her.
Mrs. Beckstein took a deep breath. "Olga. If Mr. Fleming here doesn't answer my questions, you have my permission to shoot him in the kneecap. At will."
"Which one?" asked the Russian princess.
"Whichever you want." Mrs. Beckstein sniffed. "Now, Mike. I want you to understand one thing, and one thing only-I'm concerned for my daughter's well-being. I'm especially concerned when an ex-boyfriend of hers with a highly dubious employment record appears out of nowhere at a-"she coughed "-joyous occasion, and all hell breaks loose. And I am more concerned than you can possibly begin to imagine that she has vanished in the middle of the sound and the fury, because there is an official decree in force that says if she world-walks without the permission of the Clan committee, her life is forfeit. She is my daughter, and blood is thicker than water, and I am going to save her ass. Call it atonement for earlier mis-lakes, if you like: I've not always been a terribly good mother." She leaned closer. "Now, you may be able to help me save her ass. If I think you might be useful to me, I can protect you up, to a point. Or." She nodded at Olga. "Lady Olga is a friend of Miriam's. She's concerned for her welfare, too. Miriam has more friends than she realizes, you see. Thousands and thousands of them... So the question is: are we all agreed that we are friends of Miriam, and that we intend to save her ass'? Or-"she fixed Mike with a vulture stare"-were you stringing her along?"
"No!" he exclaimed. "Whoa. Ow." The weasels had graduated from carnivore school and were working on their diplomas in coyote impersonation. "What do you want to know?"
"Let's start with, how you got over here."
"Same way Matthias got over to our-my-world." He could almost see the lightbulbs going on over Olga's and Mrs. Beckstein's heads. "Family Trade captured a couple of world-walkers. Forced them to carry." He tried to shrug himself into a more comfortable position, half-upright.
"Forced? How?" Olga stared at him. "And what is Family Trade?"
"Collar... bombs. They carry a cargo and come back, Family Trade resets the timer. They don't come back, it blows their head off. When they're not world-walking, FTO keeps them in a high-rise jail."
Mrs. Beckstein interrupted. "Family Trade-this is some spook agency, isn't it?"
"Yes. I'm-seconded-to it. Not my idea. Matt walked into the Boston downtown office while Pete-my partner- and I were on the desk. That's all."
"Ah." Mrs. Beckstein nodded to herself. "And they sent you here because they worked out that Miriam was... okay. I think I get it. Am I right?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, mostly," he said hastily: Olga was still glaring at him from her corner. "We don't have much intel on the ground. Colonel Smith figured she'd be able to develop a spy ring for us, in return for an exit opportunity. He wants informants. I told him it was half-assed and premature, but he ordered the insertion."
"He wants informants, does he?" Mrs. Beckstein grinned. "What do you make of that, Olga?"
Olga's expression of alarm surprised Mike in its intensity, cutting through the fog of drugs: "you can't be serious! That would be treason!"
"It's not treason if it's known to ClanSec in advance." Mrs. Beckstein waved a hand in dismissal. "One man's spy is another man's diplomatic back channel to the other side; it just depends who's playing the game and for what stakes." Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Mike. "Your colonel wants information? Well, he shall have it, and you shall take it to him. But in return, you're going to find my daughter." A brief sideways nod: "you and Lady Olga, that is."
Chapter 4
RUNNING DOG
The next day came too early for Erasmus. It was barely a quarter to eight when he checked out of the cheap traveler's hotel he'd stayed in overnight, and walked around to the rear entrance to Hogarth Villas. Lady Bishop's taciturn manservant Edward answered the door, then led him down a servants' passage and a
Mrs. Beckstein took a deep breath. "Olga. If Mr. Fleming here doesn't answer my questions, you have my permission to shoot him in the kneecap. At will."
"Which one?" asked the Russian princess.
"Whichever you want." Mrs. Beckstein sniffed. "Now, Mike. I want you to understand one thing, and one thing only-I'm concerned for my daughter's well-being. I'm especially concerned when an ex-boyfriend of hers with a highly dubious employment record appears out of nowhere at a-"she coughed "-joyous occasion, and all hell breaks loose. And I am more concerned than you can possibly begin to imagine that she has vanished in the middle of the sound and the fury, because there is an official decree in force that says if she world-walks without the permission of the Clan committee, her life is forfeit. She is my daughter, and blood is thicker than water, and I am going to save her ass. Call it atonement for earlier mis-lakes, if you like: I've not always been a terribly good mother." She leaned closer. "Now, you may be able to help me save her ass. If I think you might be useful to me, I can protect you up, to a point. Or." She nodded at Olga. "Lady Olga is a friend of Miriam's. She's concerned for her welfare, too. Miriam has more friends than she realizes, you see. Thousands and thousands of them... So the question is: are we all agreed that we are friends of Miriam, and that we intend to save her ass'? Or-"she fixed Mike with a vulture stare"-were you stringing her along?"
"No!" he exclaimed. "Whoa. Ow." The weasels had graduated from carnivore school and were working on their diplomas in coyote impersonation. "What do you want to know?"
"Let's start with, how you got over here."
"Same way Matthias got over to our-my-world." He could almost see the lightbulbs going on over Olga's and Mrs. Beckstein's heads. "Family Trade captured a couple of world-walkers. Forced them to carry." He tried to shrug himself into a more comfortable position, half-upright.
"Forced? How?" Olga stared at him. "And what is Family Trade?"
"Collar... bombs. They carry a cargo and come back, Family Trade resets the timer. They don't come back, it blows their head off. When they're not world-walking, FTO keeps them in a high-rise jail."
Mrs. Beckstein interrupted. "Family Trade-this is some spook agency, isn't it?"
"Yes. I'm-seconded-to it. Not my idea. Matt walked into the Boston downtown office while Pete-my partner- and I were on the desk. That's all."
"Ah." Mrs. Beckstein nodded to herself. "And they sent you here because they worked out that Miriam was... okay. I think I get it. Am I right?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, mostly," he said hastily: Olga was still glaring at him from her corner. "We don't have much intel on the ground. Colonel Smith figured she'd be able to develop a spy ring for us, in return for an exit opportunity. He wants informants. I told him it was half-assed and premature, but he ordered the insertion."
"He wants informants, does he?" Mrs. Beckstein grinned. "What do you make of that, Olga?"
Olga's expression of alarm surprised Mike in its intensity, cutting through the fog of drugs: "you can't be serious! That would be treason!"
"It's not treason if it's known to ClanSec in advance." Mrs. Beckstein waved a hand in dismissal. "One man's spy is another man's diplomatic back channel to the other side; it just depends who's playing the game and for what stakes." Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Mike. "Your colonel wants information? Well, he shall have it, and you shall take it to him. But in return, you're going to find my daughter." A brief sideways nod: "you and Lady Olga, that is."
Chapter 4
RUNNING DOG
The next day came too early for Erasmus. It was barely a quarter to eight when he checked out of the cheap traveler's hotel he'd stayed in overnight, and walked around to the rear entrance to Hogarth Villas. Lady Bishop's taciturn manservant Edward answered the door, then led him down a servants' passage and a
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