“I’m Justin March, here to see…Cornelia Kimora.” Surely there was no other CK the note could’ve been referring to. The soldier gave a curt nod and knocked. Someone called an invitation to enter from within. He disappeared inside for a few seconds and then returned to wave Justin in.
With no more hesitation, Justin plunged forward, ready to face whatever it was that waited for him. He stepped past the soldier and found who he’d both hoped and dreaded to see: Cornelia Kimora, his old boss, complete with boring clothing and a bad dye job. She looked exactly the same as she had the day she’d told him his last report was unacceptable and that she was “sorry things have to end this way.” His military escort had arrived soon thereafter.
They were in the living room of a suite, and she rose from her chair with a smile Justin knew with absolute certainty was faked.
“Justin,” she said. “I’m so happy to see you again.” That too was a lie, and he returned it in kind as he kissed her cheek.
“Likewise.” His brain was screaming with a thousand questions, and he had to fight down the urge to grab hold of her and demand an explanation for what had happened to his life. Instead, he put on the same pleasant face he’d have worn if they were friends catching up after a few months apart. It was the same face he used to interrogate cults and learn their inner workings. “You’re just as lovely as always. Do you want to get out and see some sights? I’d be happy to show you around.”
Her smile tightened, showing how unfunny she found him. “Just as droll as ever. Please, have a seat so we can talk.” No pleasantries here. It was nice to know some things hadn’t changed. She glanced over at the soldier who’d let Justin in. “Go fetch the others.”
Justin took the offered chair, which was one of four set up at a round wooden table. A wall near it displayed a large portable screen Cornelia’s entourage had brought along. Justin felt the same pang of longing for it as he had Mae’s ego. It was thin and light, with crystal-clear visuals and all of its hardware contained within itself. No need for a separate computer. The Panamanians had no technology to match that. Their computers always seemed clumsy and unwieldy to Justin, not to mention slow and unreliable.
Dents in the carpet showed the table had been moved to this position, which provided optimal viewing of the screen. Justin wondered if there was a presentation in his future. Cornelia wasn’t offering any guidance. She’d sat down again as well, crossed her legs, and seemed content to wait until “the others” showed before casting light on this situation. He had to give her points for staying true to herself. There was no awkwardness on her part, no gruff “sorry about the exile, you know how it is” or “glad you’re still alive.” Cornelia probably hadn’t lost any sleep over her decisions and wasn’t going to pretend otherwise now.
The door burst open, and a tall, gangly man entered. He was close to Cornelia’s age and had thinning gray hair. Upon seeing Justin, the man’s face lit up. He sprinted across the room, and Justin managed to get to his feet just in time for a frenzied handshake.
“Dr. March! At last! I am so, so, so happy to meet you. You have no idea. I’m such a huge fan of your work.”
I wonder which work that is, mused Horatio.
Me too, said Justin.
But again, Justin played it cordial and unassuming. “Why, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say, Mr….?”
“This is Director Francis Kyle, from Internal Security,” said Cornelia.
Just Internal Security. When no one assigned you a subdepartment, it meant you were high up. Very high up. Certainly higher than Cornelia, who was having a difficult time hiding her dislike for her superior.
“Please, please, just call me Francis. I want this little gathering to be as friendly as possible.”
At least someone does, Justin thought, casting another look at Cornelia. The circumstances of this meeting were still a total mystery, but one thing Justin knew at a glance was that Francis wanted to be here and Cornelia did not.
“We should order drinks then,” Justin told him. “I’m sure they have some sort of room service to—”
The words died on his lips as another person slipped into the room.
It was her.
She wasn’t naked or even in a mauve dress, but there was no mistaking Mae. She was dressed simply in blue-gray linen pants and a white cotton T-shirt. From the way her hands hastily tied her hair back in a ponytail as she walked, she’d probably only just finished taking a blow dryer to it. The makeup was gone too, not that her complexion had really needed it. She looked brisk and efficient in her sportier attire, though still devastatingly beautiful.
Also, devastatingly surprised.
She came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room when she saw Justin. Her hands dropped to her sides, and her eyes widened. Justin felt his own face mirror her shock as he lost control of his casual façade. For a few seconds, he was almost able to grasp at some sort of explanation. She was support staff for a Gemman military attaché, so perhaps it wouldn’t be that unreasonable that she would be here for a—
“Ah, Prætorian Koskinen,” said Francis, beaming at her. “You’re back. How splendid. This is Dr. March.”
Mae gave a weak nod, her eyes never leaving Justin.
The words hit Justin like a slap to the face. “Prætorian?” His sluggish mind suddenly started working again as a terrible thought popped up. “Are you…are you here to kill me?”
After several more moments, she seemed to regain her own control too. Her astonishment vanished, replaced by a cool and composed face that was much frostier than the one Justin had gotten to know earlier that night. “Dr. March,” she said calmly, “if I wanted you dead, you already would be.”
CHAPTER 5
A BURNING BRIDGE
Even Cornelia seemed to find that comment funny, probably because it was something she wished had actually happened.
“She’s joking, Dr. March,” said Francis, taking a seat beside Cornelia.
Justin, studying Mae’s face, wasn’t so sure. Prætorian. His blood ran cold. He’d been such an idiot. He prided himself on his powers of observation and ability to draw out the truth of a situation from the finest details. How had he really let himself believe that someone’s “research support” had taken out the Jessup thugs back in the alley in so short a time? In heels and a dress? He hadn’t been able to watch the fight as it happened, thanks to Miguel, but even so, anyone looking at the carnage Mae had left behind should’ve been able to deduce that something wasn’t normal there.
You weren’t looking at the carnage, said Horatio.
Justin couldn’t deny the accusation. He’d been dazed on alcohol and ash, high on the idea that a pretty Gemman woman was charmed by him. With a distraction like her, who could pay attention to details or ask uncomfortable questions about his impending death?
Francis glanced back and forth between them. “Did you deliver the message personally?” he asked Mae. “You must’ve been at the party around the same time.”
“No. We missed each other,” she said.
“She must’ve been tied up,” added Justin, deadpan.
Mae gave him a sharp look that made him wonder if baiting a prætorian was such a smart idea. A prætorian. He’d slept with a fucking prætorian. Who did that? And who lived to tell the tale? That beautiful exterior took on a sinister edge as he allowed himself to contemplate all that she was capable of. Why had she lied? Her initial shock upon seeing him suggested this turn of events had caught her off guard too, but Justin suddenly wasn’t so sure. Had she sought him out at the party and lied about her identity to get close? Was this part of Cornelia’s larger scheme? For all he knew, they’d orchestrated the Jessup assault to conveniently give Mae a reason to “save” him. It sounded far-fetched, but Justin had learned long ago never to underestimate the RUNA’s government.
Forget all of that, said Magnus. And just remember your deal.
Oh, I remember it, said Justin, realizing the new danger this reunion presented. And I will never touch her again.
“Well, we’re all here now,” said Francis, cheerful and unassuming. “Let’s get on with this. We have very exciting business ahead.”
Justin took his seat again, and after several seconds, Mae reluctantly sat as well, positioning herself as far from him as possible.
Cornelia looked relieved to be done with all the unnecessary and wasteful parts of the meeting, like introductions. She gave a curt nod to the uniformed soldiers, and they left the room. Clearing her throat, she turned to face her tablemates. “Yes. Let’s get this settled. Justin…I’m here to give you a chance to be a servitor again.”
Justin’s heart nearly stopped, but he refused to let that show, especially since Cornelia’s admission seemed to cause her a lot of discomfort. “They don’t need servitors in Panama. You can buy salvation on the streets.”
Francis chuckled. He finds everything you say delightful, observed Horatio. Judging from her scowl, Cornelia didn’t share the sentiment. “Not here. There.”
There was no need to elaborate on where “there” was. The RUNA. Some inner voice of wisdom that wasn’t the ravens cautioned him to dial back the snark.
“You’re offering me my citizenship back,” he said.
“I’m offering you your job back,” Cornelia clarified. “Our country doesn’t give citizenship lightly.”
“Yes,” he said bitterly, “but it sure doesn’t have any problems taking it away.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you interested or not?”
Hell yes, Justin was interested. He wanted to get up and walk onto a plane right then and there. But the situation was still too strange, and there were too many unknown variables for him to jump in blindly. He’d already had one moment of carelessness tonight, and that had landed him in bed with a dangerous woman.