s schedule for the president and Hornbeck,” he said.

She leaned forward. “Both Hornbeck and the president are going to be at the Archives this week. Should we consider canceling the ceremony?”

Terryn divided the files into different stacks. “Rhys and the president don’t like impulsive reactions to these things. I don’t want to look foolish if it’s something else. There are several high-profile itineraries in here. Based on what I’m seeing, it could be anything from money laundering to blackmail. There’s also a manifesto of sorts on the drive.”

“Manifesto? Like crazy manifesto?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “Is there any other kind?”

Laura looked at the files. “I’d like to see it.”

Terryn pulled a thick, bound report out of the top folder and tossed it to the edge of his desk. “I made you a copy. There’s a profile of Alfrey in there, too.”

Laura started flipping through it. “We have two days to figure out if the Archives ceremony is related. I’m betting it is. You’re naming too many people in that file who are going to be at the ceremony. I don’t like coincidences.”

“I’m putting some of it in channels so we can see what the other agencies think,” he said.

She gathered her things and stood at the door. “Blume just got himself invited to the ceremony this afternoon, Terryn. I’m going to see if I can get rid of him. Keep me updated.”

With normal business hours almost over, Laura didn’t want to return to the public-relations department and get sucked into a last-minute project or crisis. She rode the elevator to the garage instead and jumped in her Mercedes. At first she drove with no direction, even no thought, just listening to music and going through the motions of driving. Eventually, rush hour reared its head, and the pleasure and distraction of driving vanished.

She had no desire to return to one of her persona apartments-even her so-called real one in Alexandria. All of them had a work connotation that would intrude on her in distracting ways. Jumping among three personas was tiring, and she didn’t want to feel like she was Mariel or Janice or even Laura, the public-relations staffer.

She parked on the opposite end of town near the Congressional Cemetery. No one she knew would stumble across her in that out of the way corner of the city. The cemetery was not on the major tour routes and had few visitors late in the day. She roamed the graves until she reached the far end away from the road, a shallow depression with tumbled grave markers. Earthmoving machinery was in evidence, and she idly wondered if the landscaping was being repaired or redesigned. She found a low retaining wall to sit on and pulled out the Alfrey profile.

Simon Alfrey was an opportunist, that much was clear. Terryn had collated a laundry list of shady financial dealings, real estate transactions, and political maneuverings that stretched back almost a century. Connections to the Seelie Court were evident, but no firm link existed between him and high-level court officials. As she went deeper into the report, she saw why. The Seelie Court might enjoy using him, but they didn’t trust him.

The Alfrey clan had a history of politically opposing Terryn’s clan for the rule of the Inverni fairies. The macCullens had even ruled the Seelie Court before their defeat by the Danann fairies. As former enemies, Terryn’s family walked a delicate balance between keeping their kindred united while at the same time not overtly threatening the rule of the Seelie Court. The Dananns had numbers on their side, and when Convergence happened, the major clans united around Maeve to protect them in the strange modern world. Except the Inverni. With the instigation of the Alfrey clan, the Invernis made an attempt to win the throne during the confusing early days of Convergence. Terryn’s father, Aubry macCullen, led the effort against Maeve and lost his life when the revolt failed. The Inverni submitted to the crown, but not before blood had been shed and alliances were broken. The Alfrey clan had seen the inevitable and blamed the insurgence on the macCullens.

She went back to her car and drove a few blocks to a coffee shop. As twilight fell, she sat at a corner table reading the manifesto. It was definitely crazy. Well-written crazy, but crazy. She’d seen it all before, the rants about failed government and suffering peoples, the need to replace it all with something shiny and new. Except the cynical secret of all manifestos was that they sought a result no different than the state of affairs they claimed to despise. Only, of course, things would be much better if the crazies were in charge.

She finished her coffee and ordered another to go. What made her pause about the manifesto, though, was its breadth. It wasn’t about taking down the U.S. or the Seelie Court or the Teutonic Consortium. It was about taking down all of them, sweeping away all three structures and replacing it with another one. The fatal flaw in the plan that the authors missed was the point of most political history and goals, the hope that everyone would compromise and unite and get along. It wasn’t going to happen overnight because someone thought it should and wrote it down.

Between the manifesto and Alfrey, Laura had a good idea of what the drug raid was about. Money, of course, and politics, as usual. It wasn’t a huge leap to make the connection that Alfrey still opposed the Seelie Court and needed money to do something about it. Under normal circumstances, security agencies would contain the group and write off the ideas. But between Alfrey’s history and his connections to the Seelie Court, Laura thought he needed to be taken more seriously.

She drove by the Vault. Restless, she circled the block. She didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment and read through the files again. After another two passes down the street, she spotted the InterSec agent watching the club and parked not far behind him. She pulled out Mariel’s cell phone and called Terryn.

“Hey. I want to take over the surveillance at the Vault. Can you call off our babysitter?” she said when he answered.

“Go home and get some sleep, Laura,” he said.

“I’m bored.”

“Laura…” he began.

“Can we not do this, Terryn? I can handle this. I just don’t want to go home right now.”

He didn’t answer right away. A moment later, the InterSec agent started up his car and drove off. “Are you okay?” Terryn asked.

“Yeah. Stuff on my mind.”

“I know what you mean,” he said. She waited, expecting him to elaborate. After a long silence, he said. “Call when you want to be relieved.”

“I will. See you tomorrow.” She disconnected and settled more comfortably in her seat. After Aubry died, Terryn had delegated his authority to his siblings, come to the U.S., and joined the Guild. That much she knew. But old clan politics from before she was born was something else. Terryn knew Simon Alfrey better than he’d let on.

The dinner crowd trickled into the club. Obvious couples arrived-pairs and groups of four. High-level business people, financiers in particular, exited limousines. Several acknowledged each other without surprise. She watched with a mental hyperawareness, using the mnemonic tricks druids were adept at, attaching names to human and fey guests she recognized, while she made memory imprints of the faces she didn’t. At her leisure, she would activate full recall and scan through the InterSec databases for more names to give Terryn.

During a lull, she released the mnemonic spell, and her sensing ability reasserted itself. A body signature registered on the edge of her range, a stationary body signature, as if someone waited nearby. The moment she noticed it, it withdrew. On a busy street with people socializing, a stationary body signature was not unusual. She’d noticed it only by chance. Still, she checked her mirrors.

Patrons leaving the Vault began to outnumber those going in. Laura relaxed again to take a break, and immediately sensed a body signature again. Earlier, it had been behind her, but now it was somewhere off to her left, too far for her to make a positive identification. She boosted more essence into her sensing ability. As soon as her ability touched it, it withdrew again. Someone was watching her.

Considering that she had been sitting for a few hours, an alert security guard might have noticed her. With a short spell, she changed the basics of her facial features, flattening them out and shortening her hair, and got out of the car. She didn’t want Janice or Mariel seen near the club tonight. She leaned against the door and pretended to drink from her long-empty coffee cup. No one on the sidewalk paid her any attention.

She searched for Gianni. He operated at the Vault as senior security and might be there. She sipped air again. She knew his personality type. He would consider foot patrol beneath him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have someone else looking. The body signature didn’t reappear. With a last casual glance around, she got back in her car.

The night lengthened. The limos returned. She saw Blume depart alone in a black Town Car. Two congressmen left so soon after that she guessed that the three had attended a meeting together. More businesspeople, two well-known lobbyists for the banking industry, and a dwarf she remembered from an accounting scandal several years earlier. A large cluster departed at once, many of the same group that had arrived together. A meeting had definitely taken place.

Gianni appeared with his cell phone jammed to his ear. He looked neither right nor left, but cut into an alley beside the club. Moments later, his truck appeared. She followed him as he drove a direct route to Georgetown. Unlike the Vault, the bars and clubs along M Street whirled with late-night activity. Gianni cruised past clubs and cafes, slowing to check out the lines of people waiting to get in. Laura couldn’t tell if he was looking for someone specific or scoping the scene.

She slouched in her seat, wondering what the hell she had stumbled into. Gianni and Alfrey had been at the drug raid. Both had connections to Blume, who also had connections to Hornbeck. If Blume were involved, she couldn’t see an angle on his desire to attend the Archives ceremony. He certainly hadn’t been happy to see Alfrey. If something were to happen, she imagined he’d want to be as far away as possible.

Gianni turned onto a narrow side street. As she made the corner, the red brake lights on his truck blazed in the dark. She drove past. The street was too narrow to pass him, and she didn’t want to risk a face-to-face encounter. She made a U-turn and drove by again. Gianni’s truck remained with its hazard lights on. Laura pulled to the curb in front of a fire hydrant. The Guild would pay the ticket if she got one.

She strolled down the sidewalk. Nondescript storefronts occupied the ground floors, offices for lawyers and insurance agents broken up by the occasional dry cleaner or convenience store. Not the trendy boutiques and wine bars M Street was known for. She reached the corner and peered up a lane that looked like a service road. Gianni stood outside his truck. Across from him, a black car idled behind a large building. The building hid most of the car except the front end.

She slipped into the alley. Two cars parked on the curb blocked her from view. From the new perspective, the black car looked like a diplomatic vehicle with missing flags. It could mean any foreign government-or a fey diplomat. As a precaution, Laura pulled in her body signature tightly to limit exposure. She didn’t want to risk someone fey in the car sensing her from a distance. The downside was that she also reduced her own sensing ability.

She moved into the recessed space of a closed garage bay. Closer, but then Gianni’s truck blocked her line of sight. Gianni had moved to the car to speak with someone in the backseat. Laura assessed the open space of the lane. Shadowed service entrances offered some concealment. She slipped to the first door without a problem. She passed to the next two, exposing herself for no more than a few seconds. A long stretch of empty pavement lay between her and a garage door. She would stand out against a white-painted wall for several long seconds, but the vantage point would offer a direct view of the car. She stepped out of the shadows.

A rough sending rumbled in her mind as a large hand clamped over her mouth. You’re safe.

She slammed on her body shield as her attacker’s other arm snaked around her from behind. Too late. He was close enough for her shield to envelop them both. He hugged her as she fought to break his hold. His body signature was a bundle of noise in her senses, human and something else.

Stop. Look at the roofline, he sent.

Against her better judgment, she stopped struggling. Something moved in the blackness above, a dark shadow and a ripple of pale light. Another appeared, then a third launched into the air. They flew over the alley to the roof of the building above and behind her. Shielded fairy sentries, Dananns by their stealth. She hadn’t seen, felt, or heard them.

She stopped fighting. Thank you, she sent.

He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “Don’t mention it, Ms. Blackstone.”

Laura froze at the sound of Sinclair’s voice.