CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Stella Vatta had never enjoyed playing courier. Now that she was officially Vatta’s CEO and once more officially a Slotter Key citizen, she found it annoying that both Ky and Aunt Grace expected her to keep shuttling their correspondence back and forth just because neither could leave their respective residences. Adding the sergeant major of Slotter Key’s military to the list of stops made her furious. Grace Vatta, as Rector of Defense, had plenty of personnel at her command; surely she didn’t need to pick on Stella, who had, after all, an interstellar enterprise to run.
She had worked herself into a sizable fury by the time she reached her office, where a man she had not met since they were both teenagers waited in the reception area.
“Benny—Benny Quindlan?”
“Yes, Stella—Sera Vatta, I should say, as this is a business visit, not a social one.” He looked very grown-up, in his business suit with his expensive briefcase and perfectly polished shoes. “I’m sure you didn’t expect a visit from me—”
“No. No, I didn’t.” Why was he here? Was this about the blast that had brought down Vatta’s headquarters six—seven?—years ago? About the trade rivalry that had preceded that? Or… what?
“I would prefer to speak privately,” he said, with a frosty glance at her receptionist.
“Sera Stella, your schedule—” her receptionist said.
“Clear me fifteen minutes,” Stella said. “Benny, come on. Fifteen minutes is literally all I can spare until this evening.”
“Thank you,” he said, without any hint of meekness, and followed her into her office. She was glad in that moment that she had sent the delicate little desk her mother had used back to storage, and found a plain, moderate-sized one instead. She had also changed out the spindly-legged chairs for solid ones that could take a man’s weight without wobbling.
“Have a seat,” she said, going behind her desk. “What is it?”
He sat but did not lean back, hands crossed on top of the briefcase balanced on his thighs. “I am in a difficult position,” he began.
“We all are,” Stella said. The vid-plate on her desk writhed as her receptionist wangled minutes out of a schedule already crowded. He flushed; he’d always had a pink face that reddened easily.
“Sorry,” he said. “I know our families have been competitors and sometimes enemies for a long time. When I learned—when I heard—about the explosives—”
“You were appalled, of course. Get on with it.”
“It’s this.” Without further verbal delay he opened the briefcase and removed a file, which he laid on Stella’s desk. “I now know why our families were enemies. It’s in there. That’s a photographic copy of the file, and if my uncle finds out I’ve given it to you, he will kill me—literally—me and my wife and our twins. If he knew I had entered this building without his explicit order he would terminate my employment and all contact with the family. Luckily, he did order me to enter this building and give you a message from him, which I will in a moment. This”—he laid his hand on the file—“is not his message. This is my—I suppose you could say my atonement for the death of your father. I didn’t know about the explosives until afterward, but I still feel… anyway. This is my uncle’s message, to be delivered word for word.”
He took a deep breath, pulled a sheet from the briefcase, and read from it in an expressionless voice. “If you think this is over, you are wrong. It will never be over until Grace Lane Vatta, that murdering traitorous bitch, is dead, and also every offspring of Stavros Vatta and Gerard Vatta. I have no quarrel with other Vattas, and intend nothing but a measured, appropriate response to what wrongs were done the Quindlan family. I had nothing to do with the offplanet attacks on Vatta; that was their own family. I may hope that Vatta Enterprises collapses, but if some distant cousin can take over, I don’t care. Signed, Michael Quindlan.” Benny Quindlan’s hand shook slightly as he shoved the paper back in his briefcase. “I tried to talk him out of it. I couldn’t. That’s all. I have to go.” He snapped the briefcase closed, stood up, and was almost to the door before Stella could find her voice.
“Benny—”
He stopped and turned. Face professionally blank, but she saw pain in his eyes.
“I don’t hate you, Benny.”
“You may after you read that.”
“No. I won’t. I will fight to live and save my family, but I won’t hate you.”
He nodded without saying anything, opened the door, and let himself out.
Every offspring of Gerard and Stavros. Quindlan had come close before, and killed more than that both at Vatta headquarters and on Corleigh. She and Ky and Jo’s young twins had been the only survivors, and now Quindlan was still determined to kill them all. But maybe not Toby, if she could trust that—and why should she? Except that the note had sounded desperate, like someone at the end of his strength, determined to finish something he’d promised to accomplish long ago. And her job, her one job now, was to see that she and Ky and the twins stayed alive until… could any truce last, even if one could be negotiated? And then it dawned on her: she was not an offspring of Stavros Vatta. Would the Quindlans believe her? Not Michael, she was sure. He gave the orders others followed; his sending Benny was an unsubtle signal that the boy who’d once had a crush on her was now his uncle’s obedient servant.
Her assistant pinged her. Whatever was in the file Benny had delivered would have to wait; she had a long day’s work ahead of her already. She put the file into her private safe and put a serene smile on her face for her first scheduled appointment.
Midmorning she did manage to call the house and let Ky know that the Quindlans were still dangerous and after blood.
“So am I,” Ky said. “If I knew whether they were involved in the military thing—”
“Never mind that. Is Sera Lane there?”
“Yes. She’s frustrated that she can’t get downloads from the others’ implants.”
“If she’s not busy, ask her to come here—and bring Rodney—because I have something I want her to see that I can’t talk about even over a secured line.”
“Don’t shut me out—”
“I’m not. She can take it back with her. Less obviously than I can send a courier.”
“I’ll tell her.” Ky switched off.
Stella rolled her eyes and made a face at her desk before heading to the conference room for her next appointment.
Ky had spent the morning working on her own rescue plan—much of it on the organization she knew they needed. It had all been casual up to now, but the mission itself would be anything but. She used what she had learned talking to all the others—especially Teague, Rafe, and Rodney—and had just finished some organizational charts when Stella called. Ky gave Sera Lane and Rodney their orders, then went into the kitchen, where the two women were busy helping Barash with the prep for the rest of the day’s cooking.
Despite their continuing peril, they looked relaxed and cheerful as they worked and chatted, each with a cutting board and knife and stack of vegetables. Chairs scraped as Ky appeared; she waved them down. “The lawyer’s gone off to Vatta headquarters; she may be there all day, but she’ll still be working on our problems.” She pulled out a chair for herself and sat down. “Rodney’s gone with her. Something’s going on with the Rector and the sergeant major; I expect Rodney to come back with some useful information.”