''Continue, Gunny'' was ice. Cold. Sharp. Full of death.
''A search of the area turned up no Mrs. Trouble, sir. She often kills her squawker, and had done so most of the day. We'd been tracking her by the Marines. We're getting nothing at all now, and we've done our best to activate her communicator and interrogate it. No joy, sir.''
The pause was brittle. Pregnant. Explosive. Kris stepped into it.
''Gramma Ruth hired some local protection people. Have you found their bodies?''
''No evidence of them, their bodies or their presence, Your Highness. Like her, they're just gone.''
''When we find them, they'll either be dead or lead us straight to her,'' Kris snapped. The captain nodded agreement.
Kris turned back to the gang leaders. Their eyes locked.
''Let's assume for the moment that this is as big a surprise to you as it is to me.''
Heads nodded vigorously.
''Let's assume that we can keep on being friends. Business partners, maybe.''
Heads nodded faster.
''You want some money? Money that you will live long enough to take to the bank. Not like that pot of gold on my head?''
Heads stopped nodding. Kris suspected they saw it as a trick question. Didn't know how to respond.
''Help me find my grandmother. Any little bit. Anything that leads me to my grandmother alive will be paid for very well. You'll like me as a friend. You don't want me as your enemy. Do we understand each other?''
They eyed each other, the gangers and the princess. Maybe her need was more understandable to them than her power. That was fine by Kris. She wanted her Gramma Ruth back. Alive.
Kris turned and marched out of the restaurant. Behind her, Marines did their retrograde movement with professional efficiency. The punks seemed to shrink as the chance that they would live to see the sunset increased.
There was talk in a low hum behind Kris as she went down the steps two at a time. The gangers had gotten too close to one of those damn Longknifes. They'd dealt themselves into the situation. They had no one to blame but themselves. As so often happened around Longknifes, it was time to take sides.
The middle was washing away.
Only the Longknife side and the losing side would soon be left.
But there was always the chance that this time might be different. For the first time, the Longknifes and the losing side might be the same.
Among themselves, the gangs would decide where to place their bet. Who they thought would win.
Kris had already placed her bet. Damn the odds. Everything on Longknife to win.
30
The Marines lay where they fell.
Verifying their death had not required moving them.
10-mm grenades in the face don't leave much chance that even a Marine can survive the initial attack.
The Marine techs and Chief Beni joined the local cops trying to scrape some evidence from a scene that offered little.
The other Marines joined the cops patrolling the perimeter, keeping out the gawkers. Officially, that was the job of the local police. But the police lieutenant detailed to tell the Marines to stand down took one look at Gunny Brown's face and quickly offered to share the patrol duty with the Marines.
Smart cop.
Kris found Inspector Johnson at her elbow within a minute of her arrival. No surprise there. Nelly was taking the raw feed from the Marines and anything else they could capture from the police and passing it along to Kris. It wasn't much.
Rather than wait for the local cop to say something inane, Kris said, ''What do you think?''
Johnson rubbed his chin. ''Hard to say. Could be related to those two attempts on your life. Then again, it could be some local campus issue. Heavens knows, General Trouble has made enemies in his long life of terrorizing whoever he was paid to. His evil past could be catching up with his wife.''
Terrorizing whoever he was paid to. Did the inspector actually think that was a soldier's job? Did he suppose it was because it was his job? Kris filed that away and asked the easy question, ''That what you're going to put in your report?''
''It would certainly make it easier for me.''
''You know she is my great-grandmother?''
''I think I read that somewhere.''
''I want her back.''
''No doubt.''
Kris did not like the attitude she was hearing from the local cop in charge of her handling. She turned to face him and chose her words with a club.
''I want my gramma back. I will have my gramma back. I will not face my great-grandfather when next I see him and try explaining why I was not able to get his wife back to him.''
''We'll do everything we can.'' might have sounded good. But the vagueness around Johnson's eyes gave Kris no comfort.
''You will do more. You will get Ruth back. Alive.''
The cop scowled at Kris's demand. ''May I remind you that Eden operates under the rule of law?''
Kris snorted. Her father made the laws of Wardhaven…and occasionally ignored them. ''Make sure this is one time that the rule of law works for the victim.''
''We shall see,'' Johnson said.
Kris didn't have time to waste repeating demands that should be clear to a concrete block…and that blockhead's boss. She turned her back on the inspector and strode away.
''Captain,'' she said, coming up beside DeVar.
''Your Highness.''
''Are you busy?''
He looked around as if hunting for some killer to throttle. He scowled at the nothingness. ''Not at the moment.''
''Captain, if you could afford me the help of a few good Marines, Jack and I are about to pay a visit to the dean of graduate studies at this place.''
''Isn't he the one that helped Mrs. Tordon hire some protection?'' Jack asked.
''The selfsame.''
''I was hoping to have a quiet discussion with him,'' Captain DeVar said. He signaled half a dozen marines in full dress blues and reds…and long rifles at the ready.
The small group moved purposefully across the campus, staying as inconspicuous as possible. That is to say that anyone who saw them took one look and quickly scurried off to find something important to do elsewhere.
A glance over Kris's shoulder showed that several had added themselves to her visitation team. Abby she understood. Chief Beni and the kid, and his girl were there, too. Kris made a note to see about cutting down on the menagerie following her. If she wasn't careful, she'd end up with a full zoo.
No, make that worst zoo.
The dean of graduate studies had a top floor corner office in an old brick building. Kris took the stairs two at a time. Only Chief Beni ended up huffing and puffing.
''You better take up jogging, Chief,'' Abby upbraided him, ''or one of these day Kris will take off and you're going to get left behind.''
''You really think so?'' He sounded more hopeful than repentant.
Kris led the charge into the dean's front office.
''Do you have an appointment,'' a middle-aged secretary said, trying to interpose herself between Kris and the door marked Dean of Graduate Studies in gold leaf.
Kris got to the doorknob first. ''The Dean has an appointment with me,'' Kris said as she let herself in. A very tight-lipped light brigade charged right behind her.
''I'm sorry, Professor Rosemon, I tried to stop her.''
Kris quickly crossed the distance to a wide wooden desk. She used the name so kindly provided and offered her hand.
''Good afternoon, Professor Rosemon. I am Princess Kristine of Wardhaven, and a major stockholder in Nuu Enterprises. You know the company. I think we fund several research projects your university is working on.'' Battle armor might not melt in Kris's mouth, but butter definitely would. It seemed like a good way to start with a man who spent his days in a wood-paneled office, lined with rows of leather-bound books.