“Can I come? I won’t get in the way or anything. I could be your assistant.”
“I don’t think so. Not today.”
He gave her a sullen look. “Fine. Sure. I get it. You think I’m stupid.”
“No,” she said, proud she wasn’t sighing in exasperation. After she’d moved him in, she’d told him she was a freelance design refiner for algae reactor initiators, used extensively during the early stage of terraforming. It was a good holding lie. But she hadn’t expected this hiatus to last so long. “You just need some basic qualifications to work in my sector.”
“Yeah, like I’m ever going to have that.”
“You could have, if you go to university.”
“Sure thing, mother.”
She gave him a sly lecherous smile and stood up. The uncertain look in his eyes was arousing. Her hand closed on the jar of organic manuka honey. “Would your mother do this?” she murmured, and opened the front of her robe, ready to pour the luxurious golden goo over her chest.
“You have a call,” Zapata informed her. The identity icon of her European agent splashed on her tarsus lenses made her stop.
“Go take a shower first,” she told Gustavo. The dramatic return of the pout made her laugh outright. He stomped back to his bedroom.
“Accept,” she told Zapata.
“Good morning to you, my greatest client,” the agent said. “How are you today?”
“Restless,” she admitted. “I thought you were dead, or in jail.”
“Like you haven’t got a dozen others the same as me tirelessly hunting the worthy jobs.”
“Maybe. If I do, they’re a lot more tireless.”
“I’m hurt.”
“I’m sympathetic. Come on, what have you got for me?”
“The biggest. The job of legend, the one that never happens. This is your pinnacle, my dear. You can retire after this and bore everyone in the bar all night long with tales of your imminent sainthood.”
“Bullshit. You said that about Baja.”
“This time, though. Oh, yes, this time.”
“I need a better agent.”
“No, you don’t, because no other agent could bring you a contract with Akitha.”
A small, cold shiver of excitement ran up Kandara’s spine. “Double bullshit! That’s Utopial central. They wouldn’t touch me with a bargepole.”
“Desperate times, my dear. Can I tell them you’re interested?”
“Is this on the level?”
“I guarantee it. I had to meet their representative in the flesh. That I never do. But for you…”
“What’s the job?”
“Oh, yeah, like they’re going to tell me.”
“Mother Mary. All right, when do they want me?”
“Now.”
“Seriously?”
“No offense, but if they want
“Give me an hour.” She looked down at the jar of honey she was still holding. “Make it two.”
—
It was King Jaspar who was the biggest problem. Kandara wasn’t entirely surprised by that. Gustavo was simple. She fucked him until the honey was all used up, then told him he had to go. She did the decent thing and paid a fortnight’s rent for an apartment in the respectable hilltop neighborhood of Santa Teresa.
Rage. Screaming. Threats. Pleading. But in the end he packed his bag and stormed out, yelling impressively obscene curses on both her ancestors and descendants.
Easy. Now try booking a pedigreed Burmese into a decent cattery in Rio with a half hour’s notice. It cost her more than the Santa Teresa apartment. After that she paid a lawyer to find King Jaspar a suitable new owner if she wasn’t back in a month. Rule 101: Always treat every mission as if it’s going to be your last. And in this case, she wasn’t under any illusion. If the Utopials were asking for her, it was going to be something very serious indeed.
—
The Rio metro network took her to the international hub, from which it was three hubs to Bangkok. That was where it started to get more interesting. She had to take a civic radial out to Prawet, where the Utopial embassy was situated. As she walked through the interminable portal doors with her bagez trundling along behind, Zapata checked her neurochemical balance, which was perfectly level. She breathed calmly into a Zen state. Ready.
A minute later she was walking up the embassy’s broad steps with fountains playing on either side. A Utopial called Kruse was waiting for her at the top, just in front of the main arched entranceway. Sie looked about thirty, with a mane of chestnut hair in which rainbow jewels glowed discreetly. Hir fawn tweed suit was very formal, with a skirt that came down over hir knees. Kandara had to tip her head up when they shook hands; Kruse was an easy forty centimeters taller than she was. But the omnia’s smile seemed genuine enough.
“Investigator Martinez, such a pleasure,” sie said.
“Likewise, and it’s just Kandara.” Being called
“Of course. This way, please, Kandara.”