Skin Deep (15 page)

“Should we pull him in?”

She withdrew a bottle of springwater from the bag. “Not yet. If we pull him in because I sensed he was lying, he’ll think I’m bluffing. I don’t want to tip my empathic ability.”

“He shot you, Laura. Are you comfortable with him getting away with that?”

Even if Terryn couldn’t see her, he had to notice the sly challenge in her voice. “Oh, he’s not going to get away with anything. I want to know why he shot me. I’m going to tail him personally.”

“Another job is the last thing you need. Let’s get a junior operative to tail him,” he said.

She took a swig of the water. “It’s all the same job, Terryn. Just the faces change.”

“Keep me updated,” he said.

“Will do.” She disconnected and removed a boxed lunch from the bag. Starving, she flipped it open. Two small rolled sandwiches of prosciutto with basil and thinly sliced provolone. A small cluster of french fries smelled of truffle oil. She was going to kill Liam for all the salt and starch. But she had asked for “wonderful.”

CHAPTER
13

THE BLACK CAR
dropped Laura off a block from the Russell Senate Office Building. The building contained administrative offices and hearing rooms for the Senate as well as senator’s offices and committee rooms. The Senate was known as the world’s most exclusive men’s club, and a stroll through the corridors confirmed it. Laura had been around long enough to remember when senators were all male and women were their secretaries. High-profile secretaries but still secretaries. More women worked in the building than ever before, but men still held the power. Interns in the building joked that they always knew a women was a senator because she didn’t carry files.

Laura had been a sensation in those days. A woman with the power of the Guildhouse behind her demanded—and received—respect. When she was recruited by the forerunner of InterSec, she’d let go of a rising career as a diplomat and was happy to move into public relations for the Guild. She received the exposure to the politics she enjoyed, without the frustrations of all the political backstabbing. She still dealt with those, but it was not her primary job responsibility.

She ducked into an empty restroom. As she washed and dried her hands, she reabsorbed the essence out of the Mariel glamour. Mariel’s face shifted and faded as Laura Blackstone reappeared. She adjusted her outfit, fixed her hair, and made her way to the elevator.

Despite the surprise, Laura didn’t react when the elevator opened and she saw Sinclair standing inside. In the full car, Sinclair rose head and shoulders above the others. The crowd of people edged back to make room for her. Of course, she ended up standing next to him. They bumped and smiled courteously. His essence spiked surprise, too, though he had never met her as Laura Blackstone. He projected an undercurrent of pleasure. She stared down at her shoes trying not to think about it. His emotion shifted, an edge of concern coloring his interest. She wondered what he was thinking but avoided making eye contact.

The doors opened, and they bumped again as they moved to exit.

“Excuse me.” He stepped back to let her go first.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said. It was. Even without the subtle emphasis he placed on the words, his attraction was evident. He paced a few feet behind her as she walked down the corridor. She resisted the urge to look back but became keenly aware of how she held herself.

When his essence receded behind her, she did look. As he entered a hearing room, her pleasure at his attention faded when the door closed. It was the room where Senator Hornbeck’s Fey Relations Committee was meeting. Confused but intrigued, she continued farther until she reached the hearing room for her fact-finding session on fey homeless shelters. Guildmaster Rhys considered the program one of his pet projects to enhance relations with the human population.

She stopped short. The hearing room was empty. A small sign on the open door announced the meeting had been canceled.

A young, earnest intern smiled at her. “Are you here for the meeting, ma’am?”

She glanced in the empty room again. “I was.”

“It’s being rescheduled for Tuesday. Are you Director Blackstone?”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

The intern handed her a note. “You were the only person we couldn’t reach. I was asked to give this to you.”

In a narrow spidery handwriting it read:

It’s a shame you won’t be able to speak publicly today. It’s unfortunate that you didn’t get the message. I would be flattered if you attended my committee meeting since you have an opening in your schedule.

It was signed S. Hornbeck.

Laura’s PDA vibrated. Despite the desire to, she didn’t crumple the paper. I got the message, you old fox, she thought. She pulled out her cell as she checked the PDA. An urgent message from Saffin flashed:

UR MTG CNCLD, CLL ME!!!

“Did you get my message?” Saffin asked when she answered the cell.

“Just now. What happened?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry. I just got it myself. Everyone canceled.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes. At the last minute, too. All of them. Maybe they went to a party and didn’t invite you,” Saffin said.

Laura glanced up the hall at the closed door to Hornbeck’s conference. “That’s okay. I’ve been invited to my own party.”

Saffin groaned. “It was Hornbeck, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. I was angry a second ago, but now I’m amused. I had to talk to him anyway. Don’t worry about it, Saf. It’s rescheduled for next Tuesday.”

“That’s the day I was going to take off. Do you want me to come in if you’re going to be there?”

“No. If we’re both out, then people will have to figure things out for themselves.”

Saffin chuckled. “This is why I like working for you.”

“I’ll let you know how it goes.” She disconnected.

She retraced her path down the corridor to Hornbeck’s hearing room. She entered with a pleasant expression fixed on her face. If she had learned one thing after decades of dealings with politicians, it was that the moment she lost her cool, she lost an argument. Besides, she had to admit that Hornbeck’s maneuver was nicely played. He’d disrupted her schedule, demonstrated some political muscle to do it, and gotten extra kicks with an innocently worded sarcastic note.

Laura found a seat near the rear of the crowded room. Hornbeck sat front and center. Six other senators sat on his committee, though only four of them were present. Hornbeck’s eyes flicked toward Laura when she crossed her legs in the aisle. Saffin was right about the red scarf and, given the shift in the direction of Hornbeck’s eyes, the legs. Hornbeck presided over the room, a reassuring senatorial image with his tousled white hair and masculine face. His family came from old Midwestern stock, the moneyed kind, and it showed in his dress and bearing. He was a man accustomed to control and getting his way. He was also on the right side of enough controversial issues to irritate both political parties and win reelection four times.

Her next surprise of the day was Aaron Foyle sitting to the left side of the room in civilian clothing. As a police liaison to the committee, his presence didn’t surprise Laura all that much, only that he had had time to change out of his uniform and beat her through traffic. Sinclair, on the other hand, stood near the rear on the same side. When she made eye contact with him, he smiled politely, then looked away as if he hadn’t been staring.

Resha Dunne sat in the second row of observers, which both surprised and didn’t surprise her. She knew his schedule and would have noticed if he’d planned on attending anything related to Hornbeck. She had expected him at her own hearing and suspected he had wandered down here when that meeting was canceled. The Guildmaster had conveyed to her in private his desire to keep tabs on Dunne and make sure he didn’t say the wrong thing in the wrong place.

I’m here, Resha, four rows back. Don’t turn around. What have I missed?
She sighed when he turned around. Anyone watching knew they were communicating privately, which was poor etiquette at best.

Senator Hornbeck is upset about several recent incidents. Do we have information on a police action in Anacostia?
Dunne sent back.

On your desk for two days, Laura thought.
I’ll brief you later. I thought this hearing was about financial funding.

That was earlier. He’s using his closing remarks to make points,
Resha sent.

Hornbeck droned on. Neither American political party had a corner on anti-fey sentiments. It was almost a necessary political requirement for election in most parts of the country. People feared the fey. They were foreign, answered to a queen, had misunderstood abilities. And some looked downright frightening. Tragedies and aberrant behavior made headlines, fueling the perception of menace. Hornbeck played on those fears and anxieties as much as possible while giving what Laura considered lip service to unity. Laura wondered how much of his antipathy was personal and how much was political. He certainly dropped issues when he managed to garner support for his own agendas.

Hornbeck gaveled the meeting closed. Laura remained in her seat while the other spectators hustled for the door. The journalists and photographers exited first and quickly, trying to give their media outlets an edge in timely reporting. Various political functionaries shifted and gathered, buttonholing targets as they moved toward the doors. Most of the committee members bolted, intent on getting on with other business, but Hornbeck stayed, listening and nodding as someone whispered in his ear.

Resha moved to the front of the room, waiting to speak to Hornbeck. A few straggling photographers snapped shots of the Guild director leaning against the paneled front of the speaker’s desk. Laura envisioned the shots—the pale, sharp-featured merrow leaning in toward the respectable senior senator. Hornbeck would love it.

Hornbeck spoke to Resha, whose wide face looked ominous as it bobbed toward the senator. Laura made a small prayer that the merrow would learn to be image-conscious about more than his skin color, or at least wait until photographers were not around before he looked like he was about to bite off the head of a human politician. Resha waved her over. She approached the committee dais with her patented professional smile.

“Laura, it’s good to see you,” Hornbeck said.

She shook his hand. “The pleasure is mine, Senator.”

“The senator was just telling me there seems to be some mix-up with the Archives ceremony,” said Resha.

Laura feigned surprise. “Oh? Is there something I can do?”
Be careful, Resha. Rhys doesn’t want him interfering,
she sent.

Hornbeck flashed a thin, cold smile. “My request for Tylo Blume to be on the program seems to have been misplaced.”

Laura nodded. “Oh, I see. Security concerns forced us to curtail the ceremony, Senator. It was decided to limit the number of speakers.”

Hornbeck pursed his lips sagely in the way authority figures do when they want to appear to be listening, but will have none of what they’re hearing. “Blume’s firm has done an enormous job.”

“Yes, the Guild has been very impressed with Triad.”

“I think they’ve earned a place at the podium. The work they’ve done coordinating the concerns of everyone is a fine example of the unity we’re trying to promote between the human and the fey,” he said.

Laura smiled to appear agreeable but had no intention of changing her mind. “I couldn’t agree more that projecting the right image is important. I think the feeling, Senator, was that it wasn’t a political event and that the historical nature of the relationships would be emphasized.”

Hornbeck leaned back in his chair in a staged relaxed pose. “I am a keen student of the history of human-fey relations, Laura,” Hornbeck said.

She nodded again. “I know, Senator. The Guild and the Archives have been flattered by the amount of attention the ceremony is receiving from interested parties.”

“Is the program so very tight?” Resha said.

Laura forced herself to look regretful instead of murderous. “I’m afraid so, Resha. We tried to accommodate everyone, but you know how these things go.”

“Yes, I do,” said Hornbeck. “You might reconsider, though. As an elf with connections to the Teutonic court, Blume will only add to the breadth of voices speaking. I am well aware of the delicate tensions between the Celtic and Teutonic fey.”

She marveled at the insinuation that his request would ease tension among the fey. Twenty years in the Senate earned arrogance points, she thought. “Yes, always a concern for the Guild. We prefer to handle such things as an internal matter.”

Be careful how you speak to him!
an alarmed Resha sent.

I know what I’m doing, Resha,
she sent. Unlike you, she didn’t add.

“We need to reach out to everyone we can to encourage cooperation, Laura. Even more so now, in these times of increased fey-related terrorist activity,” he said.

Laura compressed her lips. “Senator, you know every culture has its malcontents. This ceremony is about celebrating an alliance of cultures and its success. The Archives and the Guild want the focus to be on the documents and what they’ve achieved. Perhaps the Guild would be willing to develop a symposium to address the important issues you continue to raise?”
Back me up here, Resha,
she sent.

Resha startled as if he had dozed off. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. We could even bring representatives from the other Guildhouses to broaden the perspective.”

She didn’t love the idea, but getting the other Guildmas ters to participate would drive Resha to distraction, which Laura wouldn’t mind. She infused her face with animated excitement. “I like that. It would be a great opportunity to move beyond the problems and look to the future.”

“I agree,” said Hornbeck, “And the ceremony will be a perfect moment to announce the idea.” He gathered his papers. “Send my office a revised schedule, Laura. I will defer to Orrin Rhys’s decision as to when on the program Blume will speak.”