Free Dark Dreams by Michael Genelin Page A

it.
    Jana tried to forget, to think only of the evening ahead, seeing Peter of the dark, dark eyes and the contrasting pale skin waiting for her outside the opera just a short two hours from now. Peter, the only man she had been this attracted to since her husband’s death.
    Jana had met Peter by chance when she had been asked to address a small committee of legislators at the parliament building. The minister of the interior had told Trokan he wanted her to speak in favor of a bill to prevent human trafficking that the government had ordered its members of parliament to pass. Some of them had misgivings because the penalties attached to the bill went beyond the limits imposed by EU treaty and UN conventions. She was to convince the swing votes that dealers in human flesh would keep their trade out of Slovakia, or at least limit it, when they became aware of how much more severely Slovakia would punish them than the surrounding, less-punitive states. Also, it was a good bill to pass just before an election, and played well in the more conservative parts of the country.
    Unfortunately, the day she met Peter was also the day she saw Kamin again.
    Jana had been sent over to parliament at the last moment. She met Sila Covic, known to all as the Red Devil, at the front entrance to the great lobby of the parliament building. The woman handled public relations and logistics for parliament. Covic was very short and dressed in conservative clothing, and would have seemed undistinguished had it not been for her deep, raspy, penetrating voice that forced everybody in the immediate vicinity to look at her.
    Sila had gotten her nickname because she had once been a communist activist, and still often mouthed communist dogma even though she was now an avowed democrat. There was another reason as well: when she got angry, her face was suffused with a startlingly red flush. And Sila Covic got angry very often. So everyone tried to steer clear of her, except when business forced them to deal with her.
    The Red Devil did not bother with amenities when she met Jana, hustling her toward the staircase leading to the parliament’s meeting rooms.
    “I wish you had come earlier,” Sila rasped, her irritation apparent. “You could have had individual meetings. Now, you will face the four members who control the committee. One is with the SDL party, so he’s probably lost anyway, no matter what you say. The other three are vacillating; they’re the ones you have to focus on. They sent over a man from the attorney general’s office, their chief trial lawyer. He can talk about legality if they raise any questions.”
    “Did this prosecutor write the bill?”
    “He had input. You have a brief moment to discuss it with him. Brief!” she warned, her voice becoming even more penetrating. “They’ve made changes.”
    “I haven’t seen them.”
    “He’ll inform you. That’s his area anyway.”
    They walked through the halls toward the meeting room, turned a corner, and Jana almost immediately bumped into Peter Saris, who was sipping a mug of coffee. The collision slopped coffee on both of them. Each immediately offered apologies; each tried to wipe the coffee droplets off the other and became embarrassed upon realizing they were touching a person they hadn’t even met, a person who was terribly attractive.
    “This is Procurator Peter Saris of the attorney general’s office.” The Red Devil indicated Peter. “And this is Commander Jana Matinova.” Sila surveyed the two of them, goggling at each other. She snickered, and then, after a second of silence, said, “I think the spilled-coffee routine worked.” Her voice took on an acerbic edge. “You can repair to the nearest hotel room later. Talk about the statute now.” She laughed, her voice like the braying of a mule. “In here.” She pointed to the meeting room. “Two minutes.” She entered the room, leaving them standing in the hallway.
    As soon as the Red Devil left them, Jana