“So what,” Jordan asked with sudden sharp focus, “would anybody at Svetlansk have against whatever’s going on at this new construction?”
And how much to tell Jordan? How many secrets to dance around? He’d gotten a response with the truth, a real change of disposition out of Jordan. He could make Ari mad. But Ari said she wanted to help Jordan. And was thatthe truth?
“Jordan,” he said, “I’m going to tell you something I don’t want to go beyond you and Paul. The new construction is another township in the works. Name of Strassenberg.”
“Strassenberg.” Jordan gave a short, bitter laugh. “My God. She’s building a city.”
But he kept his voice down when he said it.
“Dad, I’m about as close to Ari as I can get. And that’s likely to be a permanent arrangement.” Jordan drew back a little at that, and Justin brought his hand down on Jordan’s, pinning it. “Just listen to me. Permanent arrangement. It’s where I live. I’m not her lover. I’m her teacher. And I’m not inclined to say no.”
“Clearly it pays well.”
“I want to do it. Dad. I get things out of the arrangement…”
“Oh, I’ll bet you do.”
“Listen to me! She’s damned smart, is that a surprise? But I get access to the first Ari’s notes, so you should know money isn’t the game. Neither is sex.” Jordan tried to move the hand and he held it, hard. “Listen. Talk to me about this. I want you to understand me, just once. I’m learning. I missed a hell of a lot during the bad years. Same as you. I’m getting a break, and I’m taking it. I don’t think that’s such a bad deal.”
“Count your change. That’s all I’ll say.”
“She’ll use some of the things I know, yes. But meanwhile I get input in what’s going on in the world, I get some policy input, and that’s important. I get to have a say.”
“Sure. As long as you agree with her you’ll have a major say. Wake up.”
“I’ll have to see how it plays out. I won’t know. But I’m not locking myself away from the chance.”
“You look pretty well locked away to me. You don’t get a say in who you can let in’ the door–do you?”
“Dad. Eventually, yes. This isn’t the time…”
“Bullshit.” Jordan jerked his hand free. “Paul. Have you had enough?”
“We’ll walk you back,” Justin said.
“The hell. With those two over there? The hell you will. Paul. Come on.” He stood up. Looked down at Justin. “You’re rich. You pay the bill.”
“Sit down. Please.”
“No, thanks.”
Jordan headed for the door, Paul in his wake.
Justin got up. Grant did. “Grant,” Justin asked him, “pay the bill.”
“We don’t split up.” Grant said. “If you go after him, we go.”
“Grant, just for God’s sake, take care of it.” He shoved through the narrow gap between two occupied chairs and started to leave, and Grant did, both of them heading for the door, but Jordan and Paul were already outside.
“Hey!” a female voice yelled.
They knew the waitress. Justin stopped, half‑turned to show his face in the dim ambient light. “Justin Warrick, Greta, just put it on my tab. All of it.” He could see their guards on their feet and starting out. He turned, hardly having stopped moving, and got out the door.
A presence at the side caught his eye–two ReseuneSec agents and Jordan and Paul up against the frontage of the bar–familiar sight, but not familiar with his father and Paul involved.
“Hey!” Justin said, and immediately faced a drawn stunner. He raised his hands to show them vacant. Grant did.
And about that time two more on their side came out of the bar.
Guns came next.
“For God’s sake!” Justin exclaimed. “We’re on the same side!”
“Interfering in an arrest,” one of the outside guards said.
“On what grounds?” Jordan shot back.
Justin, hands still lifted, said, “Dad, just shut up!”
“Both of you, up against the wall.”
“Don’t move!” That, from one of their own pair. “Don’t anybody move. They’re under our watch.”
“Where’s your orders?” one of the others asked. “Who are you?”
“Mark BM, special assignment, Alpha Wing.”
“There isn’t any Alpha Wing.”
“There is,” Justin said, “as of today.”
“Shut up,” the agent advised him. “Get over there.”
“Ser Warrick isn’t moving,” Mark said. “Special assignment, Ariane Emory’s personal guard. Alpha Wing. Ser Warrick. Stand away from the wall.”
“Don’t move!”
“Call–” Justin began to suggest, and flinched and shut up when he heard the hum of a stunner.
“We will shoot if you fire that.” That was the other voice from his side. “Gerry GB, Alpha Wing. Call your headquarters.”
Justin stood still. Grant did. They’d drawn a crowd. “Hell of a fix,” he said, and remembered what he had in his pocket. And he didn’t dare reach for it. He found occasion to lower his hands a degree. In case.
“Stand still!”
“This is a warning,” Gerry said. “We are authorized. Call your headquarters.”
“Better do it,” Justin muttered. “Director Hicks is going to be damned mad if you and her security start shooting at each other. Let me get my com and I’ll call Yanni Schwartz if you want to take the chance.”
“I’m calling HQ,” the other agent said.
“I want to know.” Jordan said, “on what charges we’re being arrested.”
“Shut up, Dad.”
“I want to know!” Jordan said sharply.
“Because there’s an alert out on you. Detain and hold for HQ.”
“And I want to know who gave that order,” Justin said. “Was it Hicks? I want to see badges, and authorization.”
“Stay put.”
“I’ll find out,” Justin said, seeing he was gaining ground. “You can bet I will, and if I can’t, Emory’s bodyguard will.”
There was a brief exchange on the com. Justin couldn’t hear the other side of it, but he heard, “We’ve found Warrick, ser, in company with his son and two azi–”
“Grant ALX,” Grant supplied, “and Paul AP.”
“Grant and Paul,” the other agent said, and began making signs to his partner, who took a step back. “No. Not actually in detention, ser.” Hand‑sign for “back way off.” “We’ve got a pair in uniform with lethals claiming to be bodyguard from Alpha Wing. Claiming they’ve got jurisdiction.” Moment of silence. “Yes, ser. Understood, ser. Thank you, ser. –We’re to back off,” he said to his partner. “Apologies. You’re free to go.”
“The hell!” Jordan shouted.
“Jordan,” Justin said, and quietly went and got Jordan by the arm. “Just come with me.” Jordan’s cheek was red–contact with the ornate frontage, likely, not a voluntary contact. “Paul. Let’s just go.”
Jordan wiped at his cheek and looked at his hand, and looked venom at the two agents, only slightly less so at Mark and Gerry.
“It’s all right, Dad. We’re going now. Grant, Paul, can you go back in there and settle the tab? Mark, go with them, will you?”
“Yes, ser,” Mark said. And the other two agents, nameless, went on down the mall. Not unreported. There’d been badge numbers, and Justin would bet Grant remembered. Not counting the report Mark and Gerry might file.
“It’s going to bruise,” Justin said, still holding Jordan’s arm, and Jordan shook him off.
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are. Thank God they really were ReseuneSec.”