Free Stiletto by Daniel O'Malley Page B

celebratory drink. She firmly instructed that part of her brain to shut up, lifted a glass of orange juice from the tray of a passing waiter, and took a defiant swig. Seriously, you have got to calm down, she told herself.
    “Miss Leliefeld?” It was the older woman who had brought the phone to Thomas. “I’m Ingrid Woodhouse, Rook Thomas’s executive assistant.”
    “Hiya!” said Odette, still caught up in her determination to relax.
    “Yes, hello,” said the lady, mildly taken aback by her enthusiasm. “Um, the Rook advised me that you’d be coming to the site.”
    “Yes, apparently that’s what I’m doing,” said Odette.
    “Marvelous. Come with me, please.”
    As they approached the lift, the doors opened to reveal Rook Thomas and Graaf van Suchtlen. Also inside was Odette’s cousin Marie Lemaier, who was the head of security for the Grafter delegation, and a tall black man who Odette assumed was the Checquy chief of security. The two leaders were looking distinctly uncomfortable as their underlings engaged in some highly courteous but highly vigorous bickering.
    “Pawn Clovis, what guarantees can you provide regarding the safety of Graaf van Suchtlen and Odette at this site?” Marie asked as Odette and Ingrid got on the lift. Her hair was auburn, shot through with streaks of black — a sure sign that she was getting irritated.
    “None at all,” replied Pawn Clovis calmly. “Of course, there will be a full team of Checquy investigators, all of whom have combat training and many of whom possess special abilities. There will be a small internal security team present, and local police are providing external security. Plus, Rook Thomas and, I gather, Graaf van Suchtlen both possess significant abilities of their own. But there are still no guarantees. Something killed those sixteen people, Miss Lemaier, something mysterious. A manifestation site is not a safe place. But then, this is not a safe business that you are entering into.”
    “We shall be fine, Marie,” said Graaf van Suchtlen as the lift doors closed. Marie gave him a cool look, and, for the first time Odette could remember, he seemed a bit nervous. Although she was only twenty-nine, Marie had a strength of will that the entire Broederschap respected and even feared. It was that strength of will, combined with her fierce devotion to her job, her talent for multitasking, and her ability to kick a man’s head clean off his neck, that had led to her assignment with the delegation.
    “If something happens to you, Graaf van Suchtlen, do you realize what sorts of questions I will be asked by my superior?” Marie inquired.
    “ I am your superior,” the graaf pointed out.
    “You’re not the chief of security,” said Marie dismissively.
    “I’m his superior too,” said the graaf, a trifle plaintively. Marie made a noise that suggested that, even if true, the fact had no bearing on the argument. The lift was silent for a moment. Odette was profoundly relieved when the doors opened on the lobby. They all stepped out, and van Suchtlen turned to Marie.
    Before he could speak, she said loudly, “Fine. Go, then. Strive not to get killed. You’ve no idea how much it would inconvenience me!” She patted Odette absently on the shoulder — apparently Odette’s death would not be an inconvenience worth mentioning — and moved back into the lift. Pawn Clovis joined her, looking slightly intimidated. The door shut on them.

6
    It dawned on the group that all the occupants of the lobby — receptionists, civilian guests, bellmen, concierge — were staring at them. The four of them proceeded through, ignoring the wary looks of absolutely everyone.
    “Ah, good, the car’s already here,” said Mrs. Woodhouse briskly.
    They all regarded the car thoughtfully. It was not what any of them had expected. Not only was it minuscule, with only two doors, but it appeared to be quite unwell. The black paint was badly scuffed, and one of the doors was white