"Smith, Kristine - [Kilian 2] - Rules of Conflict" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Kristine)

That final loose end tied off, Jani crossed the wide avenue and headed for the hojea platform, dodging skimmers and jostling through groups of the well-dressed leaving their businesses for a night on the town. One, a day-suited man whose night out must have started that morning, bumped her roughly, then staggered on, muttering curses at the world in general. Not a Felician accent, Jani noted. Earthbound. No surprise there. Lots of Earthbounders worked on Felix.
She stepped onto the platform and surveyed the scene around her as she waited for the train. Across the street, she saw the man who had bumped her standing in the Guv Hall entryway, watching her. Then the street weaved and roiled like a banner in the wind. Just as she sagged to her knees, Jani heard footsteps close in from behind. Then it all went blackЧ
CHAPTER 3
"So what do we do now, Quino?" Evan van Reuter flipped his stylus from one hand to another. "We've been waiting for one goddamn piece of paper for two hours."
Joaquin Loiaza shot a look uptable at the SIB chief investigator. But Colonel Veda was engaged in anxious discussion with the Judge Advocate's representative, and didn't appear aware of the mutterings at the far end of the conference table. "In truth, Evan, we've been waiting for two goddamn pieces of paper. The Hilfington roster would be nice, but we'll take the Kensington master if we have to."
"By my count, this makes the fourth time in a month they've misplaced documents."
"Yes, their track record does fail to impress. I must consider how to turn that to our advantage." Joaquin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. As always, the old-coin aspect of his close-cropped brown hair and regal nose was offset by the pinched look around his turtlelike eyes.
Caesar with a migraine. Evan tapped the stylus on the table and stole another glance at Colonel Veda. Since she sat, he could only see her from the waist up. Closely trimmed black hair. Creamy brown skin. A noble face, handsome rather than pretty. He'd yet to see her smile, but he guessed those dark brown eyes could sparkle given the right encouragement. He knew from other stolen glances that her Service summerweights hugged lovely curves.
26 Kristine Smith
Her first name's Chandra. A soft, lovely name. Yes, in another lifetime, he would have asked Durian Ridgeway to don his go-between hat and invite her to an assignation in one of the rented flats the Interior Ministry had scattered throughout Chicago. In that other lifetime, she would have accepted.
But in this lifetime, Durian is dead and Veda thinks I'm a worm. Evan struck the stylus against the tableЧtiny shards of poly sprayed across the surface as the writing tip shattered. "What difference do the ship records from the evac make?" He swept the plastic bits over the tableside and onto the carpeted floor. "They know I was thereЧthat's why I'm in trouble now."
Joaquin sighed. "Pretend you're still a cabinet minister and use your brain. We want to build sympathy. Highlight the hardships you endured during the idomeni civil war and the evacuation, the hardships that still haunt your memory eighteen years later. The terror as the Haarin stalked Rauta Sheraa, slaughtering the fallen Laum, while their Vynsharau puppetmasters watched from the surrounding hills."
"You make it sound like a 'Vee melodrama. All that's missing is the closing clinch with the girlfriend to the strains of the Commonwealth anthem." Evan smiled to mask his unease. He had many reasons to dread his memoriesЧhe didn't relish the thought of his own attorney dredging them up again.
Especially the memories he'd deny to the grave.
Joaquin's stylus scraped across the surface of his recording board. "Only you would see it that way. A more sober-minded individual would have lived in constant fear."
Evan's smile died. Fear? Of what? The bombs? The panic? The rumors of a massacre by a human of twenty-six Laumrau in a place called Knevcet Sheraa? That the Haarin might ignore their cultural conditioning and avenge the disorderly deaths of their enemies by slaughtering the remaining inhabitants of Rauta Sheraa's human enclave?
That his government would find out the things he'd done? That escaping execution in Rauta Sheraa only increased his chances of meeting that fate back on Earth?
RULES OF CONFLICT 27
"Fear?" Evan felt the sweat trickle under his shirt. His hands shook. His left knee ached. He needed a drink. "What do you know about fear?"
Joaquin ignored the question. "Most especially, we need to emphasize that there were times during the voyage home that you didn't think you'd make it back to Earth alive."
His stylus broken, Evan dissipated the urge to twitch by tugging on his security cuff. My electronic leash. Nice of his jailers to make the black-banded monitor look like a timepiece. He wondered if it fooled anyone. "Living through two months of crappy food and cramped quarters isn't going to win me any sympathy from this crowd. It's their way of life."
"Keep your voice down!" Joaquin glanced anxiously at Veda. "Remember your place. No one has to tolerate your pithy commentary anymore." He clucked his tongue, then returned to his note taking.
Evan felt the lump in his gut grow and twist. Not long ago, people stood in line to tolerate his pithy commentary and whatever else he cared to dish out. It had been six months since the life he'd always known had ended. Six months since the roof had caved in.
And we know who snapped the support beam, don't we? Evan could see her face as clearly as if she sat across the table from him. Hair as short and black as Veda's. Eyes as dark. Skin as smooth. Look, as cold.
Jam, who killed the Laumrau and, before that, his Uncle Rik. Whom he tracked down and pulled from the gutter eighteen years later, because he had needed her a lot and still loved her a little. Who repaid him first by killing his friend Durian, then by destroying his life.
Jani.
"Excuse me."
Evan looked up to find Veda standing before him. Up close, he could see the fine etching of lines that decorated the corners of her eyes. So, there were smiles bottled up in that well-conditioned body. He wondered for whom she saved them. He tried to inject some softness into his expressionЧimagining what lay hidden under that trimly tailored summerweight shirt made it easy. Grey isn't her color; he
28 Kristine Smith
forced himself to focus on her face. No, it would have to be soft yellow or cream, something that would complement the undertones of her skin....
Joaquin's puckered asshole of a voice shook Evan out of his sexual reverie. "Have the vanished rosters reappeared yet, Colonel?"
A muscle throbbed in Veda's cheek. "No, Mr. Loiaza, they have not. The ranking documents examiner has been contacted, however, and we hope to have them first thing tomorrow morning."
"Do you?" Joaquin managed to inject more cynical skepticism in those two words than less-skilled attorneys could in an entire summation. "I find it very distressing that documents that could play an important role in my client's defense have gone missing as easily as last week's newssheets."
Veda's chest rose and fell. Evan found the movement hypnotic.
"Not a very skillful diversion, Counselor." The Judge Advocate's representative, a geeky youngster whose name Evan kept forgetting, drew up to his full-yet-unprepossessing height "Let's not lose sight of the essential facts. Your client is responsible for ordering the deaths of sixteen members of this Service. Add to that his collusion in the deaths of the Ban-dan research team at Knevget Sheraa and his role in the illegal importation of idomeni augmentation technologiesЧ"
"All alleged, Counselor. My client has not been charged." Joaquin's voice grew dangerously soft. "He's here to assist you in your investigation of Jani Kilian's murder of her commanding officer. Unless you're having difficulty uncovering documents pertinent to that case, as well."
The meeting ended with a terse assurance from Colonel Veda that the documents would be available by morning. Evan watched her stalk out of the conference room, his eyes greedily recording the sway of her walk in the long-deprived recesses of his memory. "Was that necessary?"
Joaquin tossed his recording board into his briefbag. "Evan, just because you have a hard-on for Veda doesn't mean I have to cease doing my job."
RULES OF CONFLICT 29
"Pithy, Quino."
"Let that be a lesson to you."
The SIB hallways mirrored the stripped-down aesthetic of the conference room. Evan fingered the austere beige sacking that cloaked the walls near the lift bank. Roshi probably picked out the wall coverings himself. Hiroshi Mako took pride in his functional, unadorned Service. He had battled to the dizzy heights of the Admiral-Generalcy with one goal in mind, to salvage his beloved Blue and Grey. They were a true military now, he claimed, instead of the Family police force they had been in the Bad Old Days.
Those Bad Old Days were pretty good to me. But then, Evan could admit his bias. Anything that improved a Family's place in the Commonwealth was right and commendable, and anyone in the NUVA-SCAN Family network who claimed to feel differently lied. Now, however, in these days of restless colonies clamoring for autonomy and argumentative idomeni demanding trade agreements that encroached more and more deeply into human territories, wise Family members kept such sentiments to themselves.
Family first. Even though, as far as the van Reuters were concerned, the Family had for years consisted of him and him alone.
"Rather fine qualifying match on the 'Vee this evening," Joaquin said. "Live from GenevaЧGruppo Helvetica vs. some poor colonial appetizer."
A scene flashed in Evan's mind. Tanned, coltish legs pumpingЧblack ponytail flipping. Daddy, watch meЧ! His eyes stung. "Soccer's not my game, Quino."
"It is the Commonwealth Cup." Joaquin grew thoughtful. "Although God knows what the upsurge of colonial pride will wash out of the drains if one of those teams actually wins it this time."
"Serena used to play on her school team." Evan blinked until his vision cleared. "I haven't watched a match since she died."
Joaquin shifted his feet. "Evan, IЧ"
"Just drop it." He braced for a clumsy apology. When