“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.”
Jordan gave him a stark stare. “Any reason to expect anything else wandering around the mall?”
There wasn’t. But there could be. “You attract cards, remember?”
“No fucking way to run things,” Jordan said. “Damn!”
“Glad I came after you,” Justin said.
“Why did you?”
“Just generally worried,” he said. “Worried about your safety.” The com wasn’t the only thing he had in his pocket. He felt in his pants pocket and found the old keycard. “I can’t bring you into Alpha Wing. But I can get you into Wing One. If there’s anything else afoot–that’ll stop some things.”
“Since when, Wing One?”
“Since it’s mostly vacant, since we have a perfectly good apartment there we still have keys to. You’ll have to go out for meals–I recommend the Admin section. I don’t know if there’ll be sheets, but there’s a bed and I know they left the furniture. Tonight, with things going crazy like this–I just want you to go there, Dad. Come on. You know you’re curious.”
“I know that Wing pretty damned well. I know her apartment–pretty damned well.”
“She’s not in it. She’s in Alpha Wing now. Security there’s still tight, however.”
“Well, it’s tight here! You saw what came of it.”
“If I tell Wing One Security you belong there for a while, I don’t think anybody’s going to bother you. Dad, just do me the favor. Please. I’m begging you. For Paul’s sake. Don’t mess around with this. You’re on somebody’s list, and some stupid order got fired off when the alert went out, maybe an accident, maybe an accident somebody just let happen, but I don’t want you running the risk. Bruises heal. A stunner’s not damned funny.” He pulled the keycard out. Offered it. “Yours, until I get this sorted out.”
“You get us in there,” Jordan said with a shadow of that sour quirk he could take on, “and Security doesn’t nail us twice in the process…and I’ll be very interested to see how it plays with her highness.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“So nice to have a son who has pull.”
“Come on,” he said. Paul and Grant came out of the bar, mission accomplished, he trusted, and he caught Grant’s eye and then turned to Mark and Gerry. “You understand what I’m doing. I’m moving my father and his companion into Wing One, our apartment there, where they’ll be safe. I want you to advise your command we’re doing it, tell them what’s happened, and say my father would appreciate it if he has sheets, towels, and a bar setup.”
“Yes, ser,” Gerry said.
He’d tossed the last in. Gerry seemed in no wise fazed by the order. He motioned Jordan on toward the down escalator.
“We haven’t got a change of clothes,” Jordan said.
“Welcome to my ever‑changing world,” Justin said, and turned his head toward Mark. “Mark, my father’s had no chance to pack anything. Can you arrange him and Paul to have clothes, personal kit, that sort of thing?”
“We’re going to get turned back at the door,” Jordan predicted.
But they didn’t. The Alpha Wing keycard got them right through, and the ever‑present Wing One security guards said, “Justin Warrick, ser. We have orders from Alpha Wing. Go on up.”
They rode the lift to their old apartment. Silence aboard, just the thump of the car on its tracks. They got out into a hall as brightly lit as ever, right by their door. “Go ahead,” Justin said to Jordan as they reached the key‑slot. “You’ve got the key.”
Jordan put it in. Opened the door. Their living room, their couch. And a small tray of canapes, and another of vodka and glasses.
“That wasn’t sitting here all day,” Jordan said.
“That’s from the party, pretty clearly,” Justin said. He walked over and turned on the autobar. “Still stocked. Good they brought the glasses.”
“Clearly they’ve got a key to this place.” Jordan said.
“There’s no place they can’t get, actually,” Justin said, and took a look into the bedroom. “Sheets and towels. I imagine your clothes will arrive shortly.”
“Fast service,” Jordan said.
“She approves,” Justin said, fixing Jordan with a level stare. “Or you wouldn’t get the canapes.”
Jordan didn’t say a thing. Just walked back into the hall, had a look at the bedroom, and walked back again. “You’re right. Black and white and grey. A psychotic’s dream.”
“The bed’s not bad,” he said. “Pretty comfortable, actually.”
“What’s the rent?” Jordan said. “Your immortal soul?”
“Call it caretaking. Ari’s moved. We’ve moved. They’re going to be renovating all over the Wing, what I hear; but this place can wait.” He gave a nod toward the adjoining wall. “That was her apartment. Which I suppose you know. We’re across one major wall and a security gate, but not that far away. Assuming you want to stay here.”
“Is there ice?” Jordan asked.
“The bar says there’s ice.”
“Then we’ll stay,” Jordan said, sitting down on the couch. “Paul, all right with you?”
“Fine,” Paul said, and in passing, shot a look of gratitude Justin’s way, just that.
Justin nodded. Looked at Grant, then, and at Mark and Gerry, before glancing back at Jordan. Paul had gone to the bar, was preparing a drink. “Lunch tomorrow, Dad?”
“I can’t afford those fancy places over in Admin.”
“My treat. Just shut up about it. You get those designs done and you’ll have income again.”
“They could fucking pay me while I’m working.”
“Look, there’s a perfectly good office in there. Not like working in your living room. Computer connections probably work.” It was a thought. He didn’t know if they’d gotten that equipment out, and he went back specifically to look. Everything of that sort was stripped. “Your stuff’s coming in,” he reported, coming back into the living room. “Plenty of room for it. I’ll talk to Ari about permanency here.”
“The place is psychotic.”