''And what is done, Mr. Montoya?''
''Oh, that.'' Jack actually seemed embarrassed. ''Since you are no longer the Prime Minister's daughter, you don't rate protection. Therefore, I was recalled and reassigned to the new Prime Minister's youngest daughter.''
Kris glanced at her watch, something she could do faster than asking Nelly what time it was. ''When's your next shift?''
''I declined the reassignment and am on terminal leave,'' Jack said briskly. ''I'll rescind my resignation when your father is reelected, Princess, but Tilly Pandori is a real snot, and I'll be damned if I'll take a bullet for her.''
Having spent too many hours listening to the daughter of the opposition leader drone on and on at parties, Kris couldn't object to Jack's tastes. But it was the first evidence she'd had that his professionalism had its limits.
It also left her wondering if there wasn't more to Jack being at her side than, well, Jack being ordered to be there.
Time to change that topic.
''Am I really being charged with misappropriation of government property?'' Kris struggled to keep her voice calm … and almost succeeded. ''That bloody mission to that swamp cost me a small fortune.'' Not to mention her life … almost… twice.
''Must be true,'' Jack said. ''Pearson was on all the talk shows saying so. She has printouts to prove it. Was waving them, though she didn't let anyone get a close look at them.''
All Kris could do was shake her head. ''No good deed goes unpunished. Yes, I took a solid tax deduction for the money I donated, but the idea that I'd stooped to stealing the rice, beans, and survival biscuits we shipped to those starving farmers… While getting shot at for the privilege… Nelly, how's the Ruth Edris Fund for Displaced Farmers doing on Olympia? Are we still sending them money each month?''
''No, Kris. There are now more local donations coming in than money going out. I asked the board of directors to consider either closing it or coming up with proposals for investing the money in low-interest loans to help folks start up small businesses or homestead on abandoned farmland. They like that idea and will get back to you with a business proposal that may involve rechartering the fund as a credit union.''
''Well, if Pearson plans to try this thing in the court of public opinion while my father is in a run for his political life, Nelly, you better drop a note to Ester or Jeb and ask them to arrange some interviews with their local Olympia media. Maybe some with the ministers, priests, and rabbis we worked with, too.''
Grampa Trouble shook his head. ''Girl, a nice canned interview in some podunk place fifty light-years away won't count for much when the other side's got people running from talk show to talk show right here.''
''Hold it, Nelly,'' Kris said, knowing that Grampa was right, and she'd never have needed a reminder if she wasn't so tired. ''Send a check to cover four or five tickets and per diem for folks, and ask Ester if she could get some volunteers to come.''
''You paying their way won't look all that good,'' Jack said.
''So, if I don't, I look bad. If I do, I look lousy. Give me a break. Some breakfast, a nap, a shower, not necessarily in that order. This is about the worst morning I've ever had.''
''If that Pearson woman wasn't your boss on that rain-sodden planet, maybe you could have who was speak for you,'' Grampa said.
''Colonel Hancock was my CO, and I reported directly to him. He had as few people as possible report to Pearson.''
''Sounds like a smart man,'' was high praise from Grampa.
''Colonel Hancock,'' Jack said slowly.
''Yes,'' Kris said with a nod. ''Lieutenant Colonel James T. Hancock, SHMC.''
''Oh, him!'' Grampa Trouble shook his head. ''The opposition's talk show hosts will be foaming at the mouth to get him on as your character witness.''
''Am I missing something?'' Jack said, looking away from where the car was taking them. ''I should think a Marine Colonel would be a perfect character witness.
''Not a Colonel found not guilty, but not innocent either, of using machine guns for crowd control,'' Trouble said.
''Oh, that Colonel Hancock,'' Jack said and looked away. ''Maybe you could arrange for him to praise Pearson.''
Grampa Trouble's silence said all Kris needed to hear.
''I think there's a good reason why he's still on Olympia and probably will remain there until he sinks into the swamp. There are other folks who were on Olympia with me. There's Tom. He was with me at the warehouse. He saw what was going on.''
''The Tom who's getting married at the house?'' Jack asked. ''Kitchen crew is real excited about baking the wedding cake.''
Hmm, maybe Tom didn't look all that unbiased at the moment.
''Well, we've got a week,'' Kris concluded.
''Maybe not,'' Nelly said. ''I have been examining the news, Kris, and I think the media is engaging in what is called a ‘feeding frenzy.' Would you like to sample some of the news?''
Now it was Kris's turn to glance at Grampa and raise a quizzical eyebrow. ''Is it that bad?''
''I believe the opposition intends to try you in the media and hang your father from your highest yardarm. Or something equally nautical.''
Kris said a word princesses aren't supposed to know and settled back into her seat
They dropped Grampa Trouble off at his town house, which was good, because the entrance to Nuu House was a media circus. News trucks and cameras besieged the entrance to the compound. Only the locking gate and eight-foot-tall brick wall… and the not-so-visible security systems above it kept the media outside. Kris faced straight ahead as she rode through the barrage, trusting the car's armor to stop anything really dangerous.
It was only as Jack drove the short distance to the mansion's front entrance that she remembered Penny and Tom were supposed to drop by this morning to talk about their wedding plans. Poor Tommy, having to make it through that rabble. She hoped he hadn't cut and run. She wanted to know how the rest of the squadron was taking her arrest.
The doors to Nuu House opened automatically at her approach, leaving her facing the last person in the world she wanted to bother with at this moment.
Father!
William Longknife, Billy to his millions of intimates, stormed toward Kris, a hurricane in full blow, his face redder than Kris remembered it this early in the morning. Had he already been at the wine cabinet?
Trailing Father across the spiraling black and white tiles of the foyer was his political shadow, Honovi. Kris pitied her older brother his chosen fate, though he seemed to be succeeding fairly well at following in their father's political footsteps.
For her part, Kris had run off to space to avoid the family's business. If she could, she would have fled farther. At the moment, it looked like she hadn't run nearly far enough.
''What do you think you're doing, young woman?'' Father shouted, halting directly in front of Kris, unblinking eyes demanding an answer. He leaned into her, nose to nose, violating her personal space. Yep, he's been into the wine supply already. Things are bad and headed for worse.
Kris denied the urge to take a step back. Five years ago she would have. A year ago she might have. Not today. She'd faced battleships and assassins. What was a merely angry politician compared to that? But she didn't want a fight. Not now. She weighed her options and chose a non-confrontational one.
''I think I'm looking for breakfast,'' Kris said with as much good cheer as she could muster. ''They didn't finish booking me until after supper last night. I got sprung before breakfast. And, Father, you must look into the temperatures of your prisons. I almost froze last night.''
''I'll do that, Sis, when we get back in office.''
''Don't let her change the subject, Honovi. Kris, what are you doing to my reelection campaign?''