WHEN Dekkard and Avraal finally reached the house and garaged the Gresynt, Avraal turned to Gaaroll. “Nincya, we’ll tell Emrelda about the assassin first.”
“I didn’t see anything. All I sensed was that he died.”
“Which is what happened,” said Dekkard sardonically, deciding that he’d deal with the Gresynt later. He did close the garage door, though.
When the three reached the kitchen, Emrelda looked up with an expression of annoyance and relief. “I was getting a little worried.”
“Part of that was my fault,” said Dekkard. “There were a lot of letters to sign and some to correct, and I stayed late to finish them. That wouldn’t have been too bad, but, as we were headed down Jacquez, Nincya sensed two possible assassins on the east side of Florinda Way. We investigated and found another up in the big oak tree at the end of the block, the one back from the intersection—”
“An assassin?” asked Emrelda.
“We weren’t sure,” said Dekkard. “We left Nincya in the steamer and we walked down close enough for Avraal to sense the three.” Dekkard looked to Avraal.
“The man in the tree was an isolate.”
“Do I want to hear more?” asked Emrelda.
“It’s better that you do,” said Dekkard.
“I managed to panic the two in the Realto,” said Avraal. “They drove off in a hurry. We waited for the third man. He must have been worried, because he slipped and fell headfirst. He broke his neck. We left the body where he fell.”
“Oh,” added Dekkard. “He had a rifle in a sling and pistol.”
“I haven’t heard any patroller whistles,” replied Emrelda, frowning.
“We thought it might be better if someone else discovered the body,” said Dekkard.
“That was rather convenient,” said Emrelda, dryly.
“After everything so far,” replied Avraal, “I’m not about to turn down a convenient occurrence, especially when we have no real idea who might be behind these attacks. All it means is that someone is still after Steffan and they’ll likely try again.”
“Whoever’s behind it is linked to the Commercers,” said Dekkard, “most likely to a large corporacion.”
“You think … Siincleer Engineering?”
Dekkard shook his head. “I think it’s linked to me and possibly to the Security reform act. All of this started after I introduced the proposed legislation. The full Council is supposed to debate and vote on it tomorrow. I may be called upon to defend the act before the Council.”
“Who else supports it?” asked Emrelda.
“Quite a few councilors, possibly because Security has been doing the bidding of the major corporacions, if quietly, for decades.”
“What a surprise,” interjected Emrelda with a sardonic bitterness.
“Many will likely vote for it, but won’t want to speak in favor of it.”
“Will you still be a target even after it becomes law?” asked Gaaroll.
“Of course,” replied Avraal. “If Steffan’s killed, that will warn other councilors not to take on the corporacions, because they never forget.”
Gaaroll looked to Emrelda. “Is that true?”
“It’s true.” Emrelda’s voice was like cold iron.
“What can we do?”
“Keep him from getting killed, and discover and prove who’s behind it,” said Avraal. “Not just who’s hiring the assassins, but who’s behind them.”
“And possibly who’s behind them,” added Emrelda.
“You think you can?” Gaaroll’s voice trailed off.
“Why not?” asked Avraal. “Besides, if we don’t, who will? It can’t be that much worse than what you’ve already lived through, can it?”
Gaaroll offered an amused smile. “When you put it that way.”
“Now that we’ve settled that,” said Emrelda, “could we have dinner?” Then she stopped. “I almost forgot. Steffan, you’ve got a letter from Oersynt. Since the return address is N. Dekkard…”
“It’s from your sister,” finished Avraal.
“Thank you. I’ll read it a little later. Right now, I’m going to get the drinks,” offered Dekkard. He could definitely use a Kuhrs, and he suspected Avraal could use a glass of Silverhills.
In the end, Dekkard had two hefty beakers of Kuhrs with dinner, which was spicy-hot rice and chicken fry-up with a green salad.
After they ate, Dekkard and Avraal retreated to the sitting room, where he opened the letter. He glanced at the first few lines and smiled. “I’m going to read this aloud.
“Thank you for your letter. I’m sorry to be a little late in replying, but I had a family portrait commission that had to be finished by yesterday.
“I still find it hard to believe that my younger brother—I almost wrote ‘little brother’—is a councilor and married to someone as beautiful and remarkable as Avraal—”
“She really wrote that?”
“Word for word.
“You two really are a golden couple. I do worry that you will become targets. I mean real targets, not just political targets. I’ve overheard enough in doing portraits to see how marks corrupt people, especially Commercers. Maybe it’s just that people who can be corrupted tend to be Commercers, or that the talents that make someone a success in business, and sometimes politics, lead more easily into corruption.
“I will paint a wedding portrait for you two, even if I have to take the ironway to Machtarn to do it, but I’ll let you get settled before I show up. From what I read in the newssheets, just being a councilor right now is unsettling enough. The other unsettling thing is the weather. We had ice rains last week that pretty much destroyed all the late crops and the fall fruit. Sheralla’s husband is a produce factor, and he says that with the weather damage prices are bound to go up…”
From there the letter went into news about their parents and a few friends.
When Dekkard finished reading, he looked to Avraal.
“I love your sister. She thinks a lot of you.”
“I think highly of your sister, and she thinks highly of you.”
“Now that we’ve agreed on that,” said Avraal, “and that everyone agrees that we’re targets, it might be a good idea to head for bed.”
Dekkard smiled. Avraal hadn’t mentioned sleep.
And after that tomorrow would come, no matter what.