Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
RISK
Riann’s office might as well be vacant.
There’s nothing in this room that shows anything of his personality. There’s not even a loose pen on the desk or recycling in the bin. No wonder he and Kilo rub each other the wrong way.
“I’m starting to feel like you all draw straws when it’s time to see me. And this time, you got the short one,” Riann says as he turns to me.
“I came because it was convenient.”
“And you came instead of sending a message, because…?” His brows are quirked in amusement, not irritation.
“Because you’re going to tell me that what I want isn’t available to me. But that’s a lie.”
His smile disappears. “Is that so?”
I nod. “Don’t worry. I know you’re not going to lie to me because you want to.”
“Then why are you here? If you know it’s not available.”
“Because I don’t need you to show me the information. I just need you to know what the answer is. We can go from there.”
Taking a deep breath, Riann turns to his screens, tapping through a half dozen other commands, and then closes out of three programs before turning back to me.
“How can the Continental Security Service help the brotherhood today?”
That is a rote piece of script he was taught when he first joined the CSS, and he hates it. I manage to keep my amusement from reaching my face.
“There’s an article on the nexus I can’t open. At first, I thought it was corrupted, but it’s a very clumsy way to redact it without making those who know about it realize it’s been pulled by you.”
“By me?”
I wave my hand. “By the CSS.”
He looks at me for a long moment, and I know there are at least five questions he’d like to ask. He doesn’t ask any of them, though. “What article is it?”
I give him the information. He taps out a string of commands. Scowls. Taps out yet more commands.
“I’m sorry. That information is unavailable.”
I smile instead of telling him I know. “Who pulled it?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Tipping my head to the side, I search for the information, and it still doesn’t come to me.
“Who last accessed it? Maybe I should talk to them.”
He shakes his head. “That is someone with high enough clearance that it’s not even listed in the file.”
These were not the dead ends I expected.
“Why would the conservation efforts for a now-extinct species be classified?”
“It’s not classified.”
Brows pinched, I lean forward, placing my hands on his pristine desk, near to his. “Then why can’t I access it?”
He looks past me to the door and says, “I can’t tell you that.”
But he wants to…
“The CSS does everything we can to ensure the safety of the continent’s citizens.
Unfortunately, sometimes that means decisions are made by people far above my position, and their reasonings aren’t shared with me.
” He pushes a slip of clear film out from under his hands and then sits back in his chair.
“Maybe you can find answers elsewhere. Have you tried the library?”
As soon as I touch the film, I know what it is.
“I had not considered that. When I have time, I’ll stop by. Thank you.”
“Now,” he taps a few keys, “if you don’t mind, I have a meeting I am going to be late for.”
“Of course. Thank you for your time.”
Film stuffed in my pocket, I leave his office and the building too.
I don’t look at the card until I’ve parked in Margot’s lot. There’s an appointment slot printed in holographic ink. His appointment. And someone will be waiting for him, so when he gets here we won’t have much time.
But it is the one place no one would bat an eye at the both of us visiting after that meeting. It’s been a while since I’ve come to Margot’s, but my membership is still valid, so all doors open for me.
It’s loud, as always. The room is stuffed full of men waiting for the next dance or to be collected by one of the women who work here.
“Hello gorgeous,” Margot leans on the bar, studying me with sharply intelligent eyes beneath neon pink lashes. “Didn’t expect to see you around any time soon.”
“Didn’t expect to be here.”
“Which menu are you ordering off tonight?” She smiles at me, and we both know there’s a wrong answer.
I ask her for a drink and tip the dancer without watching her.
“So.” Margot leans on the bar, watching me a little too closely. “How is your mate doing?”
“She’s healing.”
Her teeth are bright white beneath her black lipstick. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“After you’ve made that official, bring her in for the full tour. Blackout notwithstanding, I like the way she dances. Everyone else would too.”
She’s called away by someone else, and I watch her go for a brief moment before I look at the door and the irritated CSS officer walking my way.
But he doesn’t come to me, he goes to a table tucked away to one side. I follow.
“Margot’s is the one place where you can be certain no one else is listening, and I don’t think our conversation is going to draw her interest.”
I don’t correct him. Everything draws her interest.
He sits in the chair, looking at the woman dancing there without actually watching her.
“Here’s what I can tell you, but that they wouldn’t want me to. The reason I can’t tell you about that article or anything related to the contents therein, is the same reason I couldn’t tell Jessica who the man was that… interacted with her at the zurgle cafe.”
“Is he your boss?”
“No.”
He’s not anyone in the CSS, not technically.
“We work for him, he doesn’t work for us.” He glares at a man who walks past. “Officially, he works with us.”
“Does this have something to do with the ship crashing?”
He nods. When he looks back at me I feel an ill-ease. “There’s a thread that connects all of this to you.”
He means to the brotherhood and the Zone.
His jaw tenses. “So little of what has happened since Laurel went home with Richter has been a mistake.”
“Someone manufactured the mix up?” I didn’t know that.
“Yes. The Agency handoff files were temporarily altered.”
“The Agency was hacked?”
He grimaces, and I don’t like the irritation on his face. “No. It was a person with permissions and clearances. They were told to change the file and then told to change it back again.”
“That sounds like a mistake.” But it isn’t. “Has anyone told you that the third Ardem sister is here?”
He looks at me but has to hold his tongue when a waitress swings by to drop off a drink for him with a wink.
“That is not public knowledge at the moment,” I continue. “The Agency knows, because she works for them and… well, we’re keeping that quiet until we can figure out who brought her here and why.”
“She was the sole survivor from the crash.” Riann doesn’t wait for my confirmation. He just looks confused and asks, “What does that have to do with the filloum?”
“Probably nothing. But we won’t know if we don’t explore all the options. I figure if we dig into every question, we might get lucky.”
“Luck might be on your side today… if Margot’s appointment schedule is correct.”
I don’t like that the CSS has a full history of who’s made appointments, but I don’t tell him. I’m sure he knows. I ask a much more important question.
“Is he here?”
“He had an appointment. I hoped when he came out I could…” He mimes pointing with his head.
“You can’t tell me his name?”
“I could, but I won’t. Because if you accidentally let it slip to anyone else, I’m the one they’ll look at and this guy…” He looks back at the stage. “This guy is not someone you want looking in your direction.”
“Then why does he work with the CSS? If he’s not safe…”
“Because he’s always worked with us. He’s a founding member of the CSS. He wrote half of our codes and designed several of our systems… Despite not being on payroll, he is the CSS. Even if some of us don’t think he should be anymore.”
I don’t think I’ve seen anyone this scared since—
“There he is. Blue coat, headed toward the door.” Riann looks through the crowded space, but all I can see is the back of the man’s head.
“Friendly conversation won’t hurt anyone.”
“It might,” he says, before downing the rest of his drink. “If anyone asks, you didn’t see me after you left my office.”
“See who?”
“Exactly.” He leaves like he didn’t want to be here in the first place, headed for the appointment I’ve made him late for.
Leaving my untouched drink on the table, I go after the mystery man.
But I don’t get far.
“Why does it feel like you’re stalking one of my patrons?” Margot asks, popping up seemingly out of nowhere.
“Because I am.” I step around her. “Excuse me.”
She shoves herself right back in front of me. “I will not.”
“I need to talk to that man.”
“What man?”
“The one who’s leaving.”
“If you can’t tell me his name, I can’t let you.” I look past her and watch the doors to the elevator close.
“We all have secrets, Risk. And it’s my job to protect my clients.”
“Third.”
Her head pulls back and her brows twist. “What?”
“That’s third on your priority list.”
“It’s still part of the job.”
There’s nothing I can say to her that she’ll accept, but, “You can’t keep me here when I want to leave.”
Glaring at me, she steps out of the way. “Whatever you’re doing, don’t do it here again.”
I ignore that warning. She hasn’t banned me, but if I took the time to tell her what was going on, she still wouldn’t help me.
When the elevator opens, I step out and scan the parking lot. No movement. No cars opening or closing, no one leaving…
I squint, looking for any sign of him, but he’s gone. And a crawling sensation settles over me. I don’t know for certain, but something makes me think I won’t find him again until it’s too late.
CHRYS
Kissu comes into the bathroom where I’m inspecting the last of my lingering bruises.
“Hello,” I say, slightly holding out a hand like I would for a cat.
Knowing he understands me but not being able to understand him is almost as strange as having a pet lion.
I cannot think of him as anything else.
He bites to take hold of my sweater and tugs. “What is it? Is Arc down the well again?”
Kissu huffs and tugs again.