The Shattered Empire (The Shadow Space Chronicles Book 2) (21 page)

“Captain Stavros Heraklion and Miss Kelly,” the attendant announced.

Mason caught the turn of heads throughout the assembled guests.  Many of them went to Lauren first, where some lingered for longer than was strictly necessary for an escort. 
Which is understandable,
Mason thought,
Lauren looks magnificent when she's properly made up.
  The expensive crimson dress showed off her curves while still having a sense of elegance.  The boutique had arranged her brown hair into artful curls that accentuated the soft curves of her face.  After her, almost every gaze lingered on him, a long moment of calculated evaluation that, in a man with any sense of shame, would have felt oppressive.

For a man like Stavros, however, that attention would have been intoxicating.  “Ah, such a quaint party,” Mason said.  He looked over at Lauren, “It was much bigger last time I bothered to come.  Better music and more important guests,” he swept his gaze across the assemblage and their finery and he let loose a sneer, even as he searched for the true players of the night.  “They had a roast Opuchi Neosaur as well.”

All the eyes seemed to lock on him.  He saw a variety of expressions, from disgust to piqued interest to calculation on the faces of most.

No doubt his own dress, or lack thereof, drew some of that.  The tight, glossy red leather pants were something of an eyesore, he knew.  The golden sheen of his vest, open down to his navel, no doubt attracted a bit more attention.  No doubt his hairy chest, oiled and perfumed, garnered the rest.  Mason knew that most of the guests wouldn't believe he'd dressed like this on purpose.  He himself wouldn't have believed Stavros's taste, except he'd seen him at one of these events dressed even worse.  It was fortunate that Stavros and he could pass for body doubles, else he would never have made the attempt.

At the expressions of shock on some of the faces, Mason allowed a smirk onto his lips.  His smirk widened as he noticed Lucretta Mannetti off to one side, deep in discussion with a man he recognized.  She'd broken off and stared at Stavros with an expression of mingled shock and interest. 
Well,
Mason thought,
there's no accounting for taste.

Mason led the way to the bar, “I'll have two glasses of ouzo and...” he turned to Lauren, “What would you like, my dear?”

“Water,” Lauren growled.

Mason smiled, “And soda water for my companion.”  He leaned close to the bartender and spoke loud enough for the nearer guests to hear, “She thinks I drink too much.  What can I say, she doesn't understand that her role is to guard my body, not my liver?”

The bartender gave him a polite smile and after a moment produced the drinks.  Mason knocked them back, one after the other and hid a grimace.  He hated the sickly sweet taste of ouzo.  Still, as the raw liquor worked its way through his body, he welcomed a bit of the warm glow. 
Got to be careful,
he thought,
my tolerance is shot if those two drinks hit me already.
  He turned to Lauren, “Let's circulate, shall we?”

She leaned close, “I look like a prostitute in this dress and with this makeup.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Mason said, his voice loud, “You look magnificent, very high class.  They,” he gestured with an arm at several of the women to one side, “look like prostitutes.”  He caught the instant venom in the glares from the insulted women.  Yet it was true enough, the various wives and girlfriends had gone the fashion route of maximum skin and minimal cloth, most of that arranged in places that did little to conceal.  A couple of them looked decidedly chilly.

Mason strutted over towards one man he recognized, “Jonathan Kinere!  You weasel, how dare you show your face here!”  The weasel in question looked up and something of a deer in the headlights expression on his face.  He and Stavros had run in similar circles, but had something of a disagreement.  Judging by the fines he'd had to pay, Kinere had gone at least somewhat legitimate, but Stavros wouldn't see it that way.  “You send your lawyers to take a pound of flesh, but you aren't brave enough to claim it yourself?”  He strode right up into the other man's face as he talked, his arms swinging wildly as he gesticulated.

From his expression, Jonathan Kinere was suddenly devoutly wishing that the invitation hadn't specified a lack of weapons.  Mason leaned over the shorter man, “Trust me, Kinere, I won't forget this.  I'll see you ruined.  Over such a petty thing, too!”

The weasel in question straightened, “You slept with my wife.”

“Something that would not be an issue except you made something of it...” Mason said.  “After all, many men have slept with your wife.” It was true, as far as Mason knew.  From the chuckles in the crowd around them, it was still a common occurrence.

“You recorded it.” Kinere ground out.  “And you leaked it onto the networks of a dozen worlds.  You tried to destroy my reputation, Stavros.  And if I have my way, I'll destroy you.”

“Well,” Mason said.  “You are welcome to try.  Perhaps we could discuss this at another time?  Your wife has my communications code still, I believe.”

Kinere flushed even darker, “I will remember this, Stavros.”

“Excellent!” Mason smirked.  “I should think you would.  Run along now.”  He waved a hand and Kinere backed off, though from the scowl on his face, his rage at Stavros was rekindled. 
I'd be afraid, except he is a self-important weasel,
Mason thought.  Jonathan wouldn't risk his own neck in a duel and he'd be too  nervous at getting caught to hire assassins.  Mason had his own dislike of the man, so it cost him nothing at all to humiliate him.

Mason figured that he had probably established Stavros well enough.  He turned and began to walk through the crowd.  “Captain Stavros,” a woman's voice called.

Mason turned, to find that Lucretta Mannetti had worked her way through the crowd.  “That was an impressive display there with Kinere.  You do know that he's taken over the Exchange here on Port Klast, right?”

Mason shrugged expansively, “So what if he has?”

“Any goods you're selling or buying will likely go through him,” Mannetti said, her eyes narrow.  She was evaluating him, Mason knew, seeing how he measured up to the rumors.

“Perhaps,” Mason said, “But I've sold my cargo already.  And there are other buyers and traders to do business with on Port Klast.  I need not go through the Exchange, I can find buyers on my own.”  He cocked his head, “And who might you be, my dear?  You don't hold yourself like a courtesan... and I think that uniform is out of regulation.”  She wore the black uniform of the Nova Roma Imperial Fleet, but it was heavily tailored, with a low-cut collar to show off her assets and pants that were almost skin tight.  She also had an impressive rack of medals... though from what Mason had heard, all of them were earned.

“I'm Admiral Lucretta Mannetti,” she responded and extended her hand.

Mason took it in one hand and bowed floridly over it.  He kissed the back of her hand and felt the thready pulse in her wrist.  “Delightful to meet you, Admiral.”

She pulled her hand away quickly, yet the smile on her face suggested she found him amusing at least.  “You, as well, Stavros.  From what I understand, you've avoided the area since you ran afoul of Tommy King.”

Mason let his smirk fade.  He locked his jaw and looked away, “That bastard told me that if he saw me again, he'd kill me.  Kill
me.
  As if I had any fear of him.”  He dropped his tone, “In truth, he went after my bases, threatened my fences, even hijacked a my supply ship from here on Port Klast.  I would have been ruined if I hadn't left.”

“Hmm, but now that he's gone, you drag yourself back?” Her tone was derisive.

Mason stood up straight, “My lady, you have obviously been ill-informed.  I marauded my way across the southern edge of the Colonial Republic until their trade dried up.  I have made a fine sale of my remaining cargo here.  I'll soon hire on a crew and do the same here, where I understand the fall of Nova Roma has left a glut of ships and worlds ripe for the taking.”

She stared at him for a long, uncertain moment.  Finally she nodded her head, “Well, best of luck to you, Captain Stavros.  And enjoy the remainder of your evening.”

“What was that?” Lauren asked.

“She wanted to evaluate me, to see how I measure up to my legend,” Mason said.  “Now she knows what Stavros is capable of and she will remember me.”  Ideally, she'd remember his tendency to burn bridges, so when he signed on with someone else's organization, it would make sense, especially if he couldn't sell a cargo.  He turned to Lauren, “Let's meet the rest, shall we?”

***

They paused some time later, while Lauren fixed the various dignitaries of the room with a baleful gaze and Mason sampled drinks at the bar.   Most such events, the alcohol would be medium quality, good enough that most folks wouldn't complain.  Thomas Kaid's bartenders set out only the finest, with exceptions only for availability.  As always, Mason noted, Thomas Kaid had impeccable taste.

“Captain Stavros, Miss Kelly, Thomas Kaid extends an offer to join his private party,” a polite voice said.  Mason turned to find a short man, attired in Thomas Kaid's colors of forest green.

“I thought this was his private party?” Lauren asked sharply.

Mason grinned, “This is the outer ring, but Thomas Kaid is rather more selective about who graces his presence, eh?”  He leaned forward and clapped the young man on the shoulder.

The messenger didn't so much as flinch and the solid muscle Mason felt suggested that he was probably security, doing double duty.  Mason felt a bit of unease as he contemplated facing up to Thomas Kaid, one on one.  The reclusive man rarely dealt with those he considered his inferiors... and as the defacto ruler of Port Klast, there were few he considered his equal.  He had, on occasion, been known to meet with those he found interesting or amusing.  He had, as far as Mason knew, never met with Stavros before.

“Well, let's get to the nicer party, shall we?” Mason asked in a too-loud tone and with a broad wave.  He lurched a bit as he got up from the stool, though it wasn't as much of a ruse as he would have liked. 
Definitely lost some of my tolerance, but I suppose that's the price to pay for avoiding it entirely for so many years,
Mason thought.

They followed the young man out through one of the side doors and then down a series of short corridors.  The Jade House, Thomas Kaid's palace, was an elaborate building.  Mason knew well that it's corridors, halls, and courtyards were a labyrinth to guests and potential invaders alike.  Mason had been through these corridors before and prided himself in his sense of direction, yet even so, after they came to the end of what looked like a cul de sac, Mason was completely lost.

Lauren gave him a raised eyebrow and Mason just gave her an impassive shrug. 

The young man typed a command into an unobtrusive key pad and a section of paneling opened.  The young man stepped to the side and gestured for them to enter the hidden passageway.

Mason led the way and put as much swagger into his step as possible.  Selling his role was essential right now, as Mason had little doubt that various scanners were focused upon him and Lauren.  He had little doubt what Thomas Kaid's response would be, should he decide that they weren't the people he had invited.

The corridor opened up in another of the Jade House's innumerable courtyards.  This one had a number of large water fountains as well as dense, lush foliage that gave the open areas a sense of privacy.  Broad, tiled paths led through the concealing brush, with ornate stone columns that lit up the evening air.   They emerged into a small clearing and another man in Thomas Kaid's colors gestured for them to wait.

Before Mason had really come to a halt, a small group came down a path.  Several of the men wore tan khaki uniforms, though at their head walked a tall, blonde woman in civilian clothing.  Next to him walked another man.  He was tall and well muscled, with pale blue eyes, his face was tanned and his gray-streaked beard was neatly trimmed.  He wore a perfectly fitted charcoal-colored suit with a tie the color of dried blood.

As he drew closer, Mason could hear the last bit of their conversation.  “Of course, Councilor Penwaithe, I understand your dilemma, and I will make certain the right sorts of ships and captains are the ones that I assist you to recruit.”  Thomas Kaid stopped and shook hands with the woman.  “I will also see to sale of goods and be certain that your traders are dealt with fairly by those of Port Klast.”

“Thank you, sir,” the woman said.  “The people of my world, my people, will not forget your help.”

“These are hard times, Councilor Penwaithe,” Thomas Kaid said with a smile.  His white, perfect teeth stood out starkly from his tanned face and  perfectly trimmed, gray-streaked beard.  “We must work together, as much as possible.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another appointment.  Enjoy the rest of your evening.”  He gave the counselor a polite nod and turned away.  Several of his men escorted those guests past Mason and Lauren and down the passageway they had entered.

Mason caught the frown of distaste from the woman as she walked past. 
Here to deal with Thomas Kaid,
Mason thought,
but she doesn't like pirates... interesting.