The Magnificent Seven: Chessboard
Nov. 28th, 2008 08:36 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAt the Hellfire Club fundraiser, Manuel and Adrienne run interference while Emma and Nathan intercept the information from Taygetos. That they have to deal with the Black Knight to do it turns out to be a high point of the evening. But the situation is complicated further when the supposedly 'uninvolved' third-party courier turns out to be more than what he seems.
Under any other circumstances, he might have taken some time to appreciate his surroundings. It had turned out that Shaw was holding his fundraiser out of town - probably for logistical reasons, Nathan assumed. The city might be open for business again, but that didn't mean things were back to normal. In any case, the renovated Catskills mansion in which the party was being held was really quite lovely, seamlessly combining historical features and modern amenities in the way that had always particularly appealed to Nathan's tastes.
But tonight, unfortunately, the lovely old house was stuffed with people. People who were members of the Hellfire Club, and while Nathan knew perfectly well that the vast majority of those attending had no knowledge of the Inner Circle's more... dubious pursuits, it still made him twitchy to be here. He felt like a particularly conspicuous fish out of water, even on the arm of the White Queen. Especially on the arm of the White Queen.
"All things considered," Nathan murmured under his breath, the smile on his face slightly fixed as his eyes scanned the party, "I'd rather be taking mortar fire." He had never been comfortable at formal occasions, despite Moira's sporadic attempts over the last few years to teach him that they didn't always have to be ordeals. "No offense intended," he said to Emma. "It's not the company. Well, not your company."
"Half the people in the room have attempted to kill me, Nathan," replied Emma calmly. "And I've returned the favour in every case. It will take more than your discomfort to offend me. Just remember, if you do attempt to kill someone while at the party, do it discreetly. Actual bloodshed is generally frowned upon. And I don't particularly want the cleaning costs coming out of my budget."
"I think I can restrain myself," Nathan said, ignoring the unmistakable sensation of being watched. It wasn't just people watching Emma, and watching him because he happened to be her escort; he knew what attention directed specifically at him felt like. I suppose, given what happened the last time I showed up at one of Shaw's functions, this was only to be expected. At least he hadn't been turned away at the door. They were about to see how far the tolerance held, though, because he knew perfectly well where Emma was steering them. "Although I think that I may make the pleasantries as brief as possible with our host. I'll leave you to it and go find a corner where I can keep an eye out for this courier."
"Excellent," murmured Emma. "I have Court business to discuss with Mr Shaw that does not require an audience." Emma needed to determine how much Sebastian knew about her attempts to defeat Ignatova using Club minions and she did not want the details of her sacrificial gambits made available to Nathan. The gentle pressure of her fingers on Nathan's forearm brought them to a halt in front of the impressively dressed Black King. "Sebastian," said Emma, her voice taking on the usual bored detachment that Shaw brought out in her. "I'm sure you remember Nathan?"
"Mister Dayspring, yes, of course." Shaw's tone was pleasant, and his perfunctory host's smile covered up any open animosity towards Nathan. "Always an interesting experience, dealing with our counterparts in the third sector. Philanthropy is such a noble endeavor, after all. What was it? Elpis, ah yes. Hope springs eternal."
Sebastian gave a shark-toothed smile to Nathan and inclined his head slightly. "I trust you're enjoying yourself, Mister Dayspring?"
"Oh, quite," Nathan said, his smile bland. Joel would have been proud of him. "It's been a while since my last visit. Strange, how the little details stick out - so interesting to see how fashions in jewelry have changed in the last few years." Petty of him. Very, very petty. He turned to Emma, the smile turning downright deferential. "I think I'll go get us drinks," he said, then nodded to Shaw and departed without another word. Just because he thought he could restrain himself didn't necessarily mean he trusted himself if he had to be in the bastard's company for very long. Keep your eye on the ball here, Nathan...
Emma paid little attention to the rapidly receding figure of Nathan. She presumed he would behave himself at least for long enough to determine what she needed to know. "How is Shaw Industries faring after that little contretemps in Manhattan?" Emma asked the Black King.
"The timing was... unfortunate," Shaw admitted, taking a measured sip of his drink as he looked out over the crowd. "Our operating administration has relocated to Philadelphia for the interim, a move that would be much smoother if Harry was able to oversee things." A touch of sincere regret and concern colored the Black King's words, but was quickly replaced by the mask of untouchable hubris and cultured arrogance.
"The Manhattan Club suffered quite a disproportionate blow, however," he continued calmly. "Employees that should have evacuated during the incident refused to, and a great many lost their lives. A singular tragedy, wouldn't you say?"
"The young, the beautiful and the recklessly rich," said Emma, smiling slightly. "Which makes any loss to our membership a tragedy. But then, a great many lives were lost in Manhattan."
"Rather heroically, in fact," Shaw added with a touch of curiosity to his voice. "I knew most of ours that died. Not personally, of course. But at least by name and reputation. None of them would I have measured to be the self-sacrificing type."
Emma's smile was polite, but the riding crop she carried twitched forward, until it rested lightly on muscle on the inside of Shaw's lower thigh. Threat or caress, it was difficult to tell. "Perhaps they were following the examples of their superiors, Sebastian. The mere thought of inspiring such heroism makes me go all warm and gooey inside."
--
Gulping down the very fine vintage was not appropriate behavior, Nathan told himself. Especially as he was working. He forced himself to take a measured sip, instead, and let his gaze - and his mind - wander out over the room. After a moment, he thinned out his shields so that he could absorb the telepathic ambience like a sponge. They had no idea what this courier looked like, so picking up on stray thoughts was about their only chance of identifying him (or her, Nathan reminded himself) before the information was passed off to Shaw and things became infinitely more complicated.
Nathan took another sip of his wine, and half-wished he'd called Moira to tell her what he was doing tonight. But he hadn't wanted to explain, or worry her; she knew all too well how he felt about the Taygetos program, and the lengths to which he was willing to go to find and put a stop to it. In this case, for him, it was personal, and it couldn't be anything but. Hell, he'd half-expected Scott or Ororo to point out that he maybe wasn't the best person to be walking into Shaw's den tonight. Maybe they trust you. Neither of them was the type to hold back if they didn't like a plan.
He'd just have to make sure he didn't do anything to break that trust. Slipping almost into a half-trance, Nathan drifted through the telepathic atmosphere. Watching. Waiting.
And eventually, he found what he was looking for. A flash from one of the large men in carefully-tailored suits who lingered around the edges of the crowd watchfully; this one had a hand to his ear, listening to something. An earpiece? Nathan focused on him, followed his thoughts to the other side of the conversation. Someone had arrived. Someone they had been waiting for, someone who was expected, but not a guest.
There. Nathan watched the slender, dark-haired man as he was directed through the crowd. Not to Shaw, though. Of course, he's not going to be that obvious... Nathan took a deep breath, his eyes tracking the newcomer.
#Emma. I think I've got him.#
--
Emma wasn't visible through the crowd, although Nathan, taller than most of the rest of the guests, was. He looked across the room, locking eyes with Adrienne for a moment before raising his wine glass in a half-salute. #Anytime you're ready,# his voice murmured in her mind, and he gave her a slight smile that could have been either encouraging or mocking as he turned away.
Smoothing the fabric of her midnight blue dress and patting her extravagantly-coiffed hair to make sure not a strand was out of place, Adrienne saluted Nathan in return, smirking. It was a little offputting to hear him speaking inside her head, but she brushed the discomfort away with a swallow of champagne and strode smoothly away from her companion. Manuel made her uneasy, and the only time she sought to hide that fact was when they were in the crowd; and even then only barely.
She scanned the crowd, picking out a familiar face she hoped would be perfect for what they needed. The real estate mogul was a well-known public figure, powerful, and lecherous. And, he was an old acquaintance of her late husband's who just happened to be of some interest to the FBI in her work with them in digging up information on the mafia. So maybe she could get some information out of him to give to the FBI, too.
Noticing that he was drinking brandy, Adrienne ordered one from the bar and headed back over to Manuel with it. "See the double breasted Armani suit with the red hankerchief in the pocket and the geased-back dark hair with the bald spot?" she asked casually. "We go way back. Think he'll work?"
Dark eyes shifted from his current conversation, breaking it with a wave of dismissal as he turned to Adrienne, his eyes veiling over any emotions within. He nodded in agreement and gestured for her to go first. He would follow, engage the man and draw them in.
"What a conversationalist," Adrienne muttered, rolling her eyes as she snagged a champagne flute from a passing waiter for herself and sauntered over to her mark. "Mister Merlino," she simpered loudly, drawing out the first syllable, "fancy meeting you here. It's been a long time. You're looking well." With her most winning smile she held out the brandy tumbler.
Merlino's eyes narrowed very slightly, but after a bare hesitation, he took the tumbler. "Adrienne," he said. "I'm surprised to see you. It's been quite a while."
"Surprised to see me?" she said with a teasing smile. "At a high-powered club like this? Aww, I think I may be insulted, Merlino." She took a sip of her champagne, staggering slightly as if already inebriated, and sidled closer to him. "I'm sorry we've lost touch, Merlino. You simply must tell me what you've been up to. I've heard you came out marvellously well from the recent economic troubles that have been going on in the country. I'm so envious, and intrigued," she gushed, draping herself on his arm in a way that allowed him an easy view to her cleavage.
Merlino's eyes went precisely where she'd intended. The chilly little smile he gave her had a touch of semi-contemptuous appreciation. "Obviously things must be going fairly well for you too, Adrienne. You seem a little more... comfortable." His last word all but dripped with innuendo.
Conveniently, Manuel was standing directly behind them, unable to resist the urge to have a brush with the insulter. Turning around, Manuel's eyes bore into the man directly across from him and he stepped into their circle, placing a hand down on the small of her back. Oh yes, he was careful to keep his distance, lest she bite his arm off. She was a Frost, after all. "I beg your pardon, did you just insinuate an insult to my beloved?" Manuel asked in a very firm, accusing tone.
Merlino's eyes narrowed again. "Of course not," he said, not quite brusquely.
Manuel smiled, turning his head slightly and pointed with his glass. "You have not been practicing proper etiquette." His drink was polished off and set aside, his hand leaving Adrienne's back. Cane or not, he was quite in the mood to start something. "I repeat again, sir. Are you insulting this young lady because I, nor anyone else of this court, will not tolerate ignorant behaviour of this kind." Being heroic didn't quite fit him, he thought to himself as he got into the other man's personal space.
Biting back her smile, Adrienne took a step back as Manuel took a step forward into Merlino's face. She did her best to look shocked. "Come now, boys, let's not start something on my account," she murmured in a concerned voice, reaching out to touch the wrists of both men. Before she'd reached for Merlino, however, she'd opened a wet nap inside her purse and brushed her fingertips over it to wipe off the coating she was wearing, so that when she touched Merlino's watch she took a reading of it, hoping to give Fred Duncan some information about the man's mafia connections.
"Your 'beloved' basically threw her tits in my face," Merlino hissed at Manuel, losing a little of his polish and letting some of the Philadelphia mafia upbringing seep into his demeanor. "You look like a queer little shit who would rather stare at a homo sucking cock than a ripe pair of tits but when they get thrown in my face, what the fuck did you think I was going to do?" He'd been chummy with her husband, sure, but he wasn't that fond of the woman, and this guy was a lot smaller than him. He wrenched his arm away from Adrienne's hold, causing her to stumble as she was ripped out of the reading. "You should learn to keep a leash on your bitch. Get out of my face and go back to the party."
Manuel's hand hooked on Merlino's bicep like a vice, his gaze held tightly in a fix. "You would do well to mind your tongue in her presence as well as mine," Manuel warned. "There is no place for filth amongst the privileged. Judging from your worn attire and poor attitude, you have no place here. Perhaps you could do us a favour and crawl back in the box from whence you came."
By now, they had attracted a great deal of attention - some furtive, some not. None of them were being particularly loud, but the quiet viciousness was drawing eyes. Many sets of eyes. There was a battle of wills happening here, and Merlino was quite obviously losing, had been losing even since he'd broken the polite facade.
Impressed by the job Manuel was doing, it took Adrienne some time before she could school her features into looking shocked. "Honey, please. You don't have to stand up for me," she simpered, giving Merlino a glower. "He's rather petty, but he's a fellow businessman."
Merlino's expression was changing as he stared at Manuel, however; the light of realization, awareness of who he was talking to, finally began to dawn, and he turned a rather sickly shade of pale. The attention he was getting from the crowd began to register, as well, and the glare he shot Manuel and Adrienne then was no less angry, but rather more guarded than it had been. "Maybe you ought to keep her closer, if you're that concerned with her honor," he hissed under his breath. "Although I didn't fancy that a de la Rocha would take on used goods. Standards dipping a little, there?"
Gripping his cane, Manuel held out his hand for Adrienne to take and urged her forward. "Apologize to her."
"Used goods?!" Adrienne cried out before she could rein herself in. She stepped forward, hands balled into fists, wondering which new attack technique Jennie had shown her was worth trying out on him. Only after she'd stepped forward did she realize that Manuel was holding out his hand to her. Thinking of Nathan's meditation and shielding techniques, she forced herself to calm down and took Manuel's hand as a show of solidarity. "We don't want any trouble here, Merlino, but I would certainly hope you're man enough to apologize for that uncalled-for remark."
Merlino's eyes flickered to Manuel, then back to Adrienne, narrowing.
"Yes, it would be most unfortunate if your position was to be given to someone else." Manuel knew that feeling all too well, yet Manuel said nothing of it. He assumed his position as the White Bishop as though he were meant for it. Despite his personal loathing of being demoted.
"Well, then. My most profound apologies, Ms. Frost," Merlino said with a tight little smile. "I hadn't realized you had such an eminent personage... sheltering you." Despite the formality of the words, the tone was definitely mocking. Before either Manuel or Adrienne could reply, he sketched a nod and melted back into the crowd. As retreats went, it wasn't overtly hasty, but a retreat it most definitely was.
"Nicely done," Adrienne said to Manuel when Merlino had run away. She scanned the crowd, and when she didn't find Nathan in the crowd, she gave him a satisfied smile. "Now, if you don't mind, can we go circulate a bit? Some of us haven't gotten a position that can be given away yet, and you need to show me off to the people I need to impress."
He thought to comment on the position he really didn't have, but pretended to have because as far as Manuel was concerned, White Bishop was not a position for him. He offered his arm in silence and together they walked through the crowds, pausing only long enough to mingle but not make a huge impression.
--
Adrienne and Manuel's diversion was only intended to draw the eyes of the party in general, and it had done so admirably. With the bulk of the crowd's attention directed elsewhere, it was far easier for the two telepaths to identify those specifically watching them, and to direct their attention elsewhere. Nathan had to admire Emma's technique; it was subtler than his. He ought to be taking notes.
Following the courier was less easy than diverting Shaw's watchers, however. It took longer than it should have to track him through the surprisingly extensive back halls of the mansion; his psi-pattern was impossible to focus upon. Slippery, Nathan thought, frowning. It was only persistence -and possibly chance - that allowed them to finally catch up with the man, just in time to spot him walk into a room awash with the sort of psychic static that suggested anti-psi technology was at work inside.
"Malachi Hark," the unfamiliar voice of the courier said, almost brusquely. The door to the room was open, allowing Emma and Nathan to listen in from the end of the hall. "I have the information requested."
"And a damn bit of expensive information it's supposed to be, isn't it?" the gruff voice was, not surprisingly, easily identifiable as John Lense, the current Black Knight of the Hellfire Club. "Well, my boss is footing the bill, so I suppose yours could have at least come to deliver it in person."
"I don't think you understand, Mr. Lense." Hark's tone didn't alter in the slightest. "I'm not involved in this; I'm a courier. I'm delivering the information because no telepath is going to be able to get into my head and find out anything about the people who engaged my services. I don't need whatever you've got turned on in this room." A touch of contempt in this voice, on the last comment.
Nathan tilted his head at Emma, raising an eyebrow, and reached out thoughtfully towards the courier's mind. There were comprehensible thoughts there, but they were all on the surface, like the flash that had tipped him off initially. Some sort of psi mutation? He didn't push, not wanting to tip off the man to the fact that someone was out here listening.
Emma felt the brush of Nathan's telepathic probe reach outwards but did not send hers after it, already sure the courier was immune to her powers. She concentrated instead on seeking out the extent of the anti-psi technology that buzzed through the room, patiently attempting to determine its source by the nature of the pattern that it cycled through, letting Nathan concentrate on the eavesdropping.
"Fair enough," Lense said in a calm voice, the sound of footsteps indicating that he was crossing the parquet-floored room. "Better safe than sorry though, right? Funny, isn't it? Neither one of us probably have any real clue what you have there, Hark. Ours is not to reason why, that's what they taught me. Good rule, wouldn't you agree?"
"We all have our rules, Mr. Lense. Good evening." Footsteps coming back towards the door, and Hark stepped out into the hall, straightening his tie with perhaps slightly more violence than the motion required before he strode briskly down the hall in the opposite direction.
Nathan watched him go, frowning slightly. But if he was telling the truth and he was just a courier, then he'd just handed off the information, and so he was immaterial. His eyes flickered back to Emma for a moment, and an odd, tight little smile tugged at his lips.
#I promise I will not assault the Black Knight,# he said. #But if you have a more subtle approach in mind as to how we can get that information away from him and leave him wishing he hadn't gotten out of bed this morning, I'm all ears.#
---
"Hello, John," Nathan said as he came through the doorway, sizing up the room in one quick glance - sitting room of some sort, Lense in a clearly expensive chair with a laptop on the equally expensive side table. "Tell me, do you ever feel like a bull in a china shop in settings like this?" Nathan went on casually, before Lense could respond. "Definitely not what we're used to." The nails-on-chalkboard feel of whatever anti-psi technology was on in this room made it hard to manage the breezy tone, but he pulled it off. Mostly out of spite.
Remarkably, Lense managed to keep his composure, though even the psi-bafflers couldn't suppress the immediate feeling of shock he emanated when Nathan walked into the room. "Brute force was always more Morgan's specialty, remember?" he snarled. "Yours too. Difference being, Tim knows how to stay dead. I buried you under that ice, Dayspring, but you still keep coming back like a bad penny."
The room around the gravity manipulator seemed to pulse as he stood up, ripples of his power subtly surrounding him. "I don't care if it's in a china shop or all the way to China - I will kill you, Dayspring--" The ripples subsided, and Lense raised a hand to his collar, casually adjusting his tie. "--but maybe not today. What do you want?"
"You never could follow through with your kills," Nathan said, still smiling as he went over to examine a vaguely familiar-looking painting on the wall. "'Erratic', that was the word they used to use to describe you in debriefings. That was why you always had to have someone a little steadier holding your hand." He looked back at Lense. "Rank hath its privileges, which was why they never stuck me with that particular chore. Poor Tim was always having to jerk back on your leash, though, wasn't he? Clean up your messes, explain away your sloppiness... what amazes me is that Shaw puts up with you."
"I'm not the kid I was back in Mistra, Dayspring," Lense answered, walking around to pour himself a drink from the unattended bar in the parlor, almost taunting Nathan by turning his back to the older man. He tossed back a small tumbler of scotch, hissing between his teeth and rolling his shoulders. "Man of privilege these days, even. Working for Mr. Shaw has a number of perks. Not the least of which is information."
He tapped the side of his head with a finger and smiled at Nathan. "You see, I know things you don't, Dayspring. It's not just about power anymore, it's about information. I never used to look past the obvious, I--" he stopped and pointed a finger at his former comrade. "Sloppy, that's exactly right. But now? Now I've grown up. Tell me, do you ever think Aliya got sloppy? That's how they brought her down, you know."
"I'm sorry, was that supposed to make me lose my temper and attack you? Manipulation 101, John - try a little harder next time." Nathan turned away from the painting, still wearing the tight smile. "Besides, I promised a certain lady I wouldn't be so gauche as to smack you around. Back to business, yes? I think you probably know exactly what I want," Nathan went on, inclining his head at the laptop. There was a gleaming USB drive sticking out of one of the ports. "In deference to our oh-so-formal setting, I'll simply say I'm disinclined to let you play out some sort of wish-fulfillment scenario. Mistra's dead," he said more flatly, "and one of these days, Taygetos will be, too."
"Well, Nathan," Lense hissed back, stepping forward, hands clenched into fists and the ripples of his power emanating outwards, subtly bending the light around him and coaxing small creaking and popping noises from the floorboards and walls. "You can't always get what you want."
"Nathan can't," said Emma as she walked in to the room, "but I certainly can." She was the White Queen now, all feline grace and killing power held in the tight leash of regal control. Lense's surprise at her entrance stilled his use of his powers for just a moment and Emma took the opportunity to cross the room until she stood almost within his reach. "Sebastian is quite the foolish man sometimes," she purred. "I'm sure he told you that you were safe from people like us in this little mechanical box that keeps us out of your head. All I can say is that I really must have been neglecting my duties to the Court if he thinks a psi-shield will stop me. Perhaps you can let him know that no matter how off-market he goes to get his anti-psi technology, I'll always have been there first and I'll always have something to over-ride it."
Before Lense could react or focus his powers, Emma twisted something that she held in her hands and the psychic static that roiled through the room cut off abruptly. Before the last pulse of it had even faded away, Lense was on his knees, clutching his head as Emma tweaked his pain receptors to maximum. Neatly she stepped around him and retrieved the USB drive, handing it to Nathan before stepping back to face Lense.
Her fingers clutched his chin, fingernails digging deep into his cheeks. "White Queen takes Black Knight," she said. "Check and mate." Her lips found his, a bruising kiss as she slipped her mind into his, turned off the pain, a judicious tweak of his powers shutting them down for long enough that she and Nathan would have no problems leaving the room. Her lips left Lense and her grip changed from crushing to a caress as she looked into Lense's eyes. "Make sure you tell Sebastian; the White Queen is back. Game is on."
She turned back to Nathan, expression mild. "Shall we go?" she said, holding out her arm.
Nathan tucked the flash drive into the inside pocket of his jacket as they headed back out of the room. It was taking a significant degree of effort to repress the smile at what had just happened, and only a few mental repetitions of the fact that they still had to get out of here without any further confrontations was allowing him to manage it.
"I could maybe learn to love offensive telepathy, with such sterling examples of how it can be useful," he said as he and Emma moved back in the direction of the party. "Should I ask about how precisely you managed that, though? The only time I ever managed to blow out psi-bafflers, I had to do it literally. And I don't think they were working properly in the first place."
"Nathan, my dear, I'm a girl genius who owns a multinational electronics firm with an R&D department that is Benjamin Franklin's wet dream and I have a particular interest in making sure that my own style is not cramped. There's only a certain number of technologies that can counteract psionics and I've got something for all of them. Believe me when I say there's nothing Shaw can find that I can't stop." Her smile was that of a cat that had swallowed the cream as she added in Nathan's mind. #To be perfectly honest, it's because Shaw is particularly unimaginative in his purchasing procedures.#
#No issues whatsoever with that philosophy. I think it's a great philosophy. And I really rather enjoyed the look on this face.# Nathan looked sideways at her. Emma had handled John very effectively, but that didn't mean that he was an entirely known quantity to her. And Nathan felt the need suddenly to balance the scales a little more equitably between them, after what she'd just helped him do.
"John... he's not a subtle man," he said aloud, "and that's me saying it, so you know his lack of subtlety is... excessive. I can't think Shaw's trained that out of him this quickly, not when twenty years at Mistra didn't. He's cocky, and he enjoys hurting people - and deep down, he's a sheep. He misses Mistra. Misses not having to make decisions for himself." His mouth twisted slightly. "I dimly remember him ranting at me about that just before he half-killed me this summer."
"Shaw does demonstrate a certain lack of imagination in his appointments. Selene was always the one with the flair for Human Resources," responded Emma, equably. "An unsubtle, sadistic sheep is probably about par for Sebastian's new course. Fortunately for Mr Lense, if he wants to play in the Inner Court he has to play by a set of arcane and complex rules, which may suit him. Unfortunately for Mr Lense it also means that, if he wishes to hurt me, he'll have to develop subtlety. Direct attacks are so gauche." Emma's lips curled in a slight smile. #I do indeed have counter-technology for most anti-psi electronics but some of the things are the size of a small room. Fortunately, Sebastian runs all of his purchases through his accounting department and I just happen to have someone in that department who provides me with copies of all purchases made from certain companies or involving certain technology. Which means I only have to bring along what I might need. Once I identified what tech he installed here, counter-acting it was fairly simple. Naturally I'd prefer if he didn't know about my dear accountant friend. Or the fact that some anti-psi technology is very, very difficult to counteract. It may give him ideas.# Her fingers caressed the sleeve of his jacket. "Shall we go and check on what mayhem Adrienne and Manuel have caused in our absence?"
--
The courier's reappearance would have been almost unnoticeable, if one hadn't been watching for said reappearance quite specifically. Malachi Hark straightened his tie, his gaze raking the assembled members of the Hellfire Club, and while his expression was perfectly neutral, there was, if only momentarily, a certain smouldering something in his pale eyes that suggested different emotions entirely.
Adrienne's gaze drifted from her conversation with a Brooks Brothers-clad sports team owner as she spotted the man she recognized from Nathan's mental flash reentering the main room. She kept her peripheral gaze on the direction from where he'd come, expecting to see Nathan and Emma reemerge as well. When several moments passed without their appearance, however, she looked around more deliberately. Emma would probably be hard to spot, but Nathan should have stuck out like a sore thumb. Except she didn't see him. Adrienne sent a confused look Manuel's way, following it up with a silent expression that read rather clearly 'should we follow him?'
Manuel was finishing his second drink as he turned his gaze to Adrienne. He shook his head, setting his drink aside to a passing waiter and tugged on the cuffs of his sleeves, trying to attain a little more comfort in his suit. It was tailored to him, perfected in a dark shade of black, ending with two cuff links that matched his ebony shafted cane. Rubbing his chin, Manuel considered his position. He could feel the displacement from the man, specifically from Hark and he glanced at Adrienne again, knowing Emma and Nathan were not within the room without having to look around. He subtly brushed the side of his chin, gesturing for her to start and he would surely follow.
Hark was moving slowly enough through the party, on a meandering course that would take him to the door without being overt about it. There was plenty of time to intercept him. Matching the slow pace, Adrienne ambled towards the courier, exchanging quick pleasantries with several influential people on her way towards the man, sipping champagne and smiling radiantly. She was definitely enjoying herself, and made a mental reminder to thank Emma for the invitation. Casually she placed herself between the man and the door, looking him over with a calculating eye as to what would be the quickest and least painful thing on his person to key into in order to find out whether Emma and Nathan had intercepted him and see if she could find out where they were now. Not that she was worried or anything.
"Hi!" she called out sweetly, sidling up to him with the smile and gait of a woman who was taking full advantage of the alcohol at the party. "I really like your suit. Brooks Brothers, fall 2006 line, right?" she asked, intending to stroke the arm of his suitjacket with the hand she'd she'd never bothered to re-coat after reading Merlino's watch earlier. The jacket would surely give her what she needed to know about what had happened earlier that evening with Emma and Nathan.
When she reached out to touch the suit, however, the courier raised his arm as if to ward her off, and she ended up brushing her fingers against his watch instead, keying in to a scene which looked very much like a graduation ceremony. A much younger courier was given a present- the watch- by a woman with obvious fashion sense, style, and an amazing bone structure. The modeling executive was struck by the woman's features, but besides that there was nothing at all interesting about watching a graduate receive a present. She moved forward on the timeline, stopping when she recognized the familiar surroundings of the mansion they were currently in. The courier slipped from the main room to a back hallway, which she guessed was the point at which Nathan and Emma had decided to follow him and she and Manuel had created the diversion. He entered a room occupied by a rather attractive man with too much facial hair. The courier gave his companion his name- Hark- and Adrienne saw their transaction being completed. At that point Hark returned to the party, where Adrienne saw herself intercepting him. Which meant he hadn't run into Emma and Nathan at all. Damn.
She pulled her hand back and cooed over the suit some more, while giving Manuel a quick glance over her shoulder that was accompanied by a barely perceptible head shake. The man was useless.
Hark gave her an oddly close look, his eyes narrowing. "I... really couldn't tell you," he said, then put on a slight, almost robotic smile. I am being social, look! Really!, the smile said. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening. Excuse me." He slipped past Adrienne, heading much more directly for this door this time.
Manuel caught Adrienne's glance and smoothed a hand over his suit, casually picking up another glass of champaign and taking a sip. He was feeling rather loose tonight and blamed it on the lack of alcohol he'd had over the past year. It was much like an overload tonight, so many emotions, so little control but his relaxed attitude helped him focus a little more on Hark. Anxiety slipped over him and his nerves crawled over his skin, slipping a chill beneath his clothes.
At Manuel's glance, Adrienne strolled over. "Anything useful? Other than the fact that his social skills leave much to be desired?"
"He is anxious." Manuel's emotions followed him as well as he could but with so many people, it eventually got flooded over, snapping him back into himself, finding he still could not hold his concentration long enough to get a proper read. Naturally, he wouldn't say that. "He may be hiding something - what, I do not know - however, we should consider whether or not we are going to stop him, or allow him to proceed with the rest of the night."
#Let him go,# Nathan's familiar voice said in both their minds, as he and Emma reappeared at the fringes of the crowd. The tight smile he gave them suggested restrained glee. #We've got what we came for.#
--
"Damn it." Nathan's muttered curse finally broke the silence in the limousine. The silence had descended as soon as they'd gotten in, and lasted for nearly five minutes as the driver took them away from the mansion at a sedate speed, as if they were merely departing for the night. He looked up at the other three, his expression grim in the light from the screen of his laptop; he'd plugged in the flash drive a couple of minutes ago, as soon as he was sure that there was no one pursuing them right away.
"So much for the instant revelation," he said, looking at Emma. "This is definitely encrypted. Not standard encryption, either, or the decryption program I've got on here wouldn't be giving me the software equivalent of mocking laughter."
Emma glanced at Manny from beneath her lashes before responding. "Luckily," she said, "we're currently awash with boy geniuses. I'll get Doug to have a look at it. In his current - enhanced - state, he should be able to retrieve the information you need."
"Yes," Manuel agreed, frowning at her glance before he dismissively looked out the window to the passing trees. "I'm sure you'll get whatever you need out of Doug." The bitter aftertaste of being manipulated into this position of White Bishop lingered in him and he suddenly felt like being very unhelpful.
Nathan looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "Did you see Hark on his way out?" he asked abruptly. Couldn't hurt to ask. "Get any sort of read off him?" It couldn't hurt to ask. There had been a couple of discordant notes in the courier's behavior.
"Yes," Manuel replied and continued to stare out, distinterested in the coversation, despite the fact that he was being addressed. "Yes," he said to the second question. "He was nervous, anxious if you will. It seemed he did not want to be there." The cane turned in his hands, distracting himself from his jealousy.
When Manuel didn't elaborate, Adrienne rolled her eyes at him. "Christ," she muttered, turning to Emma, "I'd like to request some more cheerful company next time, please," she suggested, hoping very much that there would be a next time. Turning to Nathan, she announced proudly: "I got dirt on a horse's ass with a mafia connection that I can take to Gar- to Fred Duncan-" she corrected herself quickly, wanting to break herself of the habit of calling Duncan 'Garrison's boss', "and then I met your courier and he gave me the quickest brush-off I've probably ever had, which I find very amusing. Too bad he was completely useless. I saw him give the flash drive to a man you obviously met after, since you have the flash drive now, and then he came right back to the party. Nervous guy. Very ugly suit. He had a nice watch, though," she mused. "A very pretty woman gave it to him for graduation." A sage nod accompanied her words, a testament to too much champagne that this seemed to be the most important thing she could think of to say.
Wonderful. Manuel was seething and Adrienne was tipsy. Nathan shook his head slightly, closing his laptop and removing the flash drive, which he handed over to Emma. "I don't suppose you'd let me see what you saw?" he asked Adrienne. "There was something off about him, and we couldn't read him because he's got some sort of funky minor psi-mutation." Hark was a loose end. He didn't like loose ends.
Adrienne recoiled with wide eyes at Nathan's request. "See what I saw in my brain? No! You can't see in my brain! I have private things in there. Besides, you're married. What do you need to be ogling pretty women for?" She kept a disapproving gaze on him for a beat before remembering that Nathan wasn't exactly the sort to go poking around through her private thoughts (probably because he was messed up enough already) nor would he be asking if he didn't feel what she'd seen could be useful. "Okay fine, you can look. But just that, got it?" She held up a finger to him in warning. "Nothing else. No peeking at anything else."
"I think I can restrain myself," Nathan said wryly. He reached out and brushed her mind lightly.
And recoiled, pressing back against the seat as if he really was trying to put distance between himself and Adrienne. His look was as purely stunned an expression as any of the people in the car had ever seen from him before.
"I am sure if he wanted to look through your head, it wouldn't take very long and he wouldn't do it when you're paying attention," Manuel commented drily. "You would possibly never know--" his voice faded away and he turned his calcuating eyes on Nathan and the look he got in return. Maybe he should have asked what was wrong, what startled in that look, but in a car with two Frosts, Manuel said nothing except to raise his cane and knock on the window behind him.
It rolled down and the driver inquired, "Ser?"
"Would you be so kind as to stop by a liquor store please?"
Adrienne gave the cane in Manuel's hands a smack, since it was as close as she wanted to get to smacking his actual person. "Wouldn't take very long?! Hey, I was nice to you and put up with your sulking all evening, you little sack of-" she stopped abruptly when Nathan moved away from her, giving him a confused look as his colour drained. "Shit. Did my brain break your brain, Dayspring?" When Manuel requested a visit to the liquor store, Adrienne leaned towards the window to add to his request. "We're going to need a lot of liquor." With something akin to a feeling of concern, she turned back to Nathan. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Nathan said quietly. Lying through his teeth, as his mind ran over and over that flash of imagery, that familiar face he'd seen at that age only once, on a beach in Tel Aviv almost fifteen years ago. "But the woman who gave Hark that watch was my mother."
Under any other circumstances, he might have taken some time to appreciate his surroundings. It had turned out that Shaw was holding his fundraiser out of town - probably for logistical reasons, Nathan assumed. The city might be open for business again, but that didn't mean things were back to normal. In any case, the renovated Catskills mansion in which the party was being held was really quite lovely, seamlessly combining historical features and modern amenities in the way that had always particularly appealed to Nathan's tastes.
But tonight, unfortunately, the lovely old house was stuffed with people. People who were members of the Hellfire Club, and while Nathan knew perfectly well that the vast majority of those attending had no knowledge of the Inner Circle's more... dubious pursuits, it still made him twitchy to be here. He felt like a particularly conspicuous fish out of water, even on the arm of the White Queen. Especially on the arm of the White Queen.
"All things considered," Nathan murmured under his breath, the smile on his face slightly fixed as his eyes scanned the party, "I'd rather be taking mortar fire." He had never been comfortable at formal occasions, despite Moira's sporadic attempts over the last few years to teach him that they didn't always have to be ordeals. "No offense intended," he said to Emma. "It's not the company. Well, not your company."
"Half the people in the room have attempted to kill me, Nathan," replied Emma calmly. "And I've returned the favour in every case. It will take more than your discomfort to offend me. Just remember, if you do attempt to kill someone while at the party, do it discreetly. Actual bloodshed is generally frowned upon. And I don't particularly want the cleaning costs coming out of my budget."
"I think I can restrain myself," Nathan said, ignoring the unmistakable sensation of being watched. It wasn't just people watching Emma, and watching him because he happened to be her escort; he knew what attention directed specifically at him felt like. I suppose, given what happened the last time I showed up at one of Shaw's functions, this was only to be expected. At least he hadn't been turned away at the door. They were about to see how far the tolerance held, though, because he knew perfectly well where Emma was steering them. "Although I think that I may make the pleasantries as brief as possible with our host. I'll leave you to it and go find a corner where I can keep an eye out for this courier."
"Excellent," murmured Emma. "I have Court business to discuss with Mr Shaw that does not require an audience." Emma needed to determine how much Sebastian knew about her attempts to defeat Ignatova using Club minions and she did not want the details of her sacrificial gambits made available to Nathan. The gentle pressure of her fingers on Nathan's forearm brought them to a halt in front of the impressively dressed Black King. "Sebastian," said Emma, her voice taking on the usual bored detachment that Shaw brought out in her. "I'm sure you remember Nathan?"
"Mister Dayspring, yes, of course." Shaw's tone was pleasant, and his perfunctory host's smile covered up any open animosity towards Nathan. "Always an interesting experience, dealing with our counterparts in the third sector. Philanthropy is such a noble endeavor, after all. What was it? Elpis, ah yes. Hope springs eternal."
Sebastian gave a shark-toothed smile to Nathan and inclined his head slightly. "I trust you're enjoying yourself, Mister Dayspring?"
"Oh, quite," Nathan said, his smile bland. Joel would have been proud of him. "It's been a while since my last visit. Strange, how the little details stick out - so interesting to see how fashions in jewelry have changed in the last few years." Petty of him. Very, very petty. He turned to Emma, the smile turning downright deferential. "I think I'll go get us drinks," he said, then nodded to Shaw and departed without another word. Just because he thought he could restrain himself didn't necessarily mean he trusted himself if he had to be in the bastard's company for very long. Keep your eye on the ball here, Nathan...
Emma paid little attention to the rapidly receding figure of Nathan. She presumed he would behave himself at least for long enough to determine what she needed to know. "How is Shaw Industries faring after that little contretemps in Manhattan?" Emma asked the Black King.
"The timing was... unfortunate," Shaw admitted, taking a measured sip of his drink as he looked out over the crowd. "Our operating administration has relocated to Philadelphia for the interim, a move that would be much smoother if Harry was able to oversee things." A touch of sincere regret and concern colored the Black King's words, but was quickly replaced by the mask of untouchable hubris and cultured arrogance.
"The Manhattan Club suffered quite a disproportionate blow, however," he continued calmly. "Employees that should have evacuated during the incident refused to, and a great many lost their lives. A singular tragedy, wouldn't you say?"
"The young, the beautiful and the recklessly rich," said Emma, smiling slightly. "Which makes any loss to our membership a tragedy. But then, a great many lives were lost in Manhattan."
"Rather heroically, in fact," Shaw added with a touch of curiosity to his voice. "I knew most of ours that died. Not personally, of course. But at least by name and reputation. None of them would I have measured to be the self-sacrificing type."
Emma's smile was polite, but the riding crop she carried twitched forward, until it rested lightly on muscle on the inside of Shaw's lower thigh. Threat or caress, it was difficult to tell. "Perhaps they were following the examples of their superiors, Sebastian. The mere thought of inspiring such heroism makes me go all warm and gooey inside."
--
Gulping down the very fine vintage was not appropriate behavior, Nathan told himself. Especially as he was working. He forced himself to take a measured sip, instead, and let his gaze - and his mind - wander out over the room. After a moment, he thinned out his shields so that he could absorb the telepathic ambience like a sponge. They had no idea what this courier looked like, so picking up on stray thoughts was about their only chance of identifying him (or her, Nathan reminded himself) before the information was passed off to Shaw and things became infinitely more complicated.
Nathan took another sip of his wine, and half-wished he'd called Moira to tell her what he was doing tonight. But he hadn't wanted to explain, or worry her; she knew all too well how he felt about the Taygetos program, and the lengths to which he was willing to go to find and put a stop to it. In this case, for him, it was personal, and it couldn't be anything but. Hell, he'd half-expected Scott or Ororo to point out that he maybe wasn't the best person to be walking into Shaw's den tonight. Maybe they trust you. Neither of them was the type to hold back if they didn't like a plan.
He'd just have to make sure he didn't do anything to break that trust. Slipping almost into a half-trance, Nathan drifted through the telepathic atmosphere. Watching. Waiting.
And eventually, he found what he was looking for. A flash from one of the large men in carefully-tailored suits who lingered around the edges of the crowd watchfully; this one had a hand to his ear, listening to something. An earpiece? Nathan focused on him, followed his thoughts to the other side of the conversation. Someone had arrived. Someone they had been waiting for, someone who was expected, but not a guest.
There. Nathan watched the slender, dark-haired man as he was directed through the crowd. Not to Shaw, though. Of course, he's not going to be that obvious... Nathan took a deep breath, his eyes tracking the newcomer.
#Emma. I think I've got him.#
--
Emma wasn't visible through the crowd, although Nathan, taller than most of the rest of the guests, was. He looked across the room, locking eyes with Adrienne for a moment before raising his wine glass in a half-salute. #Anytime you're ready,# his voice murmured in her mind, and he gave her a slight smile that could have been either encouraging or mocking as he turned away.
Smoothing the fabric of her midnight blue dress and patting her extravagantly-coiffed hair to make sure not a strand was out of place, Adrienne saluted Nathan in return, smirking. It was a little offputting to hear him speaking inside her head, but she brushed the discomfort away with a swallow of champagne and strode smoothly away from her companion. Manuel made her uneasy, and the only time she sought to hide that fact was when they were in the crowd; and even then only barely.
She scanned the crowd, picking out a familiar face she hoped would be perfect for what they needed. The real estate mogul was a well-known public figure, powerful, and lecherous. And, he was an old acquaintance of her late husband's who just happened to be of some interest to the FBI in her work with them in digging up information on the mafia. So maybe she could get some information out of him to give to the FBI, too.
Noticing that he was drinking brandy, Adrienne ordered one from the bar and headed back over to Manuel with it. "See the double breasted Armani suit with the red hankerchief in the pocket and the geased-back dark hair with the bald spot?" she asked casually. "We go way back. Think he'll work?"
Dark eyes shifted from his current conversation, breaking it with a wave of dismissal as he turned to Adrienne, his eyes veiling over any emotions within. He nodded in agreement and gestured for her to go first. He would follow, engage the man and draw them in.
"What a conversationalist," Adrienne muttered, rolling her eyes as she snagged a champagne flute from a passing waiter for herself and sauntered over to her mark. "Mister Merlino," she simpered loudly, drawing out the first syllable, "fancy meeting you here. It's been a long time. You're looking well." With her most winning smile she held out the brandy tumbler.
Merlino's eyes narrowed very slightly, but after a bare hesitation, he took the tumbler. "Adrienne," he said. "I'm surprised to see you. It's been quite a while."
"Surprised to see me?" she said with a teasing smile. "At a high-powered club like this? Aww, I think I may be insulted, Merlino." She took a sip of her champagne, staggering slightly as if already inebriated, and sidled closer to him. "I'm sorry we've lost touch, Merlino. You simply must tell me what you've been up to. I've heard you came out marvellously well from the recent economic troubles that have been going on in the country. I'm so envious, and intrigued," she gushed, draping herself on his arm in a way that allowed him an easy view to her cleavage.
Merlino's eyes went precisely where she'd intended. The chilly little smile he gave her had a touch of semi-contemptuous appreciation. "Obviously things must be going fairly well for you too, Adrienne. You seem a little more... comfortable." His last word all but dripped with innuendo.
Conveniently, Manuel was standing directly behind them, unable to resist the urge to have a brush with the insulter. Turning around, Manuel's eyes bore into the man directly across from him and he stepped into their circle, placing a hand down on the small of her back. Oh yes, he was careful to keep his distance, lest she bite his arm off. She was a Frost, after all. "I beg your pardon, did you just insinuate an insult to my beloved?" Manuel asked in a very firm, accusing tone.
Merlino's eyes narrowed again. "Of course not," he said, not quite brusquely.
Manuel smiled, turning his head slightly and pointed with his glass. "You have not been practicing proper etiquette." His drink was polished off and set aside, his hand leaving Adrienne's back. Cane or not, he was quite in the mood to start something. "I repeat again, sir. Are you insulting this young lady because I, nor anyone else of this court, will not tolerate ignorant behaviour of this kind." Being heroic didn't quite fit him, he thought to himself as he got into the other man's personal space.
Biting back her smile, Adrienne took a step back as Manuel took a step forward into Merlino's face. She did her best to look shocked. "Come now, boys, let's not start something on my account," she murmured in a concerned voice, reaching out to touch the wrists of both men. Before she'd reached for Merlino, however, she'd opened a wet nap inside her purse and brushed her fingertips over it to wipe off the coating she was wearing, so that when she touched Merlino's watch she took a reading of it, hoping to give Fred Duncan some information about the man's mafia connections.
"Your 'beloved' basically threw her tits in my face," Merlino hissed at Manuel, losing a little of his polish and letting some of the Philadelphia mafia upbringing seep into his demeanor. "You look like a queer little shit who would rather stare at a homo sucking cock than a ripe pair of tits but when they get thrown in my face, what the fuck did you think I was going to do?" He'd been chummy with her husband, sure, but he wasn't that fond of the woman, and this guy was a lot smaller than him. He wrenched his arm away from Adrienne's hold, causing her to stumble as she was ripped out of the reading. "You should learn to keep a leash on your bitch. Get out of my face and go back to the party."
Manuel's hand hooked on Merlino's bicep like a vice, his gaze held tightly in a fix. "You would do well to mind your tongue in her presence as well as mine," Manuel warned. "There is no place for filth amongst the privileged. Judging from your worn attire and poor attitude, you have no place here. Perhaps you could do us a favour and crawl back in the box from whence you came."
By now, they had attracted a great deal of attention - some furtive, some not. None of them were being particularly loud, but the quiet viciousness was drawing eyes. Many sets of eyes. There was a battle of wills happening here, and Merlino was quite obviously losing, had been losing even since he'd broken the polite facade.
Impressed by the job Manuel was doing, it took Adrienne some time before she could school her features into looking shocked. "Honey, please. You don't have to stand up for me," she simpered, giving Merlino a glower. "He's rather petty, but he's a fellow businessman."
Merlino's expression was changing as he stared at Manuel, however; the light of realization, awareness of who he was talking to, finally began to dawn, and he turned a rather sickly shade of pale. The attention he was getting from the crowd began to register, as well, and the glare he shot Manuel and Adrienne then was no less angry, but rather more guarded than it had been. "Maybe you ought to keep her closer, if you're that concerned with her honor," he hissed under his breath. "Although I didn't fancy that a de la Rocha would take on used goods. Standards dipping a little, there?"
Gripping his cane, Manuel held out his hand for Adrienne to take and urged her forward. "Apologize to her."
"Used goods?!" Adrienne cried out before she could rein herself in. She stepped forward, hands balled into fists, wondering which new attack technique Jennie had shown her was worth trying out on him. Only after she'd stepped forward did she realize that Manuel was holding out his hand to her. Thinking of Nathan's meditation and shielding techniques, she forced herself to calm down and took Manuel's hand as a show of solidarity. "We don't want any trouble here, Merlino, but I would certainly hope you're man enough to apologize for that uncalled-for remark."
Merlino's eyes flickered to Manuel, then back to Adrienne, narrowing.
"Yes, it would be most unfortunate if your position was to be given to someone else." Manuel knew that feeling all too well, yet Manuel said nothing of it. He assumed his position as the White Bishop as though he were meant for it. Despite his personal loathing of being demoted.
"Well, then. My most profound apologies, Ms. Frost," Merlino said with a tight little smile. "I hadn't realized you had such an eminent personage... sheltering you." Despite the formality of the words, the tone was definitely mocking. Before either Manuel or Adrienne could reply, he sketched a nod and melted back into the crowd. As retreats went, it wasn't overtly hasty, but a retreat it most definitely was.
"Nicely done," Adrienne said to Manuel when Merlino had run away. She scanned the crowd, and when she didn't find Nathan in the crowd, she gave him a satisfied smile. "Now, if you don't mind, can we go circulate a bit? Some of us haven't gotten a position that can be given away yet, and you need to show me off to the people I need to impress."
He thought to comment on the position he really didn't have, but pretended to have because as far as Manuel was concerned, White Bishop was not a position for him. He offered his arm in silence and together they walked through the crowds, pausing only long enough to mingle but not make a huge impression.
--
Adrienne and Manuel's diversion was only intended to draw the eyes of the party in general, and it had done so admirably. With the bulk of the crowd's attention directed elsewhere, it was far easier for the two telepaths to identify those specifically watching them, and to direct their attention elsewhere. Nathan had to admire Emma's technique; it was subtler than his. He ought to be taking notes.
Following the courier was less easy than diverting Shaw's watchers, however. It took longer than it should have to track him through the surprisingly extensive back halls of the mansion; his psi-pattern was impossible to focus upon. Slippery, Nathan thought, frowning. It was only persistence -and possibly chance - that allowed them to finally catch up with the man, just in time to spot him walk into a room awash with the sort of psychic static that suggested anti-psi technology was at work inside.
"Malachi Hark," the unfamiliar voice of the courier said, almost brusquely. The door to the room was open, allowing Emma and Nathan to listen in from the end of the hall. "I have the information requested."
"And a damn bit of expensive information it's supposed to be, isn't it?" the gruff voice was, not surprisingly, easily identifiable as John Lense, the current Black Knight of the Hellfire Club. "Well, my boss is footing the bill, so I suppose yours could have at least come to deliver it in person."
"I don't think you understand, Mr. Lense." Hark's tone didn't alter in the slightest. "I'm not involved in this; I'm a courier. I'm delivering the information because no telepath is going to be able to get into my head and find out anything about the people who engaged my services. I don't need whatever you've got turned on in this room." A touch of contempt in this voice, on the last comment.
Nathan tilted his head at Emma, raising an eyebrow, and reached out thoughtfully towards the courier's mind. There were comprehensible thoughts there, but they were all on the surface, like the flash that had tipped him off initially. Some sort of psi mutation? He didn't push, not wanting to tip off the man to the fact that someone was out here listening.
Emma felt the brush of Nathan's telepathic probe reach outwards but did not send hers after it, already sure the courier was immune to her powers. She concentrated instead on seeking out the extent of the anti-psi technology that buzzed through the room, patiently attempting to determine its source by the nature of the pattern that it cycled through, letting Nathan concentrate on the eavesdropping.
"Fair enough," Lense said in a calm voice, the sound of footsteps indicating that he was crossing the parquet-floored room. "Better safe than sorry though, right? Funny, isn't it? Neither one of us probably have any real clue what you have there, Hark. Ours is not to reason why, that's what they taught me. Good rule, wouldn't you agree?"
"We all have our rules, Mr. Lense. Good evening." Footsteps coming back towards the door, and Hark stepped out into the hall, straightening his tie with perhaps slightly more violence than the motion required before he strode briskly down the hall in the opposite direction.
Nathan watched him go, frowning slightly. But if he was telling the truth and he was just a courier, then he'd just handed off the information, and so he was immaterial. His eyes flickered back to Emma for a moment, and an odd, tight little smile tugged at his lips.
#I promise I will not assault the Black Knight,# he said. #But if you have a more subtle approach in mind as to how we can get that information away from him and leave him wishing he hadn't gotten out of bed this morning, I'm all ears.#
---
"Hello, John," Nathan said as he came through the doorway, sizing up the room in one quick glance - sitting room of some sort, Lense in a clearly expensive chair with a laptop on the equally expensive side table. "Tell me, do you ever feel like a bull in a china shop in settings like this?" Nathan went on casually, before Lense could respond. "Definitely not what we're used to." The nails-on-chalkboard feel of whatever anti-psi technology was on in this room made it hard to manage the breezy tone, but he pulled it off. Mostly out of spite.
Remarkably, Lense managed to keep his composure, though even the psi-bafflers couldn't suppress the immediate feeling of shock he emanated when Nathan walked into the room. "Brute force was always more Morgan's specialty, remember?" he snarled. "Yours too. Difference being, Tim knows how to stay dead. I buried you under that ice, Dayspring, but you still keep coming back like a bad penny."
The room around the gravity manipulator seemed to pulse as he stood up, ripples of his power subtly surrounding him. "I don't care if it's in a china shop or all the way to China - I will kill you, Dayspring--" The ripples subsided, and Lense raised a hand to his collar, casually adjusting his tie. "--but maybe not today. What do you want?"
"You never could follow through with your kills," Nathan said, still smiling as he went over to examine a vaguely familiar-looking painting on the wall. "'Erratic', that was the word they used to use to describe you in debriefings. That was why you always had to have someone a little steadier holding your hand." He looked back at Lense. "Rank hath its privileges, which was why they never stuck me with that particular chore. Poor Tim was always having to jerk back on your leash, though, wasn't he? Clean up your messes, explain away your sloppiness... what amazes me is that Shaw puts up with you."
"I'm not the kid I was back in Mistra, Dayspring," Lense answered, walking around to pour himself a drink from the unattended bar in the parlor, almost taunting Nathan by turning his back to the older man. He tossed back a small tumbler of scotch, hissing between his teeth and rolling his shoulders. "Man of privilege these days, even. Working for Mr. Shaw has a number of perks. Not the least of which is information."
He tapped the side of his head with a finger and smiled at Nathan. "You see, I know things you don't, Dayspring. It's not just about power anymore, it's about information. I never used to look past the obvious, I--" he stopped and pointed a finger at his former comrade. "Sloppy, that's exactly right. But now? Now I've grown up. Tell me, do you ever think Aliya got sloppy? That's how they brought her down, you know."
"I'm sorry, was that supposed to make me lose my temper and attack you? Manipulation 101, John - try a little harder next time." Nathan turned away from the painting, still wearing the tight smile. "Besides, I promised a certain lady I wouldn't be so gauche as to smack you around. Back to business, yes? I think you probably know exactly what I want," Nathan went on, inclining his head at the laptop. There was a gleaming USB drive sticking out of one of the ports. "In deference to our oh-so-formal setting, I'll simply say I'm disinclined to let you play out some sort of wish-fulfillment scenario. Mistra's dead," he said more flatly, "and one of these days, Taygetos will be, too."
"Well, Nathan," Lense hissed back, stepping forward, hands clenched into fists and the ripples of his power emanating outwards, subtly bending the light around him and coaxing small creaking and popping noises from the floorboards and walls. "You can't always get what you want."
"Nathan can't," said Emma as she walked in to the room, "but I certainly can." She was the White Queen now, all feline grace and killing power held in the tight leash of regal control. Lense's surprise at her entrance stilled his use of his powers for just a moment and Emma took the opportunity to cross the room until she stood almost within his reach. "Sebastian is quite the foolish man sometimes," she purred. "I'm sure he told you that you were safe from people like us in this little mechanical box that keeps us out of your head. All I can say is that I really must have been neglecting my duties to the Court if he thinks a psi-shield will stop me. Perhaps you can let him know that no matter how off-market he goes to get his anti-psi technology, I'll always have been there first and I'll always have something to over-ride it."
Before Lense could react or focus his powers, Emma twisted something that she held in her hands and the psychic static that roiled through the room cut off abruptly. Before the last pulse of it had even faded away, Lense was on his knees, clutching his head as Emma tweaked his pain receptors to maximum. Neatly she stepped around him and retrieved the USB drive, handing it to Nathan before stepping back to face Lense.
Her fingers clutched his chin, fingernails digging deep into his cheeks. "White Queen takes Black Knight," she said. "Check and mate." Her lips found his, a bruising kiss as she slipped her mind into his, turned off the pain, a judicious tweak of his powers shutting them down for long enough that she and Nathan would have no problems leaving the room. Her lips left Lense and her grip changed from crushing to a caress as she looked into Lense's eyes. "Make sure you tell Sebastian; the White Queen is back. Game is on."
She turned back to Nathan, expression mild. "Shall we go?" she said, holding out her arm.
Nathan tucked the flash drive into the inside pocket of his jacket as they headed back out of the room. It was taking a significant degree of effort to repress the smile at what had just happened, and only a few mental repetitions of the fact that they still had to get out of here without any further confrontations was allowing him to manage it.
"I could maybe learn to love offensive telepathy, with such sterling examples of how it can be useful," he said as he and Emma moved back in the direction of the party. "Should I ask about how precisely you managed that, though? The only time I ever managed to blow out psi-bafflers, I had to do it literally. And I don't think they were working properly in the first place."
"Nathan, my dear, I'm a girl genius who owns a multinational electronics firm with an R&D department that is Benjamin Franklin's wet dream and I have a particular interest in making sure that my own style is not cramped. There's only a certain number of technologies that can counteract psionics and I've got something for all of them. Believe me when I say there's nothing Shaw can find that I can't stop." Her smile was that of a cat that had swallowed the cream as she added in Nathan's mind. #To be perfectly honest, it's because Shaw is particularly unimaginative in his purchasing procedures.#
#No issues whatsoever with that philosophy. I think it's a great philosophy. And I really rather enjoyed the look on this face.# Nathan looked sideways at her. Emma had handled John very effectively, but that didn't mean that he was an entirely known quantity to her. And Nathan felt the need suddenly to balance the scales a little more equitably between them, after what she'd just helped him do.
"John... he's not a subtle man," he said aloud, "and that's me saying it, so you know his lack of subtlety is... excessive. I can't think Shaw's trained that out of him this quickly, not when twenty years at Mistra didn't. He's cocky, and he enjoys hurting people - and deep down, he's a sheep. He misses Mistra. Misses not having to make decisions for himself." His mouth twisted slightly. "I dimly remember him ranting at me about that just before he half-killed me this summer."
"Shaw does demonstrate a certain lack of imagination in his appointments. Selene was always the one with the flair for Human Resources," responded Emma, equably. "An unsubtle, sadistic sheep is probably about par for Sebastian's new course. Fortunately for Mr Lense, if he wants to play in the Inner Court he has to play by a set of arcane and complex rules, which may suit him. Unfortunately for Mr Lense it also means that, if he wishes to hurt me, he'll have to develop subtlety. Direct attacks are so gauche." Emma's lips curled in a slight smile. #I do indeed have counter-technology for most anti-psi electronics but some of the things are the size of a small room. Fortunately, Sebastian runs all of his purchases through his accounting department and I just happen to have someone in that department who provides me with copies of all purchases made from certain companies or involving certain technology. Which means I only have to bring along what I might need. Once I identified what tech he installed here, counter-acting it was fairly simple. Naturally I'd prefer if he didn't know about my dear accountant friend. Or the fact that some anti-psi technology is very, very difficult to counteract. It may give him ideas.# Her fingers caressed the sleeve of his jacket. "Shall we go and check on what mayhem Adrienne and Manuel have caused in our absence?"
--
The courier's reappearance would have been almost unnoticeable, if one hadn't been watching for said reappearance quite specifically. Malachi Hark straightened his tie, his gaze raking the assembled members of the Hellfire Club, and while his expression was perfectly neutral, there was, if only momentarily, a certain smouldering something in his pale eyes that suggested different emotions entirely.
Adrienne's gaze drifted from her conversation with a Brooks Brothers-clad sports team owner as she spotted the man she recognized from Nathan's mental flash reentering the main room. She kept her peripheral gaze on the direction from where he'd come, expecting to see Nathan and Emma reemerge as well. When several moments passed without their appearance, however, she looked around more deliberately. Emma would probably be hard to spot, but Nathan should have stuck out like a sore thumb. Except she didn't see him. Adrienne sent a confused look Manuel's way, following it up with a silent expression that read rather clearly 'should we follow him?'
Manuel was finishing his second drink as he turned his gaze to Adrienne. He shook his head, setting his drink aside to a passing waiter and tugged on the cuffs of his sleeves, trying to attain a little more comfort in his suit. It was tailored to him, perfected in a dark shade of black, ending with two cuff links that matched his ebony shafted cane. Rubbing his chin, Manuel considered his position. He could feel the displacement from the man, specifically from Hark and he glanced at Adrienne again, knowing Emma and Nathan were not within the room without having to look around. He subtly brushed the side of his chin, gesturing for her to start and he would surely follow.
Hark was moving slowly enough through the party, on a meandering course that would take him to the door without being overt about it. There was plenty of time to intercept him. Matching the slow pace, Adrienne ambled towards the courier, exchanging quick pleasantries with several influential people on her way towards the man, sipping champagne and smiling radiantly. She was definitely enjoying herself, and made a mental reminder to thank Emma for the invitation. Casually she placed herself between the man and the door, looking him over with a calculating eye as to what would be the quickest and least painful thing on his person to key into in order to find out whether Emma and Nathan had intercepted him and see if she could find out where they were now. Not that she was worried or anything.
"Hi!" she called out sweetly, sidling up to him with the smile and gait of a woman who was taking full advantage of the alcohol at the party. "I really like your suit. Brooks Brothers, fall 2006 line, right?" she asked, intending to stroke the arm of his suitjacket with the hand she'd she'd never bothered to re-coat after reading Merlino's watch earlier. The jacket would surely give her what she needed to know about what had happened earlier that evening with Emma and Nathan.
When she reached out to touch the suit, however, the courier raised his arm as if to ward her off, and she ended up brushing her fingers against his watch instead, keying in to a scene which looked very much like a graduation ceremony. A much younger courier was given a present- the watch- by a woman with obvious fashion sense, style, and an amazing bone structure. The modeling executive was struck by the woman's features, but besides that there was nothing at all interesting about watching a graduate receive a present. She moved forward on the timeline, stopping when she recognized the familiar surroundings of the mansion they were currently in. The courier slipped from the main room to a back hallway, which she guessed was the point at which Nathan and Emma had decided to follow him and she and Manuel had created the diversion. He entered a room occupied by a rather attractive man with too much facial hair. The courier gave his companion his name- Hark- and Adrienne saw their transaction being completed. At that point Hark returned to the party, where Adrienne saw herself intercepting him. Which meant he hadn't run into Emma and Nathan at all. Damn.
She pulled her hand back and cooed over the suit some more, while giving Manuel a quick glance over her shoulder that was accompanied by a barely perceptible head shake. The man was useless.
Hark gave her an oddly close look, his eyes narrowing. "I... really couldn't tell you," he said, then put on a slight, almost robotic smile. I am being social, look! Really!, the smile said. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening. Excuse me." He slipped past Adrienne, heading much more directly for this door this time.
Manuel caught Adrienne's glance and smoothed a hand over his suit, casually picking up another glass of champaign and taking a sip. He was feeling rather loose tonight and blamed it on the lack of alcohol he'd had over the past year. It was much like an overload tonight, so many emotions, so little control but his relaxed attitude helped him focus a little more on Hark. Anxiety slipped over him and his nerves crawled over his skin, slipping a chill beneath his clothes.
At Manuel's glance, Adrienne strolled over. "Anything useful? Other than the fact that his social skills leave much to be desired?"
"He is anxious." Manuel's emotions followed him as well as he could but with so many people, it eventually got flooded over, snapping him back into himself, finding he still could not hold his concentration long enough to get a proper read. Naturally, he wouldn't say that. "He may be hiding something - what, I do not know - however, we should consider whether or not we are going to stop him, or allow him to proceed with the rest of the night."
#Let him go,# Nathan's familiar voice said in both their minds, as he and Emma reappeared at the fringes of the crowd. The tight smile he gave them suggested restrained glee. #We've got what we came for.#
--
"Damn it." Nathan's muttered curse finally broke the silence in the limousine. The silence had descended as soon as they'd gotten in, and lasted for nearly five minutes as the driver took them away from the mansion at a sedate speed, as if they were merely departing for the night. He looked up at the other three, his expression grim in the light from the screen of his laptop; he'd plugged in the flash drive a couple of minutes ago, as soon as he was sure that there was no one pursuing them right away.
"So much for the instant revelation," he said, looking at Emma. "This is definitely encrypted. Not standard encryption, either, or the decryption program I've got on here wouldn't be giving me the software equivalent of mocking laughter."
Emma glanced at Manny from beneath her lashes before responding. "Luckily," she said, "we're currently awash with boy geniuses. I'll get Doug to have a look at it. In his current - enhanced - state, he should be able to retrieve the information you need."
"Yes," Manuel agreed, frowning at her glance before he dismissively looked out the window to the passing trees. "I'm sure you'll get whatever you need out of Doug." The bitter aftertaste of being manipulated into this position of White Bishop lingered in him and he suddenly felt like being very unhelpful.
Nathan looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "Did you see Hark on his way out?" he asked abruptly. Couldn't hurt to ask. "Get any sort of read off him?" It couldn't hurt to ask. There had been a couple of discordant notes in the courier's behavior.
"Yes," Manuel replied and continued to stare out, distinterested in the coversation, despite the fact that he was being addressed. "Yes," he said to the second question. "He was nervous, anxious if you will. It seemed he did not want to be there." The cane turned in his hands, distracting himself from his jealousy.
When Manuel didn't elaborate, Adrienne rolled her eyes at him. "Christ," she muttered, turning to Emma, "I'd like to request some more cheerful company next time, please," she suggested, hoping very much that there would be a next time. Turning to Nathan, she announced proudly: "I got dirt on a horse's ass with a mafia connection that I can take to Gar- to Fred Duncan-" she corrected herself quickly, wanting to break herself of the habit of calling Duncan 'Garrison's boss', "and then I met your courier and he gave me the quickest brush-off I've probably ever had, which I find very amusing. Too bad he was completely useless. I saw him give the flash drive to a man you obviously met after, since you have the flash drive now, and then he came right back to the party. Nervous guy. Very ugly suit. He had a nice watch, though," she mused. "A very pretty woman gave it to him for graduation." A sage nod accompanied her words, a testament to too much champagne that this seemed to be the most important thing she could think of to say.
Wonderful. Manuel was seething and Adrienne was tipsy. Nathan shook his head slightly, closing his laptop and removing the flash drive, which he handed over to Emma. "I don't suppose you'd let me see what you saw?" he asked Adrienne. "There was something off about him, and we couldn't read him because he's got some sort of funky minor psi-mutation." Hark was a loose end. He didn't like loose ends.
Adrienne recoiled with wide eyes at Nathan's request. "See what I saw in my brain? No! You can't see in my brain! I have private things in there. Besides, you're married. What do you need to be ogling pretty women for?" She kept a disapproving gaze on him for a beat before remembering that Nathan wasn't exactly the sort to go poking around through her private thoughts (probably because he was messed up enough already) nor would he be asking if he didn't feel what she'd seen could be useful. "Okay fine, you can look. But just that, got it?" She held up a finger to him in warning. "Nothing else. No peeking at anything else."
"I think I can restrain myself," Nathan said wryly. He reached out and brushed her mind lightly.
And recoiled, pressing back against the seat as if he really was trying to put distance between himself and Adrienne. His look was as purely stunned an expression as any of the people in the car had ever seen from him before.
"I am sure if he wanted to look through your head, it wouldn't take very long and he wouldn't do it when you're paying attention," Manuel commented drily. "You would possibly never know--" his voice faded away and he turned his calcuating eyes on Nathan and the look he got in return. Maybe he should have asked what was wrong, what startled in that look, but in a car with two Frosts, Manuel said nothing except to raise his cane and knock on the window behind him.
It rolled down and the driver inquired, "Ser?"
"Would you be so kind as to stop by a liquor store please?"
Adrienne gave the cane in Manuel's hands a smack, since it was as close as she wanted to get to smacking his actual person. "Wouldn't take very long?! Hey, I was nice to you and put up with your sulking all evening, you little sack of-" she stopped abruptly when Nathan moved away from her, giving him a confused look as his colour drained. "Shit. Did my brain break your brain, Dayspring?" When Manuel requested a visit to the liquor store, Adrienne leaned towards the window to add to his request. "We're going to need a lot of liquor." With something akin to a feeling of concern, she turned back to Nathan. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Nathan said quietly. Lying through his teeth, as his mind ran over and over that flash of imagery, that familiar face he'd seen at that age only once, on a beach in Tel Aviv almost fifteen years ago. "But the woman who gave Hark that watch was my mother."
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