CHAPTER 22

The woman who finally answered the door on the third ring of the buzzer was dressed in a fuzzy blue bathrobe and pajama pants, her brown-blond hair pulled up into a messy bun. She held a baby on one hip. “One minute, one minute, for heaven’s sa – Kaplan?” She did a double take at the sight of Kovalic and the general standing on the walkway outside. “What the devil are you doing here?”

“Inspector Fayerweather. Good to see you again. Can we come in?” He gestured to the apartment beyond her.

Veronica Fayerweather gaped, as if still trying to process exactly what was going on. The baby took this opportunity to start wailing, and her eyes took on a glazed expression. “Look, now’s not a good time.”

The general doffed the snap-brim cap he was wearing and smiled genially. “We’re very sorry to bother you at home, inspector, but I’m afraid this matter simply cannot wait. And who is this charmer?” He leaned in close to the baby who suddenly went quiet, large blue eyes studying this new and different face.

Kovalic tried his best not to goggle as the general, the former head of Illyrican intelligence, the most formidable opponent the Commonwealth had faced during its long war with the Imperium, stuck his tongue out at a baby. Of all the things he’d seen in the past week – terrorists threatening to blow up a space station, accusations of treason being flung like so much confetti, conspiracies galore – this might be the most unbelievable.

Fayerweather, for her part, softened as the baby stared at the newcomer. “This is Marcus.” She hitched the baby up on her hip, sighed, and stepped aside. “Fine, come in.”

The apartment looked like a tornado had hit it, followed in rapid succession by an earthquake and a hurricane. The detritus of an infant was everywhere, from a half-used box of diapers to a playmat on the floor, over which dangled a purple monkey clutching a pair of cymbals.

“I’d say sorry about the mess, but I’m going to be honest: I’m too tired to care,” said Fayerweather, dropping back down on the couch with a groan. She cradled the baby against her, but its eyes still went to the general’s bearded face.

“I’m given to understand the first few months are the hardest,” said the general, who had not banished the kind note from his voice. “But they say it does get easier.”

Kovalic stared at him. Who the hell was this, and what had they done with Hasan al-Adaj?

“Couldn’t get much harder,” said Fayerweather, with a bleak smile. But it brightened as her eyes slid to the baby, and Kovalic saw her relax as the infant rotated inward and snuggled up against her. “I’d offer you something to eat or drink, but…” She waved a hand at the kitchenette off to one side, stacked high with dirty plates and dishes.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” said Kovalic. “We’re fine.”

Fayerweather nodded, a movement which went on a bit too long and looked as though her chin might suddenly slump to her chest. She suddenly snapped back, her eyes widening. “Sorry, what are you doing here again? I haven’t seen you since that murder case, when was it… three years ago?” She blinked. “Was it that long? I have to be honest: I’ve lost all sense of time.”

“Yeah,” said Kovalic, “about three years ago.” A civilian had gotten themselves mistaken for an Illyrican agent at a dead drop, with unfortunate consequences, and Kovalic and Fayerweather had each held a piece of a puzzle that had made little sense until they’d been able to combine them.

Her eyes sharpened. “And Rashad called me about you just the other day – said he ran into you poking around his crime scene. Causing trouble, as usual.”

“Was I causing trouble?” said Kovalic. “Or was I doing my civic duty by assisting the authorities in an important investigation?”

“Hmm,” said Fayerweather.

Gently setting aside a surfeit of pillows and burp cloths, the general sat down on a nearby armchair. “Again, we are terribly sorry to disturb you while you’re on leave, but I’m afraid we are in dire need of your help, inspector.”

Fayerweather eyed the general, then turned to Kovalic. “I don’t know who he is, but you should always bring him along. Really softens your rough edges.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Kovalic spared a glance at the general, who was still making faces at the baby. “We’re trying to track down some documents that might have originated in the counterintelligence division of the Bureau and made their way to CID.”

She blinked, as if trying to square the request with her current circumstances. “And you came to me.” Suspicion had filtered into her voice. She shifted the baby to her knee, bouncing him up and down as he continued to stare wide-eyed at the general. “Why not call Rashad? Or CID? I mean, I have no idea who you actually work for, but I’m guessing you’ve got contacts there.”

“And miss out on this wonderful opportunity to catch up?” said Kovalic.

“Uh huh. Look, it’s not that I haven’t kept an ear to the ground – there are really only so many hours a day you can spend talking to a baby before you go mad – but I’ve hardly been what you might call ‘in the loop’ for the last few months.” She nodded to the baby, who burped, as if on cue.

Kovalic exchanged a look with the general, who dipped his head, signaling him to proceed. “We believe there’s an Illyrican mole embedded within the Commonwealth intelligence community. Probably highly placed, but we’re not sure where. Finding these documents is the best lead we have to track them down.”

A gleam of understanding sparked in the inspector’s eyes. “And because I’ve been on leave, you’ve ruled me out as a suspect.”

“That and your charming personality.”

“Because double agents can’t be charming?”

“Just the opposite,” said Kovalic.

Fayerweather gave him a sour look.

“Yes, exactly like that.”

The inspector sighed. “So what exactly are these documents? Counterintel files a lot of reports, and our information sharing agreements mean anything above a certain grade is automatically CC’d to all the other relevant agencies.”

“This would have been a report on financial activity relating to the Novan Liberation Front,” said Kovalic. “In particular, tracking courier movements between Bayern and Nova.”

“Nova Front?” said Fayerweather. “The ones who blew up the ConComm hub? Jesus, Kaplan, you don’t ask much, do you?”

“I don’t call in favors for the small stuff, inspector.”

“No shit.” She shook her head. “OK, let me see if I’ve got this straight: you want me to use my clearance to poke around and see if I can find this report and who had access to it.”

“Indeed,” said the general. “And, it should go without saying, quietly. We can’t have anybody else getting wind of it.”

For the first time, a troubled expression crossed the woman’s face. “Even Rashad.”

Kovalic’s smile was tight and without mirth. “Much as I’d like to eliminate Inspector Laurent from consideration, he certainly would have had access. We can’t discount him yet.”

“Very troubling,” she muttered. Her gaze alit upon the baby, hands tightening around his mid-section. “How worried should I be that this is going to blow back on me?”

It was a good question, and Kovalic found his eyes drawn to the baby as well. Was it fair to put the inspector – and her family – in harm’s way? He let out a long breath. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “It’s not without risk. I’m sorry. We wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

The inspector raked her bottom lip with her teeth. “OK.” She bounced the baby again and he cooed, or gave at least a reasonable facsimile of happiness. “Can I think about it?”

Kovalic opened his mouth, but the general beat him to it, smiling again. “Of course. We can’t ask more than that.” The old man got to his feet, with that creaking of joints and servos that Kovalic now knew to be more theater than fact. “And with that, we’ll leave you in peace.”

Fayerweather snorted. “‘Peace’ tells me that, for all your airs, you’ve definitely never raised a kid.”

“You’re not wrong,” the general admitted. “Not without a lot of help, anyway.” He gave her a slight bow again and donned his hat.

“Thanks for seeing us,” said Kovalic. He raised his sleeve and flicked his contact information towards her. “You can reach me here.”

There was a buzz from Fayerweather’s own arm as she accepted the transfer. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t get up.”

“Of course,” said Kovalic. “We can see ourselves out.” He gave her a nod, then picked his way through the minefield back towards the front door.

“Oh, and Kaplan?” the inspector called after him.

“Yes?”

“Stay out of trouble.”

Kovalic gave her a rueful look. “Too late for that. Way too late.”

They let themselves out and stood on the breezeway, a warm wind whipping around them. Fayerweather’s apartment was several stories up a high-rise, and the afternoon light bathed the building in rich hues of orange and pink as they looked out at the skyscrapers of Salaam.

“I suppose that went as well as could be expected,” said the general. He peered out over the railing. “Rance ought to be coming around with the car shortly.”

Kovalic joined him, his hands curling around the railing. “I can’t help worrying that we’ve just put a target on her back.”

The general tilted his head to one side. “She’s a veteran field agent at the Bureau, Simon. I imagine she can hold her own.”

“Doesn’t mean we need to throw her into the frying pan.”

“Oh come now, that’s a bit dramatic.”

Kovalic’s hands tightened, the railing the only thing preventing them from becoming fists. “Dramatic? Look at us – accused of treason, on the run from the law, one step from being thrown in prison or worse. That can’t happen to her; she has a family.”

“We’re all taking risks,” said the general shortly. “That’s what war is.”

“But she didn’t sign up for it.”

“Didn’t she?” asked the general, raising one eyebrow. “I think we should be more concerned that she might call Inspector Laurent anyway. I’ll notice you didn’t bother telling her that we’re fugitives and that her partner is the one hunting us.”

The thought had crossed his mind, but it had very conveniently not come up. Was he afraid that she wouldn’t help them if she knew the truth? Convenient for Kovalic, then, but not for Veronica Fayerweather.

Some habits were so deeply ingrained that they were tough to excise and, as a rule, intelligence agents didn’t give away any more than they had to. Not without getting something in return anyway. But at the end of the day, the general wasn’t wrong: Kovalic was just as culpable for whatever came next.

Here’s hoping it wasn’t the worst, for her sake and for theirs. They were precious short on friends of any stripe at present, and going to Fayerweather was a calculated risk. If this ended up blowing one of their few allies, then going back to square one wouldn’t be their biggest problem.

It took a moment for Kovalic to let go of the railing; he shook out his hands, cold from the metal. “Never mind. Let’s just go.”

The wind blew back his hair as he stalked down the breezeway, the general silently following. Still, the guilt sat heavy in his stomach, its tendrils snaking their way up and outward. At least he felt bad about it; the general seemed to take it as the cost of doing business.

And Kovalic was starting to realize that when it came to that cost, the two of them weren’t necessarily in perfect alignment. The general had been willing to let Sayers kill Page. He’d burned Yevgeniy Esterhaus, one of – nominally – his closest friends.

Kovalic’s priority had always been the safety of his people; he worried that the general’s was preserving his agenda.

Even if it meant casualties.