Authors: Michele Drier
The State Department didn’t want any upset in the fabric of treaties and agreements that kept oil flowing and allies true.
“We don’t want to take a stance that will raise hackles, but we need to have entities understand that there is freedom to pursue what we see as a legitimate story.” The Baron turned to one of the attorneys, a button-down Englishman who, I suspected, had given his rolled umbrella to Josef as he came in.
“Yes, Baron, that is a fine line we need to walk. And it’s more complicated by the nature of your company. The United States doesn’t have any direct authority over you, but you want to be sure you respond as a concerned business. I don’t think there’s any trace of libel here. The people in the clip are public figures and the party was an official function. I think just a note of apology to State and one to the Azerbaijanis should be enough.” The solicitor took a bite of roast beef, a proper British meal the staff had put together.
“What if we want to pursue a story about that part of the world?” I don’t like people telling me to back off.
“We might want to contact another U.S. media company. One that’s more attuned to finding and reporting on touchy stories.” Jean-Louis glanced at me with a look that said “Stop right there!”
True, we weren’t a media company that dug for hard stories. We didn’t have a staff of hundreds of investigative reporters. We had employees who looked good in front of the camera, who could write a thirty second story about a celebrity and pull the appropriate clip, who could spot fashion and entertainment trends, who knew which paparazzi could be relied on.
Looking for links between U.S. allies and trading partners was miles from our comfort zone and I acknowledged this with a small nod to Jean-Louis.
The attorneys were going back to London on one of the Baron’s planes, so we said good-byes, good-nights and ta-tas.
Then we started talking.
Was this going to make any difference in our coverage? Was this going to affect our Kiev bureau? Was this going to add fuel to the Huszars fire? Did this have any influence on their new cottage industry of contract killings?
“I think a note of apology to the Azerbaijanis and another one the State Department is in order.” The Baron took Pen’s hand, a gesture of intimacy that I seldom saw between them. I guessed if you’d been together as a couple for more than 400 years, you knew what your partner felt and constant contact wasn’t necessary, still it gave me a warm spot.
“I agree. Our actions and goals in that part of the world don’t need a lot of scrutiny.” Jean-Louis was absently staring at the Baron and Pen’s linked hands. “We need to keep our skirts clean if we plan to bring the Huszars into the fold.”
Keep our skirts clean? Into the fold? Had Jean-Louis turned English on me? I gave him an odd look.
“What?”
“I just wondered where those English expressions came from.”
“Simply because I talk to you in what you Americans insist is the English language, doesn’t mean that I can’t also speak English when I want.”
I was so startled that my eyes got round. I just stared at him.
“Sorry, my love, I didn’t mean to get all shirty—another English expression—with you. I guess the stress of the past two days is showing.”
He turned to the Baron. “On a related note, I spoke with Nikoly today. He’s planning to go home tomorrow.”
“Good, good. Silver poisoning is dangerous. I’m glad we could give him the quiet he needed to recuperate. He’s much too valuable to lose. I suspect if he hadn’t been ill, we could have made a better accommodation about this silly Azerbaijani issue.” The Baron put Pen’s hand in her lap and picked up a glass of Bull’s Blood.
“Is there anything we need to do to follow up on last night’s problem?”
Problem? The Baron called watching a demon being torn apart a problem?
“No. I’ve heard from Karoly. Actually, the attack helped pull any suspicion away from him and Bohdan because they just joined the frenzy when the shapeshifters realized who the pigs’ quarry was. They got kudos from Matthais for being so quick to respond.
“As an aside, the regulars in the village were happy to get the pig carcasses. Wild boar is a treat, but they don’t hunt them much any more. One doesn’t wonder why.”
We adjourned to the media room, watched two editions of SNAP, commented on changes that needed to be made and chatted about the new talent that Mira had found on the beaches of Rio.
Because they operated at such a high level, and kept so many balls in the air, I tended to forget that these three vampires had been the driving force that created an enormous multi-national company .with influence across the globe. This was now, but they were then, putting together the pieces, designing the company, training other family members, hiring staff, learning enough of the technical end that they could oversee it, choosing the celebrities to cover.
As one of the first true celebs, Pen had a long run as a SNAP headliner. I was idly looking at her, wondering if she missed all the adulation and limelight. She shook her head. “That was only one part of my life, my dear.” She smiled. “I have so much, much more. Perhaps some day I’ll share it with you.”
Damn these vampires! I wasn’t sure I’d ever learn to shield my thought from them.
Jean-Louis looked at me and smiled, with an invitation in his eyes. “I don’t want you to shield your thoughts from me. Perhaps it’s time I carried you to your rooms.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Once upstairs, I didn’t shield much from Jean-Louis.
I’d certainly had my shares of affairs, short-time attractions and even a couple of long-term lovers, but I’d never known a man so attuned to my wants as he was. He was the epitome of the Pointer Sisters’ “Slow Hands” and that played in my head for the next hour or so while we made languorous love..
And that night he stayed with me, letting me fall asleep with my arms around him and my head on his chest. Of course he’d had to go to his apartment and sleep through the day, but my body still throbbed from his touch.
The realies hit when I woke the next afternoon. Elise was standing beside me. “Maxie, Maxie.” Her voice was soft but insistent and dragged me back from that deep well of pleasure to, “Francois is on the phone. He is adamant.”
“Francois? Why is he awake? All right, all right, I’m up. Can you please get me some coffee?”
Elise usually was eager to please, but today she gave me a waspish look and nodded at the steaming cup on my desk.
Oops. I threw on a sleep-shirt and grabbed the phone. “Francois? What’s so urgent that got both of us out of bed early?”
“Maxie, we need to go to Poland.”
“That got you up in the daylight? Poland? And what’s this ‘we’ business?”
I could hear him chewing his nails across the communication satellites.
“Things are exploding there. We need, you and I, to get there soonest and smooth it out.”
“OK, I can be there tomorrow...”
“No, no, we must get there tonight! The Ludvoc designers have pulled all our press credentials for the showings tomorrow! We have them slotted in as the anchor for the French edition tomorrow night and the centerpiece of this week’s magazine!”
“Oh, for God’s sake! What happened?”
“I don’t know. My office got a call a couple of hours ago about it. They debated waking me, but finally knew they had to. I’ve called three times, and Elise kept saying ‘She’s sleeping’! What’s going on? Are you on vampire time?”
“No, I fell and twisted my ankle, so took a pain pill.” He didn’t need to know what else kept me up late last night, that was way TMI.
“I’m almost ready. A car is picking me up and one of the planes is waiting at Orly. I’ll meet you at the private terminal in Krakow with a car.”
“I can be ready to go in less that half-an-hour. Where are we staying? How long do you expect we’ll have to be there?”
“We’re staying in Krakow and I’d think two days at the outside. If we can’t get it fixed early tomorrow, we’ve got to drop back to something else. I already have the staff here pulling prepared stories and searching clips, just in case.”
“Krakow? Ludvoc Designs is in Warsaw.”
“Yep, but they thought that having their new spring collection shown against the places in the older city would stress Poland’s long history while they’re also a current leader in the fashion world.”
There weren’t many loopy ideas that fashion designers would throw out. Anything to get themselves known, and get them a leg up, in the high-fashion, high-dollar world of international dressing. Well, not strictly dressing. This world was far above the one populated by people who put clothes on to keep warm.
“Fine, I’ll get Sandor to make the arrangements and I’ll see you later this evening. By the way, I’m still limping a little, so running isn’t part of the game. Maybe the Poles will take pity on me. I’ll bring my cane.”
Elise doesn’t really eavesdrop, but hears enough that she anticipates. By the time I’d hung up and was limping my way to the bathroom, she laid out a cashmere dress with a slightly flared skirt and a matching jacket for traveling and was packing a bag.
“I think two business suits and one long dress should do it.” I was stripping for a shower.
“Yes. I’ll pack the black Chanel gown. I think the Poles need to see elegance.” She was busy folding and choosing lingerie when we both stopped and said “Shoes!”
I smiled, she grinned, and put in one more pair of black satin flats. My Gucci’s would have to do for business wear.
“Stick in a pair of sneakers, too. I may be able to get them on tomorrow to a take a quick walk. Sitting around will make me cranky.”
Within 30 minutes, Sandor picked me up and carried me to the waiting limo.
“All is ready. Hermann is with you here.” He indicated another large man all in black, in the passenger’s seat. “Ludwig is waiting at the plane. They will both accompany you.”
He gave me a pleading look, as much as a demon could. “Please do not go away from them. Jean-Louis will be very angry.”
Since Jean-Louis wasn’t even up yet, I realized that this plea was from Sandor, himself. Was he concerned for my skin or just for his? I gave him the benefit of the doubt and agreed that I’d stick with the demons. He was probably watching out for both of us.
The demon Hermann was at the plane and he and Ludwig got me and the small amount of luggage settled, took their seats at the back of the cabin and we were up. It was a short flight, the demons reversed their loading routine, and all of us—Francois, me, Hermann, Ludwig—were in another SNAP Mercedes, heading into the ancient city of Krakow.
I had to hand it to Ludvoc Designs for choosing Krakow as a backdrop for their fashions. Since I’d started hanging around with the Kandeskys, I’d developed a very different sense of time. Back home, things that happened before the Revolutionary War, like the founding of Monterey, were precious few and venerated. Here in Europe, 1775 was practically yesterday so Krakow, founded in 1000, was old but not ancient.
But it was beautifully preserved because the last time it was sacked was in the 13
th
century by the Tartars. It hadn’t suffered much in WWII as Poland was invaded and fell in September 1939. In fact, it was one of Europe’s best-preserved medieval cities, was named a World Heritage Site in the 1970s and was a European City of Culture in 2000.
We had a fast tour of the medieval city center, where the shows would be held beginning the next day, and then bundled into a spacious penthouse that SNAP had reserved.
It was far easier to rent or lease apartments when it was the regular SNAP employees, like me. We just needed a basic hotel space. But traveling with demons and vampires entailed a lot more. Demons didn’t need much in the way of accommodations beyond a secure, locked room for their weapons (a locking bathroom was usually fine) plus a couple of beds.
They always did their own security sweep, slightly more rigorous now that Chechens were in the picture.
But the Kandeskys needed a dedicated place in an interior room with no exterior light. They didn’t travel with coffins, but did have their own pillows and of course their own food. I’d never asked (I thought it was rude) but assumed that the pillows were partially filled with Hungarian soil. And baggage always included at least a case of Bull’s Blood and a couple of ice chests.
Once all was settled, Francois and Hermann left to plot out the best spots for our paparazzi, assuming that we could get our press passes back. I was meeting with the Ludvoc Design group to beg, wheedle, threaten, to find out what happened. That had to start early, because the first runway was scheduled to kick off at dusk, 5:30 p.m., against the lights of the 13
th
century Main Market Square and the 16
th
century facade of the Cloth Hall, two of the most imposing medieval buildings.
And that left Francois a slim slice of time to get all the photographers situated.
He and Hermann came back before midnight and we had a fast Skype conversation with Jean-Louis, filling him in on the plans and sharing a sketch Francois had done of the main runway sites.
“Have you found out why the passes were pulled?” Jean-Louis’ face was grim, his voice all business.
“No.” Francois was glum. “Maxie’s going to meet with the Ludvoc group first thing in the morning.”
“Who are you taking with you?” Jean-Louis was asking me...what? Who were my babysitters? Who would negotiate with the Ludvoc designers? He could see my face screwing up to make a snarky remark.
“Poland isn’t too far afield for the Chechens. You must have at least two demons with you.”
“Maxie,” Francois broke in. “Jean-Louis is right. Plus, this is still an area that respects a strong man and having two bodyguards means you have protection. It’s a sign of your strength and, more importantly, SNAP’s strength, to show up with an entourage.”
“Thank you, Francois. We’ll appeal to her vanity!”