Right now, deFranco might be right. She hoped so.
God, she’d done everything she could think to do, and if she hyped up on stayawakes to try to keep thinking, she’d be increasingly crazier, especially after all the deepstudy she’d done on the AK‑36 case. It was time to let bodily chemistry do what it had to do for a few hours. It was time to get some rest. If they were lucky, they had a few days before Khalid got really upset or really desperate.
There wasHicks, who’d dealt with Defense. She could let him loose, dust him off, reinstate him, give him a chance to be a hero, and hope that resentment didn’t make him a highly irrational personal enemy.
There was Yanni, whom she couldn’t reach. There was deFranco, whom she could. DeFranco–if she knew how to read deFranco–was a resource she could use freely; except it was one without a crosscheck: she either believed deFranco’s assessment wholesale or she didn’t. She could ask department heads like Wendy Peterson and John Edwards, and Ivanov, who’d at least been around as long as Yanni.
But people that really knew what had been going on with Defense, long‑term–that was Hicks; and Kyle, who wasn’t on Reseune’s side at the moment.
And…there was Jordan Warrick.
She ought to go to bed. She ought to fall in and go to sleep and stay there pending the next alarm. But the brain was going to stay active.
And she had enough energy left to get up, leave the apartment, and walk across the hall–Catlin and Florian were both on errands, she didn’t even alert Theo or Jory, and it was one of a few times in her life she’d left where she lived without one or the other of them.
She knocked at Justin’s door. And Justin answered it.
“Ari.” Eyes flicked to the hall. The missing escort.
“I need Jordan,” she said. “I need to talk to him. I need what he knows. I need you to go with me. Khalid’s not attacking us yet, but the whole Council’s coming here on the twelfth, deFranco’s just come in for refuge, and there’s Kyle downstairs, who I’m afraid I’ll kill if I try to deal with him. I don’t even know if it will do any good, but it’s what we cando, while we’re sitting here being a target. I want to know what Jordan knows. I want his help with the case I handed both of you.”
Grant had showed up, at Justin’s shoulder.
Justin started to say something. And then seemed to change his mind. “Come in,” he said somberly. “I’ll get my coat.”
“You said he’s not speaking to you.”
“You’re likely to get the door opened. I want to be there to give him an alternate target. Where’s Florian and Catlin?”
“On an errand,” she said, and that had echoes, way, way back, to the day her predecessor had died. “I can get your Mark and Gerry to come. It’ll be all right. Your father’s not the danger. I think–I don’t know–possibly–possibly Kyle AK is supposed to come after me.”
“God.”
“It’s dead serious, Justin. That’s why I wanted you both on it.”
“And what I read says he’s able to kill, if you want the short summation.” He pulled his coat on. Grant did the same, and Grant took his pocket com and called the downstairs security office, by the sound of it. “Gerry BG,” he said, “Mark. Meet us downstairs.”
She’d been too tired to function. She’d planned to talk to Jordan in the morning. Maybe. If she could talk Justin into it. But now that Justin was in motion, she thought–just do it. Just do it the best way possible, and she went with them, down the hall, down the lift, thinking, How odd, just to walk with somebody, in a safe building. How odd, to trust two people that aren’t staff, that don’t have all safe connections–because Jordan really wasn’t safe.
She did take out her pocket com and call Theo. “If my security asks, I’m with Justin and Grant. I’m going downstairs and over to Wing One. It’s quiet, all’s well, no problems.”
She wasn’t totally surprised when, as they picked up Mark and Gerry, Jory showed up from the lift, out of breath, and added herself to the group; and before they’d reached the security desk at the exit, Florian showed up from the other direction, sweating a little, but perfectly composed.
Then she felt guilty, and touched Florian’s shoulder, and said, “It wasn’t going to be this long or this far.” He was as tired as she was. And it hadn’t been fair.
“Yes, sera,” he said, a little out of breath. And they went on through to Wing One, herself, Florian, Justin, Grant, Mark and Gerry, and Jory, all of them into the dim storm tunnel of Wing One, and into the lift, and up again.
“Let me,” Ari said, and went and pressed the button at Jordan’s door. “Ser. Jordan Warrick.”
There was some delay about it. Then the door opened. Paul was there.
“He says he’s going to take a shower, sera, I’m sorry. Justin–” Seeing Justin and Grant just behind her, and the security, he hesitated.
“He can wait about the shower,” Justin said. “Paul. Now.”
“Come in, sera,” Paul said, and she walked in and all of them walked in. It might not be the best thing to do. It likely wasn’t. But she wasn’t going to tell Florian to stay outside. Ari felt his presence right at her back. And Jory’s. Mark and Gerry were there, the whole lot of them.
They waited. Paul came back again, and this time Jordan walked out, in his bathrobe.
“So?” Jordan said.
“That file I sent you,” Ari said. “I know you’ve got an opinion.”
Jordan drew himself up and folded his arms, staring at her. “This isn’t the way I do consultation. Try tomorrow. Without them.”
“You read the file. You recognized it.”
“I recognize the type.” His voice was edged with anger. But restrained, and he shot a glance past her, full of fury. Then back. “What, did you think I wouldn’t?”
“That set’s older than I am by a bit.” She cast a nod over her shoulder. “Older than Justin is, or Grant. They’ve never worked with the military sets. But you have.”
“I studied the mess the War sent us back. We all did. As I’m sure you know, since you get into every damned thing you like.”
“If I had everything you know, I wouldn’t have to ask. You worked with the Defense sets.”
“As a student. You’re talking about ancient history.”
“You consulted with them. You talked with them. You wrote one very good paper.”
“Several.”
She thought about the next question. Florian and Jory were there, if anything untoward happened. Mark and Gerry were. She didn’t think Justin would side with Jordan if he went for her.
She said, “Did you know an azi named Kyle, who worked with Giraud?”
Brows lilted slightly. “Alpha. Is that who this file is about?”
“Yes. Did you think he’d been axed?”
A little delay. She wasn’t dealing with the son of a bitch Jordan, the opaque stare. Calculation was quick and sharp. “You’re saying he wasn’t. He’s still alive?”
“He was, according to records, a Fleet Alpha Supervisor. And no, the code didn’t take. After which he had access to Abban, among others Giraud had in his office. He was still working for Defense. Defense was talking to you about breaking with Reseune. Ari found out and pulled you home. Defense knew that my existence was a possibility–knew that from you andfrom Giraud’s office. Knew that Ari didn’t have that long anyway. Youwere there with a grudge that was provable. Perfect vector for suspicion. Giraud had been in Novgorod, talking with Defense. So had Abban. So had Kyle, just one of the aides.”
“Bloody hell. This is a fucking setup. Get out of here.” He waved an arm toward Justin. “Get himout of here. Get away from me!”
“No,” Paul said, from over by the bar counter. “ No.”
“The hell” Jordan said, and turned and walked out of the room.
Paul still stood there, facing them, Paul immaculately dressed, very steady. “Sera,” he said, “Justin, Grant.” A little dip of the head, “Jordan and I need to talk. We are goingto talk. If you’d please call him in the morning.”