Silver Shark Read online

  "I don't," she said. "How far is it?"

  "About an hour by aerial at top speed. I promise to have you home before midnight."

  "Why midnight?"

  "When you take a young girl out with her parents' permission, it's understood that you must return by midnight." He shook his head. "It's just an expression. Forget it. Come with me."

  "Are you sure your friends won't mind my presence?"

  "I'm sure," he said.

  "I need to get my bag."

  "I need to shower. Tenth floor deck in fifteen minutes?"

  Fourteen minutes later she climbed into his aerial. Ven grinned at her. He wore civilian clothes: a dark pair of pants and a light grey shirt that molded to his chest and arms. His hair was still wet from the shower and she smelled a faint hint of his soap. She didn't know the name of the scent, but it made her want to kiss him and see if she could taste it.

  "I'm glad you decided to join me," he said.

  "Me too." She just hoped she wouldn't regret it later.

  The aerial shot into orange light of the afternoon.

  Ven pushed the com and typed in the number. A man's face appeared on the screen: masculine, intense, with harsh grey eyes. His hair was almost blue black. Recognition flooded the man's eyes. He smiled and became a different person - warm, welcoming. "There you are. We expected you earlier."

  "I'm on the way to you," Ven said. "Celino, I'm bringing a guest."

  "What kind of a guest?" a female voice called off screen.

  "A young female one," Celino said. "She is a co-worker."

  "Oh!" the woman off-screen said. "I better make desert."

  *** *** ***

  Celino and Imelda Carvanna lived in a beautiful two-story structure with cream walls and a wrap-around balcony shielded by a green roof. Surrounded by orchards and trees, the house drowned in a vast garden, and as Claire walked next to Ven down the twisted path from the aerial landing pad, a sea of dahlias bloomed on both sides of her: peach, orange, yellow, blood-red, deep purple, blue fringed with white, some large, some small, some with wide petals, some with narrow frayed florets, others a mere single ring of petals around a flat disk in the center. It was as if someone had taken a rainbow, put it into a blender, and tossed the result out.

  "Anemone," Ven pointed out different varieties. "Waterlily. Ball. Starburst."

  "I didn't know you were a botanist," she said.

  "I'm not. Growing dahlias is like a national sport. I remember one year a neighbor somehow bred one that was indigo and wouldn't let anyone have any tubers. Almost started a feud. I think someone got stabbed over it."

  Claire laughed.

  "It's not funny," Ven said, smiling. "Dahlias are serious business."

  Celino and Imelda waited for them on the porch of their house. On the ride over Ven had told her most of the details. Celino's family and his had been neighbors. Celino was twelve years older than Ven, forty-five to Ven's thirty-three, and the two of them didn't pay much attention to each other until Celino, who had become a financial shark and accumulated a huge fortune, decided to retire. He required bionet protection for his rather large fortune and business interests, and so he looked up an old neighbor. They soon became close friends.

  Looking at Celino Carvanna now, Claire could barely see the traces of the ruthless financial magnate. He seemed perfectly amicable. Charming even.

  "This is Claire," Ven said. "She works with me. Claire, this is Celino and that's Meli."

  Celino smiled wide and nodded to her. "Welcome!"

  "Thank you."

  Celino slapped Ven's shoulder. "I have news for you. Come."

  They went into the house.

  Meli Carvanna smiled at her. She was short, dark-haired, with a big breasts and wide hips, and beautiful brown eyes on a tan face. She looked as if she belonged on the porch of this house, in the garden of dahlias, on this planet. This is what the women Ven grew up with looked like, Claire realized. Standing next to her, she felt at once awkward and inadequate. She would never be like this. She shouldn't have come.

  "No matter how much time Celino spent in the city, he's still a man of the provinces," Meli said. "Men retire to discuss Important Business, and we women are expected to entertain ourselves by cooking. Since I already finished dinner, I say we revolt and drink wine on the balcony instead."

  "Very well."

  Claire followed Meli through the house to the balcony, where they sat in the padded chairs, a small table with two glasses and a bottle of wine between them. Meli poured the wine into two glasses. The golden liquid filled the glasses.

  "You must excuse them," Meli said. "Knowing Ven, the Sangori problem is driving him up the wall. There is nothing he hates more than being made to look foolish. He detests it. Always did, since he was a child."

  "You knew him when you were children?" Claire kept her face carefully neutral.

  Meli nodded. "We all grew up in the same area. Ven's cousin dated my youngest brother. Did I say something unpleasant?"

  Claire looked at her. She was sure none of her emotions had reflected on her face.

  "I'm trained to assess minute facial expression," Meli said. "Yours was one of distaste."

  "Why would one require such a training?" Claire said.

  "I'm an assassin," Meli said. "Or I was, rather. For many years. It's considered prudent to rapidly identify emotions in my line of work." She smiled. "It keeps you breathing longer. So why distaste?"

  Claire looked at the flowers. "You reminded me that I am an outsider."

  "Oh? Where are you from?"

  "Uley."

  "So how did you and Ven meet?"

  "He hired me." Claire closed her mouth, hoping to leave it at that, but the older woman watched her with a rapt expression. Silence stretched.

  "It started with the war ending," Claire said. "I worked as a secretary, so I was viewed as civilian..."

  Twenty minutes later, when she was done explaining, Meli smiled. "I'm glad you and Ven found each other. Celino and I married late by kinsmen standards and Ven is almost as old as Celino was when we married. ."

  Claire looked into her empty wine glass. "I think you might have an incorrect impression. Ven and I are not a couple. I'm his admin."

  Meli sipped her wine. "I see. There go my hopes. It's impolite to listen in on a conversation that doesn't concern you."

  Claire drew back. Something rustled in the garden below. A small tan hand clasped one of the wooden columns supporting the roof. The second hand joined the first and a child pulled himself up on the balcony rail. He was tan, with Celino's grey eyes and Meli's chocolate brown hair. A streak of dried blood marked his temple and his left forearm sported a long knife cut.

  "How did it go?" Meli asked.

  The boy raised his face. "I kicked his ass."

  "Good. Go wash up. Your father will expect full account at dinner."

  The boy ducked inside.

  "Neighbor kid problems," Meli said.

  "Yours is a strange culture," Claire said. "Beautiful, vibrant, and passionate, but also savage."

  Meli stretched "It's the planet. It heats our blood and makes us do crazy things. Resistance is futile, Claire. It will claim you as its own sooner or later."

  The bionet jungle flashed in Claire's mind. "I think it already has."

  When Celino and Ven emerged from the study, they moved to the dining room. They had dinner, a delicious parade of perfectly seasoned dishes, during which the ten-year-old Ramiro Carvanna had to describe in excruciating detail every moment of his fight with twelve-year-old Soldano Chellini. The Sangori problem was discussed briefly - the always prosperous family had made a number of costly investments that failed. The firm was teetering on the brink of collapse and the establishment of the bionet servers was Savien's desperate attempt to project an image of thriving success and drum up more business. Celino pounced on the opportunity as if he'd smelled blood in the water. She couldn't quite follow the intricacies of their conversation, but if ev
erything went their way, Carvanna and Escana would own most of Sangori by the quarter's end.

  Ven and Carvanna caught up on the latest gossip. Someone married someone else. Someone's sister left the planet. Someone had engineered a short-life, weapon-grade plant virus and nuked the rival's garden with it. Names floated by her. She could've used her training to memorize them, but she didn't bother. What was the point? They were too vivid and too bright, too familiar with each other, and she simply faded in the background.

  Later Claire found herself back on the balcony, standing at the rail, watching the last splashes of sunset as the star rolled behind the gardens. Ven came looking for her. At first, she ignored his approaching mind, then she ignored his footsteps, then he leaned on the rail next to her, and she couldn't ignore him any longer.

  "Do you like them?" he asked.

  "They are very pretty," she said, surveying the flowers.

  "I meant Celino and Imelda."

  Why did it matter if she liked them? If she said no, what would it change? "They are wonderful hosts."

  He leaned closer, searching her face for something. "Did you not like being here? You didn't say more than two words at dinner."

  She wanted to grab him and shake him. Why? Why would he bring her here to this little paradise and show her what she could never have? Why introduce her to a perfect woman she could never be? It was cruel. "I'm just a little tired," she said with a small smile.

  Ven turned, leaning with his back on the rail. "Was someone rude to you?"

  "Not at all. Your friends were perfectly courteous."

  "Then what is it?"

  "It's nothing, Venturo. I am just a little tired."

  He exhaled. "This would be so much easier if you were a psycher."

  She pushed from the rail. "Well, I am not." And even if I was, I would lock you out of my mind.

  His mind reached out, hovering next to her.

  "No," she said sharply. Now wasn't the time for mind scans. If he discovered her shell, he would put two and two together. He still didn't know if he wanted to hire or to kill the mysterious psycher. Venturo was proud. If he realized how thoroughly she tricked him, he would feel extremely foolish. The choice between kill and hire wouldn't be so difficult then. If he fought with her, one of them would not survive. She didn't want to die and she didn't want to hurt him.

  Venturo peered at her. "How did you know I wanted to scan your mind?"

  She gave him a cold look. "I guessed. You have difficulty taking no for an answer."

  "Does this mean you didn't really want to come with me?"

  "That's not what I meant."

  "Claire, I told you, you didn't have to accept my invitation if you didn't want to."

  "I wanted to come," she said.

  She could tell by the look on his face that he didn't believe her. "I think it's better I take you home," he said. "After all, I promised to return you to your life at midnight."

  He strode back inside the house. She wanted to scream, but venting her frustration in a loud shriek was out of the question, so she clenched her fist and smashed it into the rail.

  Chapter Seven

  Claire awoke instantly. Someone's mind had brushed against hers. She could still feel the traces of the foreign presence.

  Claire rolled out of bed. The owner of the mind waited outside. It wasn't Venturo. His mind felt differently. Besides, after their silence-filled flight back to the city, a visit from him was highly unlikely.

  She pulled a pair of pants over her underwear and stepped out onto the balcony.

  The light-eyed DDS psycher stood on the ground below her windows. His name surfaced from her memory: Pelori.

  He tossed back his long hair, jumped, and scrambled up the wall, swinging himself up to crouch on the rail of her balcony. A combat agility implant. Nice.

  A thought zinged to her. "I know you are not what you seem."

  She'd thought as much. He had touched her mind and sensed the shell.

  "Escana doesn't deserve you. He doesn't even know and he is too blind to see it."

  Ven would know, but he was too polite to go ruffling through her thoughts. It was a courtesy she treasured.

  "Join us. We will give you things. Money. Prestige. Respect. Safety. Better house."

  "You're wasting your time," she said aloud.

  "Why do you stay with him? What has he done that we can't duplicate?"

  "He brings me tea."

  "What?"

  "When I hit rock bottom and needed help, he gave it to me expecting nothing in return. He takes interest in me. He cares about my welfare. He is kind to me."

  Pelori turned his head, like a bird examining an interesting time. "Castilla will give you enough money to buy all the kindness you want."

  "No."

  "What if I make you come with me?"

  Claire laughed. "If you touch me, I will take your mind apart."

  "You don't have the power."

  "Try me."

  He pondered it for a long moment. He had no way of gauging her power or guessing at how fast she could dismantle the shell.

  Pelori dropped off the balcony, landing in an easy crouch. "I will return."

  Claire went inside. She was watched. She wasn't sure if he had contacted Castilla or if his visit was an independent effort. Either way, it would end badly.

  Her magic dream of happy life was beginning to unravel at the seams. If she let herself get caught up in mourning the unfairness of it, she would fail to hold it together. The mere possibility of losing everything filled her with fear.

  Claire crossed her arms. She had to keep it together. She had to function and she would fight for her dream.

  *** *** ***

  Monday came too fast. She had arrived at her regular time and sank into work, refusing to permit any distractions, including Ven's mind in the nearby office.

  The digital screen in her desk chimed, sending a glowing pulse of pale blue through her screen. She checked the origin. Calena, Building Security. Now what?

  She took the call. Calena's face filled the screen. "Claire, there are people here to see you," she said. "They say it's an emergency. They seem agitated."

  Calena panned the camera to the side. Tonya, Charles, and Doreem Nagi leaning on a teenager who had to be Edu for support. Her stomach lurched. Something bad had happened. "I'm coming down."

  Claire hurried to the elevator, her heels clicking on the transparent floor. A few seconds later the elevator spat her into the lobby. She crossed the tiled space.

  Tonya saw her and would've ran forward if Charles hadn't caught her. Doreem's face looked grey. Edu stared at her, wide-eyed.

  "What happened?"

  "They arrested Kosta!" Tonya breathed.

  "What?"

  "He got a recommendation for a job," Charles said, his face pale. "They looked at his job history and made him log into the bionet. He had no choice."

  And the moment he logged in, his mind lit up with an AI's mark.

  Her mind slipped into battle calm. "Where is he now?"

  "The Security Forces took him away," Tonya said.

  He was in physical custody. There was nothing she could do through the bionet or out of it.

  "They're going to deport him. Melko will kill him," Tonya moaned.

  Melko would definitely kill him.

  Doreem Nagi pushed away from his grandson. His knees began to bend. "Please save my grandson..."

  She caught him before he knelt. "Don't kneel. Please."

  Charles helped him back up.

  There was only one solution. "Come with me."

  They followed her to the elevator. She brought them to fifteenth floor and led them to the conference room only a few feet from hallway leading to Venturo's office. It was the same room she'd sat in six weeks ago, waiting for her interview. The irony.

  "Please rest here," Claire told them. "Bathroom is on your left. Wait for me. Don't go anywhere and don't speak to anyone. Refer anyone who asks why yo
u are here to me."

  Charles and Edu gently lowered Doreem on the couch. Claire turned and strode down the hallway.

  Ven's office walls were transparent. She saw him behind her desk, watching her as she walked.

  She had no idea what she would say.

  Claire stopped before the door and rapped her knuckles on it. The glass slid aside and she entered the office.

  "Sit down," Ven said.

  She saw the set line of his jaw. His face was grim, but whether it was anger or determination, she couldn't tell.

  "I need help," she said.

  He leaned back. "I'm listening."

  "A young man from my building on Uley is in trouble."

  "How bad?"

  "He logged into the bionet where he was bitten by an AI defensive protocol. The protocol belonged to a security forces installation. He has been arrested. If he is deported, he will be killed on arrival to Uley."

  "Would they really kill him?" Ven asked.

  "Yes. They informed us that anyone who returned to the planet would be terminated." She leaned forward. "He is a child, Ven. Barely eighteen. He has his whole life ahead of him."

  "And this is important to you?"

  "Yes. His grandfather made sure that my mother didn't die alone in poverty."

  Venturo's eyes were still dark. "I can't call to the security forces and demand they let him go. I need a reason. Can you claim that the boy is your relative?"

  She was an orphan, and Doreem would do anything to save his grandson. "Yes."

  "Then there is a way we can quash the deportation. You would have to become a client of the Escana family."

  She blinked.

  "As a client, you become an honorary kinsman and can't be deported. Neither can your family. As your patron, I would be expected to make the call to security forces and demand the boy's release." Venturo leaned forward, his arms on the desk. "The relationship between patron and client is complicated. The client serves the patron's family with devotion and loyalty. If the patron gives an order to the client, that order can't be refused, even if it costs the client his life. However, the patron, in turn, is obligated to use his influence and resources to take care of his client and assumes responsibility for the client's actions. Being a client is an honor. You're worth it."