Captivate (Manipulate, Book 2)

Chapter 27

Early the next morning, Basher stood squarely in front of the Merith entourage surrounding Faal. They were bigger than him, but he’d dealt with people bigger than him on Earth. It was all about confidence; aggressive confidence, if need be.

And a weapon.

And backup.

Okay, so confidence was maybe half of it, but it all added up to him standing in this door, refusing to admit the five Merith bodyguards until they submitted to a search. They didn’t appreciate it.

Faal was richly dressed, with a deep orange robe hanging from his heavy shoulders. He was short, by Merith standards, and very... still. Basher had the feeling that Faal was in complete control of his facial expressions this morning. Heck, he was probably in control of the traffic in the tunnel behind him as well. From what Basher and Akemi had uncovered about this guy, he’d been something like a crime lord in Merith mainspace, but he'd turned his considerable resources toward politics, and now he was one of the richest, most powerful Merith in the galaxy.

“I don’t doubt your intentions,” Basher said, which was a total lie, “but we’ve had several security episodes in recent days and must be extra cautious. We cannot allow any weapons into the embassy in case they should fall into the wrong hands.”

“We are not armed,” said one of the bodyguards. “We were instructed of the requirements.”

Basher smiled and then lunged forward a step.

Faal’s bodyguards shifted in a lightning fast blur, ending with three weapons pointed at Basher’ neck.

Before he’d finished the movement, Basher had shifted his weight and retreated a step. He held out empty hands.

Faal’s soldiers growled low in their throats at the insult and Basher laughed.

“’No harm, no foul,’ we say on Earth.” Basher tapped the closest gun with one finger. “We can hang onto that for you.”

Then he nodded carefully to Faal, not wanting to push him over the edge.

“Welcome to the Spo embassy. I shall meet you shortly in the reception hall.”

Out of sight, Basher leaned against the wall for a moment, his heart racing. That was a trick he’d learned from his mentor, back when they’d worked security for Spo events a couple times. If you think a diplomat’s entourage is overly armed, and you can’t throw them in jail, give them a low-grade threat before they get inside. They show their weapons, you confiscate them, they go on in... minimal danger, and you've avoided a possible incident.

Except for the possibility that they freak out and shoot you. And for just a second there, Basher had thought perhaps he'd gone too far. But his mentor always said that the more professional the help, the better your chance of walking away. And the more money the politician had, the more professional their help usually was.

Basher had wagered that Faal was rich enough to have extremely professional guards, who wouldn’t kill without being sure of the situation, and he’d won his gamble.

He was certain they had other weapons, but he was satisfied to see them removed of their most obvious ones. He’d wanted to make it clear to Faal that he was not free to do as he wished at the embassy.

 Now Faal had been slightly humbled, but not embarrassed, before they even started. He was clearly an alien used to dominating his inferiors, and that reminder couldn’t hurt.

Sam, Nat, and Shara joined him in the reception hall, along with his partner and the director of the embassy, who formally welcomed Faal to this outpost of Spo territory.

When the director had gone, Faal surveyed them with satisfaction. He seemed to take particular note of Sam and Nat, who sat close together, their glasses occasionally winking in the light.

“It has been my desire to meet you both,” Faal said. “Since I had the honor of presiding over your rather remarkable trial.”

 He ignored Shara, who looked a little piqued. She’d been at the trial too. Her confession had changed everything.

Faal added something in the Merith language that Basher did not quite catch. Sam nodded and responded formally in the same language. He automatically put a hand to his glasses, as he often did when Akemi was translating or talking to him.

Faal clicked his beak in appreciation, and switched back to English. “Very prettily said.”

Now that Basher thought about it, it was rather amazing that Faal could speak English as well as he did.

Perhaps he’d begun to learn it so he could speak with Claire, Basher thought darkly.

Faal continued. “I do not know what you have uncovered about the dead Rik as yet, but I have come to offer my aid in supplying a Crosspoint to examine the bodies. A Crosspoint who is trained in micromanipulation can perform an... autopsy,” he stumbled slightly over the word, “A better autopsy than anyone else.”

Basher mentally saluted Faal. He’d offered something so valuable they could hardly refuse, even if they wanted to. “Thank you. That would be very valuable in our investigation. The Tergre have still not verified if there was poison in use.”

Faal smiled. “Of course not. I will send you the name of several respected Crosspoint practitioners. You may select whichever you will and send me the bill.”

That took the next objection out of Basher’s mouth. He wasn’t sure of Faal’s interest in this investigation, and he was loathe to use an examiner who lived in Faal’s pocket, metaphorically speaking. But if they could really pick which one... surely Faal couldn’t have influence over all the useful Crosspoint in Upper Selta?

“Thanks a lot,” Sam said. “That’s very generous of you.”

Faal inclined his head. “Perhaps in turn you would generously offer me a tour of the embassy? I have never had occasion to visit the Spo embassy before. These skylights are quite spectacular.”

Sam made eye contact with Basher and shrugged slightly, as if to say, “What can I do?”

If Basher thought the tour was an excuse for Faal to find out about Claire’s escape, he was wrong. Faal made no push to see the containment cells, and asked no questions about the escape. He did comment favorably on Sam’s suite.

“Very spacious. Do you all stay together?”

“Shara and I have our own suite,” Nat answered. “Exactly the same as this.”

Only at the end of the tour did Faal bring up Claire.

"No word on our fugitives?" he asked casually.

Basher stiffened. "Legally, you may have the animal, but the matter of the human is dependent on international law..."

"Yes," Faal interrupted. "I’ve been looking into that. The human stole from me personally - she is liable for that under civil charges."

Unfortunately, there was some precedent for Faal's claim. Basher and Akemi had been researching that as well - but it was definitely a gray area. Private property was a big deal in Council law, and Faal was right that it trumped a lot of other things.

Claire's status at the time of the theft would be critical. Would she be considered Faal's slave (slavery was not uncommon in the galaxy, though it was generally a form of indentured servitude), or would she be considered a prisoner of war, or a victim of private criminal activity? Akemi said arguments could be made for all three, thus it would depend on the judge.

“It’s rather a moot point right now, isn’t it?” Basher returned with fake cheerfulness. “I suppose we’ll have plenty of time to figure that out once our fugitives are found.”

They escorted him to the exit and Shara shook her head when he was gone. “That guy is creepy. And I’m an alien assassin, so when I say creepy, I mean that I wouldn’t object to killing him for you.”

For once Basher didn’t feel like telling her to shut up.