Ryan turned to the speaker. The broad grin had turned into a wry, crooked smile, and the deep brown eyes held a certain intensity Ryan found vaguely disturbing.
"Frag you, Matthews. What's the Secret Service trying to do? Get you killed? If I'd played this differently, you'd be dead, and I'd be up to my short hairs in bureaucratic drek."
Matthews lowered his meaty hands, and dropped the smile as well. "Got to hand it to you, Mercury. You learned everything I taught you, and then just a mite more. Almost made a mess of my suit when I saw that limo come to a stop."
Suddenly Ryan felt tired. More tired than he could ever remember. The adrenaline rush was wearing off, and the shakes were setting in. His shoulder hurt, his gut hurt, and he felt an uneasy nausea creep into his stomach. "Yeah, whatever. I'm just glad this situation didn't get too ugly."
Matthews' smile was grim. "Well, actually, old friend, it's a tad uglier than I think you-"
He was interrupted by the sound of the Eurocar driver's door opening. An ork stepped out, and Ryan watched in mild wonder. For her metatype, she was huge. It seemed like more and more of her just kept coming until Ryan couldn't believe she could possibly have fit into the car in the first place.
Well over two meters, she dwarfed the vehicle, and wore an outfit similar to Matthews. On her, however, it stretched and bulged, showing rippled muscles. She had a deep, ugly scar that stretched from the left corner of her mouth and traveled up to the ruin of her left ear. It looked like one of those wounds that should have killed.
"Ah, Mercury, I'd like you to meet my new partner." Matthews gestured from Ryan to the huge ork. "Mercury, this is Agent Phelps. Phelps, this is the infamous Ryan Mercury. Best student I ever had, even if he doesn't seem to realize it's bad form for the student to show up his teacher."
"New partner?" Ryan grinned. "So Edgefield finally got that elusive Secret Service desk job he kept talking about."
Matthews turned back to Ryan with a slow deliberate motion of his head. The intense look had returned.
Ryan's grin faltered.
"We put Bob in the ground two weeks ago. Had a big memorial service just day before yesterday. Should have been there, Mercury. It was real nice, lots of tears, lots of flowers."
The hair on the back of Ryan's neck started to rise, and some primal warning instinct flared. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."
Matthews arched one eyebrow. "You didn't know? I thought you were more in touch with the dirty underside of things in this fair city."
"I've been out of town for a while."
"You must have been far-side-of-the-solar-system out of town to have missed the trid coverage."
"He died in the assassination explosion?"
Matthews just nodded.
Ryan felt his shoulders sag. "Listen, I'm very sorry about Bob."
"Get the driver out of your vehicle." It was the first time Phelps had spoken, and her deep ork voice dropped into the alley like a sheet of napalm. It was the voice of someone used to command, someone used to having those commands obeyed, and the implied threat in her tone made Ryan smile.
"We're going to wrap this up in a moment, Agent Phelps," Ryan said, "so just relax."
Then, in a movement so swift it was almost a blur, Phelps drew her Czech-made 88V assault rifle. A stubby, ugly weapon under the best of circumstances, the 88V looked even worse from the receiving end.
It took every drop of Ryan's control to stop himself from geeking her with a quick burst from his Ingram. She'd moved fast, surprisingly fast, but he'd caught the tiny back step, the bunching of her neck muscles. He could have dusted her, and almost had, on instinct.
Phelps spoke again, "I'll repeat myself only once. Have your driver step out of the vehicle." This time there was no menace in the tone, and her voice was soft.
Ryan turned to Matthews and gave him a pleading look.
Matthews just shrugged.
Ryan felt the rush of adrenaline hit him again. Instantly, his mind shifted into overdrive. The dumpster was still at his back. He knew he could move faster than the ork could follow. Could be behind cover before she could possibly track him and pull the trigger. Matthews' hands were empty, but Ryan knew that meant nothing. From personal experience Ryan rated Matthews, even open-handed, as a greater threat than the ork.
Once again, he forced himself to relax. He didn't have a beef with the Secret Service, and he wanted to keep it that way.
"Dhin! Step out into the heat. The nice Secret Service lady wants a look at you."
Dhin did as he was told and climbed out of the limo. Ryan noticed that his jacket was unbuttoned, and both hands were a tad far out to his sides. He was ready to rock and roll, and Ryan knew he had to be careful not to give Dhin any false clues, or two nickel-plated Guardian pistols would be blazing.
Ryan turned back to Matthews. "All right, we're playing it your way, now let's cut the drek. Why were you following me? If you wanted to talk-"
Once again, Phelps interrupted. "If you would be so kind as to lose your weapons, Mister Mercury, we would greatly appreciate it."
Ryan looked at Matthews, who turned to Phelps. "Don't push him too hard, Phelps. He could have killed you when you pulled that damn rifle. Probably would have geeked you without even realizing it if he was any more tired. Besides, from what I've seen of him in action, he might be even more dangerous with his hands free. Leave it."
"Agent Matthews, I'm sure you think you're right, but I refer you to Suspect Interrogation Code six-eight-"
Matthews turned to face her, voice tight, angry. "Stow it! You've pushed Mister Mercury's patience, and now you're pushing mine."
Ryan felt the first real twinges of anger tighten the muscles in his shoulders. "Suspect Interrogation? Frag it, Matthews, is that what this is all about? You think I had something to do with Dunkelzahn's… with the assassination?"
Matthews turned back to Ryan. "Calm down, friend. I know how this must sound. I also know how loyal you were to the old wyrm, but you got to understand the Secret Service's predicament here. Somebody killed a dragon, chummer. A fragging great dragon."
Ryan shook his head. "That dragon was the closest thing I had to a father since I was ten. I'd have killed myself before I did anything to harm him."
"You're not getting my point, Mercury. No one can even figure just how the assassin killed President Dunkelzahn, let alone who might have been behind it."
"You're not telling me anything I don't know, Matthews, and you're beginning to slot me off."
Matthews held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Then let me break it down for you. With nothing to go on, we're left with one course of action-investigating anyone or any group with the ability to pull it off."
Ryan nodded. It made a lot of sense. Killing a dragon took more than just motive. It took exceptional talent and resources, magical as well as mundane. It would take cunning and intricate planning. Ryan had been too busy searching for Burnout to do any investigating himself so he had no idea how it had been pulled off.
The fact was, however, that very few people could have executed the assassination. After weeding out all those without the means, the Secret Service would be left with only a select few to investigate.
Matthews' smile was grim. "There are those who say you should head the list."
Ryan looked Matthews in the eye, saw the disturbing questions there, and returned the grim smile. "That's a pretty dubious honor; one I'd just as soon do without."