The Assassin's Salvation (Mandrake Company) (22 page)

Hazel snorted but didn’t comment on how easy that should be for him. The tracker was cheerfully chomping gum and watching, as if this were the most exciting show on the ship. At this late hour, maybe it was.

“If we were the only people who applied for the job, and it was clear Ja—Ms. Flipkens had the knowledge, we figured we’d be hired and then taken to the island on one of Laframboise’s personal transports. Research tells us she shoots anyone unauthorized who tries to land on her island.”

“She could
try
to shoot the
Albatross
,” Commander Garland growled. He must have shared Mandrake’s vision of going down there and attacking openly.

“Once on the island and hopefully in Laframboise’s house itself,” Sergei went on, “I would leave Ms. Flipkens somewhere safe, then go in and… convince the woman to remove the bounty on Captain Mandrake’s head.”

“
Convince
her, eh?” Sergeant Tick winked. “Like with a dagger slid between the ribs and into a critical organ?”

“Bounties are removed from the guild bulletin board when it’s clear that the host party can no longer make the payment.”

“On account of fatally perforated critical organs?” Tick asked.

Sergei spread his hands. He might not say so outright—not with Sergeant Hazel sitting over there, doubtlessly prepared to comment on the ethics of assassins—but he wasn’t going to deny that he intended to kill the woman. Before, it had simply been a matter of helping Mandrake with a problem. After one of Laframboise’s thugs had mauled Jamie, Sergei would relish killing the woman.

For once, Hazel wasn’t frowning at him. “I wouldn’t mind perforating that woman right now too,” she said.

“Yeah. You taking any muscle along to help, Zharkov?” Tick slapped the back of his hand against Mandrake’s chest. “We can’t have anyone out there trying to kill our cap’n here. System wouldn’t be nearly so sunny and cheerful without him.”

Mandrake eyed Tick’s hand and gave him a flat look. Tick smirked.

“Unless you know something about robot repair, I don’t know how we could take more people,” Sergei said.

“I fixed a robot once,” Tick said.

Mandrake gave him another flat stare. “Using a piece of chewing gum to secure a loose battery unit isn’t
fixing
something.”

“I don’t see how not.”

Sergei wouldn’t care if more people came down in the shuttle and waited on the government island for backup, but he didn’t want anyone else trying to sneak in with him. He preferred to work alone; he couldn’t trust others to be as quiet and circumspect when infiltrating the enemy fortress. Or palace, as it was more likely to be. “It’ll be sketchy enough getting myself invited along based solely on my ability to hand Ms. Flipkens wrenches and parts convincingly.”

“Any of our engineers would be qualified for the job,” Mandrake pointed out.

“The opening is only for two people.”

“One of which must be you. But one of my combat-trained engineers would be a better choice to go along with you on the mission than a twenty-year-old girl.”

Sergei sank back in the chair. Oh.
That
was what Mandrake was angling for.

Sergei’s first instinct was to reject the notion outright, to point out that this had all been Jamie’s plan. But she had come up with it when she and he were the only ones working on getting to the bottom of this bounty mess. Jamie might not even want to go back down to the planet now, and who could blame her? Besides that, Mandrake had a point. A more experienced man would be better if a fight broke out. Even if Sergei planned to leave Jamie somewhere safe, such as in the kitchen, tinkering with the dishwashing robots they would be there to handle, there was always the possibility that something would go wrong. What if Laframboise figured out who she was, and that Jamie had been present when her buddy—lover—Felgard had been killed?

“She’s somewhat combat-trained now,” Hazel said, smiling. “According to Thomlin’s men.”

Mandrake grunted. “She almost got speared by one of those bounty hunters less than an hour ago.”

Sergei straightened, affronted by the suggestion that Jamie could have clobbered that thug if she had more training. “Those bounty hunters were giving
you
some trouble when I walked into sickbay, sir. One of them, anyway.”

Mandrake’s eyebrows twitched.

“Judging by the one I fought, they were very well trained,” Sergei said.

“The one you took out in three seconds?” Hazel asked. Apparently, Ankari had given a thorough accounting of what had happened in the grow room, after all.

“I’m well trained too,” Sergei said tightly.

“I’m not belittling her,” Mandrake said. “I just don’t see why you want to take a young civilian when you can have a trained mercenary. Commander Borage could make you a robot from twigs, spit, and piss.”

“Commander Borage, the sixty-year-old, gray-haired chief of engineering?” Sergei asked. “Who’s going to believe someone like that is applying for an entry-level job?”

“Lieutenant Chang or Howler then.”

“Look, can I talk to her about it first?” Sergei asked, then grimaced, realizing Jamie might not want to talk to him for quite some time. “Or ask Ankari to talk to her about it? If she doesn’t want to go, I’m fine with picking someone else, but quite frankly, if the person doing the hiring is male, all she’ll have to do is smile at him to get the job. Beauty aside, she’s clever and comes up with ideas quickly. I’ve been working with her this last week, too, so I know her better than I know any of your engineers. This was her plan. I’d hate to just shove her to the side now.” He was speaking quickly and saying a lot, wasn’t he? Trying too hard? He gripped the edge of the table with his hands, bracing himself in case someone accused him of letting his feelings get in the way. To think, just over a week ago, he had been wondering if Mandrake was letting Ankari have too much influence over him and the company.

Hazel and Tick exchanged long looks, but didn’t say anything. Good.

“Fine,” Mandrake said. “It’s your mission. We have to make our delivery to the planet tomorrow, so I’ll be busy down there. Talk to her. See if she’s in. If not, let me know who you want to go with you.” He waved toward the door, signaling the end of the meeting.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Mandrake showed his appreciation for Sergei’s gratitude in his usual way, by grunting and walking out.

Tick and Garland followed him out the door. Surprisingly, Sergeant Hazel lingered. Probably to tell him not to take Jamie into a dangerous situation. He had released the table and gotten to his feet, so he didn’t have anything nearby to grab to brace himself.

Hazel walked over and faced him, her chin up as she met his eyes squarely. “Look, Zharkov, I’m not good at this.”

“Er, what?”

She looked to the side, a hint of exasperation in her exhale, then met his eyes again. “Apologizing. It looks like neither of you had anything to do with the attacks, and the captain said… Well, I have a feeling I’ll never know the whole story, but he said he trusts you and has all along.”

The tension seeped out of Sergei’s body. Mandrake had said that? That he trusted Sergei? That he’d never had any doubt?

“I
do
think you should listen to him and choose someone else for your mission,” Hazel added. “You’re letting your feelings get in the way of logical thinking here.” Ah, there was the chastisement he had expected earlier. Somehow, it didn’t sting as much now. “Chang or Howler would be better choices here,” she said. “Either one of them can take care of himself. And if you truly care about Jamie, wouldn’t you rather have her up here, somewhere safe, while you’re running around killing people? She’s already dealt with enough, and she doesn’t need to see that.”

Sergei lowered his gaze to the table, staring at those whorls in the worn wood boards again. He hated to admit it, but mumbled, “You’re probably right.” And maybe by the time he went down, completed the mission, and came back, Jamie would have forgotten his utter fumble in the grow room. Or she would have at least recovered from the trauma of the whole experience. She was resilient—as she had shown after the spa experience. She might be able to forgive him and laugh about it in a couple of days.

“Of course I am,” Hazel said. “One other thing. When you get back to the ship, ask her on a
date
, will you? See if she’s interested. Quit stalking around after her, radiating lust.”

His head snapped up. “I wasn’t doing that.”

“Please, you’re lucky she was too naive to notice, or she would have been scared you were going to jump her in an alley. And find a way to work some of that off before asking her for coffee.”

Sergei had to unclench his jaw to say, “Has anyone mentioned how appealing your raw bluntness is?”

“Not very often.”

“There’s a reason.”

Hazel snorted and headed for the door, thumping him on the shoulder on the way by.

When he was alone, Sergei took a deep breath and shook out his arms, forcing himself to relax. Hazel’s blunt opinions might not be pleasant to hear, but he had to admit she was right on that point, as well. He ought to be pleased that she had stopped treating him like a leper. Hell, she had apologized to him. Who would have expected that? And she hadn’t forbidden him to pursue Jamie again. She probably still thought he was too old and… lust-radiating for her, but she hadn’t said it. Hazel’s opinion shouldn’t matter, but for some reason, he found this new development freeing.

Too bad Jamie didn’t want anything to do with him at the moment. He sighed and headed for his cabin. It was late, and he should probably get some sleep, but Hazel’s idea of working off lust had some merit.

* * *

After being patched up by the doctor, Jamie should have headed for her cabin, but Lauren had gone to bed, and Jamie craved privacy. The doctor had injected her with a contraceptive along with his ministrations, saying only, “Just in case,” as if he expected Jamie to encounter thugs who wanted to rape her every week and wouldn’t be so lucky to escape next time.

The doctor’s presumption disturbed her. More than that, emotions she had been struggling to sublimate all night welled near the surface. Privacy, yes. She needed privacy. She headed for the shuttle bay, almost jogging by the time she reached the door.

The lighting was dimmed for night, so she assumed nobody else was around. The illumination flared to full when she walked in. She would have preferred the dark, but she could leave the lights out in the shuttle. She climbed the ramp and started for the pilot’s seat, but it still felt too open, too vulnerable. She slipped through the curtain and into the clinic, moving around the patient bed to the end of the counter. She wedged herself into a niche between it and a chair and finally felt safe in the tight cubby.

With her back to the wall, she sat on the floor. She curled her legs to her chest, ordered the lights off, and let herself release a long, shuddering breath. Tears burned her eyes, and she didn’t bother holding them back, not this time.

She had never been the crier in the family—that distinction belonged to her youngest sister, who could bawl on demand. But Jamie couldn’t manage stoicism anymore. Between the doctor’s shot, the hateful things Delgado’s buddy had said, and the attack from the assassin, she was surprised she hadn’t collapsed sooner.

She felt more homesick than she had at any time since leaving, and not for the first time since coming aboard the
Albatross
, she missed her father’s protection. She had never appreciated it as a teenager, but there were so many people on this ship she wished he could punch. Her plan to go back to school returned to her mind, but at the moment, she was more interested in going home. She wondered what Ankari and Lauren would say if she asked to find a transport back to Mercruse and forget the business and the mercenary ship for a good long while.

At first, the tears seeped down her cheeks in silence, but before long she was drawing in long shuddering breaths and bawling for real for the first time since her mom had died. She was glad she hadn’t tried to do this from her bunk—she surely would have woken up Lauren and been forced to explain. She didn’t want to explain anything to anyone.

The light level increased, and Jamie lifted her head from her knees, groaning softly. Nobody was looking for her
now
, were they? She had told Ankari everything she knew in sickbay.

Footsteps sounded on the ramp. Jamie wiped her eyes, holding back another groan. She didn’t want anyone to stumble across her. She didn’t want to be caught with her eyes all puffy. There would be questions she didn’t want to answer. She dropped her head atop her knees again, willing whoever it was to continue past the curtained area, to pick up some forgotten item, then leave.

But what if it was Sergei? And he had come looking for her? She wasn’t ready to see him. Later, she would think about that whispered proclamation of love, but she couldn’t process it tonight.

The footsteps trod past the clinic, and nobody pushed aside the curtain to look in. It wasn’t Sergei, she realized. She wouldn’t have
heard
his soft footfalls.

Someone plopped into one of the chairs in front of the control panel. Ankari? Who else would come down to the shuttle?

Jamie’s guess was verified a moment later, when Ankari yawned and listened to a message left by some Senator Fung Peng from the planet. It must have been office hours on whatever cloud city the woman lived on, because Ankari returned the call. Jamie closed her eyes, tuning out the business-related inquiry, assuming Ankari would finish soon and leave. Then Jamie would have her isolation again.

“Tomorrow?” Ankari asked. “I’ll see what we can do and confirm with you in the morning here. We’re back up in orbit at the moment.”

“Very well,” the other woman said. “Good day.”

Ankari cut the comm. “Day. Right.” She yawned again.

Footsteps sounded again, not from Ankari but from someone else walking across the bay. Jamie kept her face buried in her knees, willing them all to go away. Wasn’t it after midnight, ship’s time?

Ankari’s footsteps sounded as she headed for the hatch. Good.