part0032

He hoisted his flute of champagne, undoubtedly a rare and expensive vintage that was utterly wasted on him, and took a sip. The drink had a fruity aftertaste and the bubbles made him clear his throat. He reminded himself to go slow. The last thing he needed was to drink too much in this room.

Anthony Taulke and his partners reminded him of sharks. Predators circling the space, wary eyes looking for a weakness, waiting for a drop of blood in the water to spark a feeding frenzy. He recalled seeing a vid a long time ago about how female praying mantises ate their partners after mating. Maybe that was a more apt analogy.

Before Olympus, when he envisioned a space station, Graves had painted a mental picture of steel and formed plastic walls. Efficient and functional. True to form, Anthony Taulke defied those expectations. The room he stood in could have been transported directly from a European salon—probably was. The polished parquet floor under his feet had the springy feel of real wood, and when he knocked discreetly on the buttercream-yellow panel walls, they were most certainly not made from formed plastic. An elaborate, vaulted ceiling that looked like real plaster was tastefully illuminated with hidden lights and a magnificent crystal chandelier the size of his desk in Fort Hood completed the illusion.

Graves spied Cora across the room speaking to Adriana Rabh. Like him, she held a champagne flute and seemed to be drinking sparingly as well. Her eyes met his for a second and he raised his glass a few millimeters to acknowledge her.

He was worried about Cora. When they docked at Olympus and he’d gone to find her, he expected to find a woman devastated that Anthony Taulke had revealed her religion as a sham. What he found instead was a woman in the throes of a bad dream, twisting and crying out. At first he’d thought maybe she was having a seizure, but when he woke her she acted normal.

No, better than normal. Focused, driven, and capable of handling herself in any situation. Come to think of it, she was handling all this way better than he was.

“General? Are you finding everything to your liking?” Tony Taulke’s tone was professional and courteous, but with the subtle undercurrent of you-don’t-belong-here. Graves gave an inward sigh. If he didn’t want to be buttonholed into an unwanted conversation, he shouldn’t have been acting like a wallflower.

“Amazing,” he replied. “Not like any space station I’ve seen.”

“Been on many space stations, have you?”

Graves took note of the sharpness in his voice. “Just one, actually, the Neo station. And that didn’t work out so well for the Neos.”

Tony drained his glass and snagged another from a passing waiter. Even the waiters were dressed in short, dark jackets and ruffed shirt fronts, in keeping with the European drawing room theme. He quaffed a long swallow, then forced a smile.

“So I’ve heard,” Tony said.

Graves changed the subject. “I haven’t seen Ms. Qinlao tonight.”

Tony made a face like his champagne was sour. “The Qinlao faction will be joining us for your induction ceremony tomorrow. I’m afraid the Qinlao organization is tied up with other matters at present.”

“I was sad to hear of Ming’s passing,” Graves said. “She was quite a young woman. We worked together on Lazarus.”

“Hmm.” Tony nursed his glass. “The Qinlaos are consumed with their loss, I’m told.”

“And Ms. Kisaan?”

Tony studied Graves’s face, his dark eyes scanning for clues of Graves knew not what. Somehow, the mere mention of Elise Kisaan had touched a nerve. “Our lady in waiting. I’m afraid her condition doesn’t agree with her, but I suspect she’ll make an appearance at dinner.”

Graves offered up a tiny prayer of thanks that there was going to be food to counteract all the alcohol he’d already consumed. “And the baby? When is it due?”

“Ah, the blessed Child of Cassandra!” Tony said it just as there was a lull in the overall noise level in the room and everyone heard him. All eyes turned to Tony and Graves. Graves’s face went warm, but Tony seemed not to care about the attention.

Instead, he pointed to the door at the far end of the room. “Speak of the devil!”

Elise Kisaan stood framed in the three-meter-high drawing room doorway. She was clad in a flowing robe of white that hung on the curves of her very pregnant body. She wore no makeup and her straight dark hair was drawn back in a simple braid over her Neo tattoo. Her long face was drawn.

The room stood still and silent. Then Cora advanced cautiously. Elise’s smile lit up her face, making the lines and tiredness evaporate. She held out both hands to Cora. “Corazon, I’m so glad to see you again.”

Graves watched Cora’s shoulders quiver at Elise’s words, knowing his friend was crying tears of joy. Elise guided Cora’s hands to her belly.

From his vantage point at the back of the room, Graves could see everyone’s face in profile as they watched the scene play out before them. Tony had a smirk on his face, the edges of his lips twitching. Anthony and Viktor were standing together wearing nearly identical sympathetic expressions. Graves shifted his gaze to Adriana. Her eyes were cold and piercing and her sharp features were twisted into an angry scowl. This was a woman with an axe to grind.

A young man stepped close to her and she whispered into his ear. The man was Adriana’s height with thinning brown hair brushed straight back and a slight but wiry frame. The most notable thing about him was that he had an old paperback book tucked into his back pocket.

Their encounter lasted all of two seconds, so quickly that if Graves had not been staring at Adriana at that moment, he might have missed the meeting entirely. Graves swiveled his head to look around the room, but the man was gone.

Anthony stepped forward to put a fatherly hand on Elise’s shoulder. “Now that Elise has joined us, let’s go in to dinner, shall we?”

The wall to Graves’s left retracted to reveal a dining table set for seven. Anthony shooed his guests forward, using a pat on the back here, a gentle arm squeeze there. When he got to Graves, he guided him to one of two settings on the long side of the rectangular table. Graves surveyed the battlefield. Across from him were three places, then one on either flank. He and Cora would be on display—and surrounded—for dinner.

Cora touched his hand briefly as they all stood behind their chairs. Anthony took the center place directly across from Graves and Cora, with Adriana and Tony on either side. Elise and Viktor took the short ends of the table. Cora had secured her place closest to Elise.

Graves heard the doors close behind him, shutting out the European drawing room decor. In contrast, the dining room was uber-modern, all sleek glass and sculpted steel. The chair when he dragged it back was heavy and resembled a steel torture device. But when he sat, Graves felt the chair mold to his body and lift off the floor.

Anthony watched his expression change when he sat. “Happens every time,” he laughed. “The Mollet chairs are the most comfortable seat money can buy.”

Graves was inclined to agree. The lighting in the ceiling was hidden, but arranged so that the table glowed, illuminating the faces of the diners but leaving the rest of the room around them in deep darkness. Waiters passed like shadows behind them. Disembodied hands placed seven oblong plates in front of the diners all at exactly the same moment.

The white plate was mostly empty, except for a squirt of something that looked like Dijon mustard and two squares of bread with a curlicue of deep green on top. Years of practice told Graves to watch Anthony for his dining cues.

The elder Taulke picked up one of the triangles with his fingers, dipped one tip in the yellow sauce, and popped the whole thing in his mouth. Graves followed suit. His eyes snapped open at the explosion of taste on his tongue. Sweet and hot at the same time. A glass of white wine appeared in front of him and he took a careful sip. The taste expanded and deepened, making Graves think of a day at the beach.

“Well, what do you taste? Good?” Anthony asked.

Graves nodded. “Very. I guess I’m not very good at this, but I tasted the ocean.”

Adriana’s eyes widened. “You have a very sensitive palate, General. The pairing with the wine is designed to bring out the essence of sea urchin, but it’s very subtle. Most people miss it.”

Graves noticed Elise ate only one of the triangles and left her wine untouched.

In spite of himself, Graves enjoyed the meal immensely and scored several more appreciative nods from Adriana and Anthony. Tony slouched in his seat and ate his courses in spiteful bites without seeming to savor them. Viktor spent more time drinking than eating. To his right, Cora spoke in low tones to Elise, mostly talking about her migration experience to the US.

Graves caught Adriana’s eye. “Who was that man you were speaking to in the other room? The one with the book in his pocket.”

Adriana froze. Anthony sensed the change in her demeanor and turned in her direction. To Graves’s surprise, Tony answered his question. “You mean Fischer. Man only reads real books, says he can feel the words coming off the page. Can you believe that?”

“What’s he doing up on this level?” Anthony asked. “Fischer is security, right?”

Tony sat up in his chair. He waved his hands dismissively. “I lent him to Adriana as a body man back in New York. Just temporarily.”

Anthony nodded and was about to ask another question when dessert arrived. He smiled at Graves. “Now, General, this you will truly appreciate—” He broke off when Elise sat up suddenly.

“You will have to excuse me, Anthony.” Her voice was pinched and her face twisted with discomfort. “I think I need to lie down for a bit.” She put a hand on her belly and grimaced. “I don’t think the meal agreed with me.” She stood up, still gripping the edge of the table.

Cora was on her feet. “I’ll be happy to help—” She gasped.

The lower half of Elise Kisaan’s white dress was covered in blood.