Strangers and Lies Page 2

  "Bitch." The word was muttered softly, under her breath as she started to find some clothing to wear. She opted for a pair of dark blue trousers and matching shirt, along with black boots, since that was basically what the Westmorlands wore when on duty. She was, after a fashion, in the Special Service and while she could wear pretty much whatever she wanted, being the only female non-Westmorland member of that very elite crew, she tried to blend in. It made her feel a bit more like she belonged and wasn't just playing a game. Besides, it was that or a dress, since she had company. Wearing this would basically tell the world that she was on the job, or at least she hoped that was the message. Otherwise it was probably being rude.

  Women wore dresses here, unless they were making a statement. Gwen just wanted to be comfortable.

  After putting on some make-up, a thing that all women did here, if they didn't want to be a social pariah, she walked down to the drawing room, hoping she had the right place. The mansion they were in was huge, but at least now she didn't have to pretend it had been her childhood home anymore, so if she lost her way, she could just ask someone. It saved on wandering around and looking in every single room she found. If she could find anyone to ask, which wasn't guaranteed. It was still dark outside, and even here no one would be awake for another half hour or so. For all that the men had gotten her from bed, they'd also rousted Winslow, who'd managed to show up dressed and pressed in his work clothing, looking like he'd had hours to get ready. She'd have to ask him how he managed that trick. It was something she might need to copy soon, if people were going to be about at all hours.

  She heard the gently bantering men, all of them chatting in a fashion that sounded happy enough. Conversational and not like two of them were freaking out about Westmorlands being there at all. That was a good sign, since a lot of regular people here were terribly prejudiced against them. Just because some of them could explode and do roughly the damage of a nuclear bomb. Not that those people were allowed to just run around free. No, they were kept as virtual prisoners somewhere. Gwen had never even met any of them and she'd been around nearly a thousand Westmorlands over the last eight months or so.

  When she came into the room the men kept talking, except the Con-sev man, who stood and gave her a small bow. He was about fifty, she realized, though he looked and sounded younger than that. His hair was still dark and she realized that it was natural, since the men here didn't go in for vanity in that fashion. They wore perfectly pressed clothing, and took excellent care of their mustaches, if they had them, but this man was clean shaved. The man in burgundy, who seemed to be from the army, wearing an actual uniform, if a dressier than normal one, stood as well, after a few moments, smiling grimly. He had a gray mustache, which was large enough it looked like a mouse was glued to his upper lip. His hair was short, but not a buzz cut. Actually, out of everyone, the most military looking person in the room, to Gwen's eye at least, was Darrick.

  She was probably a close second.

  "Miss Farris, your man, Winslow, rebuked us rather sharply for our poor manners after you left. I feared he'd have to thrash us for a moment, but he left off, to get us some coffee, thankfully. I'd like to apologize for our poor manners. It was early when we left from Worthington, but I assure you, the sun was fully up." This came from the Con-sev man, whose name she still didn't know at all.

  Gwen nodded a little, knowing better than to excuse them for it. If the butler had spoken harshly to them, it was a huge breach of protocol, wasn't it? The man never did anything in an improper fashion himself. The military man gave a sharp look which was directed at Adam, who glanced back with an almost dull gaze, not intimidated at all it seemed.

  The man in burgundy sighed and then started to apologize for the Westmorland, which got Darrick to hold up his right hand, still seated.

  "Miss Farris is on duty. Notice the uniform? That means she came to work, not be coddled and cosseted. Trust me, if she felt we were being too rude to her, we'd know about it. Probably because we'd still be crawling around the back yard, clutching ourselves and wondering what had happened." He grinned a bit, and gestured the other men down with a wave. "I'm not at all certain that wouldn't simply have been the literal case either. I saw her fight, and kill, a full cohort of Saracen Mercenaries once, starting from an unarmed position. She didn't even know how to use a crin at the time. I think we can take our survival at the moment as a sign that we're forgiven, right Gwen?" He laughed about it slightly, but let his eyes go steely, looking directly at the other men, as if challenging them to question his word on what he'd just said.

  Neither of the other men did, and while one of the Westmorlands she didn't know looked slightly amused by the idea, the other elbowed him and gave a single head shake. It was a true story after all, even though it wasn't a thing she liked to dwell on. Before coming to this place she'd had to fight several times a year, trying to survive in a world that hated freaks like her. But she'd never killed anyone. Here it had taken about a month and a half before the need arose. It had given her a slightly skewed image of the world she found herself, which was for almost everyone a good bit safer than where she was from.

  Winslow came with the coffee on a nice silver cart, and started to serve everyone with very precise movements, as if he hadn't dressed these same men down not ten minutes before. She took hers black, since that was the polite way of doing things here, if you cared about that kind of thing. All the men took a cup too and drank it stoically, as if the slight bitterness was something that took manly resolve to conquer. She did too, but it really just didn't bother her at all. There was the slightest hint of cinnamon to it, which was nice. It was also served very hot, so she sipped carefully for a while, sitting without being told to, since no one here would, except Adam, and it would come out sounding pissy if he had to do it.

  The conversation that started then was a lot different than she'd figured it would be. Instead of pestering her about laser sights the men started talking about the new Students Service, which was a program that she and little Erica Westmorland had put together on the fly one day. It was pretty much the Hitler Youth, if they could have gotten that to be run by Jewish people to foster diversity instead of hate. The idea had tickled Gwen, but these men were being far more practical about the whole thing than she'd been. It was easy, it seemed, to proclaim there were going to be summer camps for city kids and military jobs for the older ones, but half the people under eighteen in the Kingdom had signed up and regularly went to meetings, which made the thing a giant headache to get together.

  The military man, who the others called General Hevesy, smiled about that part of things anyway, not all that taken aback by the challenge.

  "We're setting the Forward Scouts to it. The hard part is dealing with the girls of course, we don't have a lot of female personnel. Ten thousand girls coming next week, and not a clue what to do with them. Any suggestions Miss Farris?" He even said it like it wasn't all her fault, actually just asking if she could do something about it.

  It took a few seconds, since it was a lot harder to come up with things to actually do that way than not. They had a whole bunch of social rules here and putting young military men in to be in charge of a group of school girls was not going to go over at all well. For that matter it was probably an actual point, since at least some of those guys wouldn't be that much older than the young ladies at all.

  "Um..." She was trying to buy time and nearly started to suggest that she just didn't know what to do, when her mouth spit out words that clearly shocked everyone else in the place. "Yes... We'll grab the female Westmorlands for that duty, if they can be spared for it at all. We just won't tell the kids that they're Westmorlands. Dress them in Army uniforms. As to what they teach, well, bomb spotting skills, woods craft and hiking. Add in some extra first aid as well." That last one got a strange look, since while they had that here, the idea of slapping on a bandage or tourniquet to stop bleeding, it wasn't called that at all. She floundered for a few seconds trying t
o remember what it was called, then just shrugged. "Basic nursing."

  That went over better and even if it was a lot harder to free up that many female Westmorlands, no one questioned her suggestion that they simply be called "Counselor whoever". It wasn't the military after all, and they didn't need to drive the girls like they would the boys. In fact the biggest argument she got was over the curriculum, since the men around here thought that having the girls hike and do more than light exercise was a bit improper. Too much for the delicate flowers coming to them.

  That got her to smile at least, which was a fake thing that she'd had to practice in front of the mirror. Her old face couldn't manage a real smile, and her best attempts had kind of hurt, so she hadn't learned the habit. Now she could do it, but it still took work to remember how. Like wiggling her ears, which was also a new thing.

  "Oh? Perhaps you're right, but we promised them actual learning, as well as a bit of fun. I think that we should deliver, don't you?"

  The men demurred, but obviously thought she was being too difficult or something. They politely didn't call her on it, so maybe it really wasn't that? Adam at least would have, right then, if he felt the need. Darrick would do it later, when he had the chance not to embarrass her. Oh, he'd dress her down if it was required, but not where anyone else could hear it overly. Since that meant having her alone and it was hard to manage at Park Street, the man would have to be a good bit more polite about it than he might have been otherwise. In fact they probably couldn't have gotten alone time if they tried. Winslow and the staff would be all over them.

  They stayed on through breakfast, making plans. It was a big deal, she realized, since the men were actually listening to her ideas for once. That was one of the big drawbacks of the place. If you were a woman, you didn't get a fair hearing for most of the things you said, especially if the men listening didn't know you. Unless you claimed that some other man was trying to take "liberties" with you, in which case most men would defend your honor with their lives it seemed, or at least thrash the offending man.

  These guys were paying attention and the General actually took notes and rather politely asked if it was allowed for him to contact her about the project. It was clear that he was pretty close to clueless about what girls would need or want. It wasn't that bad really, since they'd just use what the boys were doing as a model for it all.

  "Except that the girls will get basic self defense and weapons training too. I don't know if your boys will be getting that, but if they don't it's going to make the war games later in the week a bit awkward, isn't it?" She was joking but all the men looked horribly shocked, except Adam, who nodded, as if it just made perfect sense. Then he was a Westmorland and if there was a non-sexist group on the planet that was it.

  "Brilliant. Yes, a bit of competition never hurt anyone. We should definitely do that."

  The room was silent after that for a long time, but Gwen had a strange feeling that she'd just opened a much larger can of worms than she'd planned on and that Adam was helping her dump them all over the nicely carpeted floor.

  Chapter two

  It wasn't until much later in the day, feeling incredibly bored already, when the telesar chimed for her. That part was great, since there was a small and rather pleasant tinkling of bells when it happened, rather than a harsh ring or a song that she didn't care for, like so many cell phones were programmed for. At first she wondered if it was a wrong number or something, since no one had called for her from the government for weeks, but it turned out the be Count Goebbels, the communications minister or whatever the King called him that week.

  "Miss Farris? I have some rather troubling news..." He sounded pretty worked up, his voice coming from the air in front of her, from between two of the telestator globes, which looked like dull metal grapefruit on polished wooden sticks. The device had five of them, and to keep it working she had to put her right hand on the center one. It wasn't really needed, she'd discovered, just a way to prevent the Crystal pack from being accidently worn down. Take your hand off, on either side, and the line would cut automatically. It probably also kept the conversations from being too long.

  "Is... there something I can do?" For a second she wondered if it was going to be about her idea to have the boys go up against the girls in a war game at their little camp thing, but the men had actually warmed up to the idea when she explained that they could use it to get the boys to try harder and that the girls would almost certainly throw the game, if it looked like they were winning too easily. After all that was their culture, so Gwen doubted they'd be able to get them to do otherwise. Then they could manage mixed teams, with small, but gender divided, units for the next one. It would keep things interesting and give the kids a chance to meet some people of the opposite gender without it being too improper.

  The Count however wasn't calling about that, but rather something far more sinister sounding.

  "It's... Well, some children have gone missing from Worthington. It might be nothing, but a group of men was seen moving them into the back of a lorrie and driving off, which is very unusual. There are three of them, two girls and a boy. We don't know that this has anything to do with Doctor Debussey or her cronies, but..."

  "When?" Her voice had to have sounded at least a little panicked she realized, since the man on the other end of the conversation didn't answer for a few seconds.

  "Beg Pardon?"

  "When were they taken? Is there any chance that it was by a relative or someone known to the kids? Were they arguing or fighting as they got in to the lorrie? Do we have a description of the vehicle and can we track it if we do?" One of the troubling things she'd found was how slowly these people did things here. If she was only getting this call a week later...

  "Ah... Seven hours ago, I believe. Normally we wouldn't mention this kind of thing, but if the Doctor is involved, they might be sacrificed. I don't know about the rest, but I suppose I could get that information for you. Would you like me to contact you with it?"

  It was her turn to be silent for a moment, finally shaking her head.

  "No. I'm coming to you. Or at least to Worthington. I need the Westmorland Detectives, all of them that can be spared, along with armored Special Service and Con-sev. We don't have time for a lot of playing around on this, we need to move fast."

  She was almost tempted to break the line right then, so she could get in touch with people herself, but it would mean a lot more and probably be faster if the Count did it. Ferdinand should be in on this one too, she decided, saying the words out loud.

  The man gasped, "So you do think this is related to the terrorism we've had?"

  That nearly got Gwen to lie. She didn't know what the rules here for things were, as far as missing children went, but she decided to go with the truth as she saw it. The Count knew who she was now after all.

  "I don't know. Honestly, it probably isn't. If we don't find those kids within twenty-four hours there's a ninety percent chance they'll be dead however. They're probably being raped right now, so excuse me if I get all heavy handed and demanding. We don't have a lot of time to lose or debate this." She sounded nearly mean when she said the words, but the man didn't wait long at all.

  "I'll see to what you need then! I'll send someone for you as soon as possible. Out." Then the line broke. It was a strange way of getting off the device here, since most people just hung up, but it was efficient. No one said goodbye here at all.

  She'd actually pinned Heather down about it and learned that it was due to a very old superstition that telling a person goodbye could mean that you wouldn't see them ever again. It was what you said as you lay dying, not a thing to use day to day. Only in the Western Kingdom however, everyplace else was more normal that way.

  Running she managed to grab an old duffle from her room that had some carefully packed clothing in it, as well as some survival rations and a knife. She also took her special crin and PC, the small force producing weapon that Charles had given her to use. Sh
e should have had it on her already, she realized, but that, being armed all the time, was a new thing in her life and half the time she still forgot to do it.

  Then she ran to the front yard, meeting Mrs. Vernor, Ethyl, in the front door, a young boy in Westmorland blue standing in front of it, holding a Teletransport sphere out toward her.

  "Ma'am? I was told to get this to you. Sorry about the delay."

  "Not a problem. Mom..."It was what the woman had asked to be called, since she was, in fact, Katherine's mother. It was still better than Ethyl and really, kind of a habit now. Everyone knew who she was, but it was a sign that Gwen was on their side, to anyone listening. It was just the truth after all, she'd back them as if they were her people, so everyone that was hating on them could suck it. "Can you get our friend here something to eat or drink? Then a quiet place to work, so that he can recharge his sphere."

  Then without waiting at all, she pushed the button on the top of the device, not really certain where exactly she was going to be coming out. It turned out to be an office building, a large and rather plain wooden thing. No one was waiting for her, so she ran to the hallway, just in case anyone else was going to be coming in soon. She hoped so, but it might take hours to get the people here around. She wasn't really certain that anyone else would care about this overly. Not until after the kids were dead and gone at least.

  "I'm Gwen Farris, who do I need to speak to?" It sounded strange, even to her own ears, just standing in the rather large hallway, the floor under her feet dull and dingy, compared to most of the places she'd been lately. Then rich people made things shine, or at least they hired people to do that for them. Dingy didn't mean poor here though. It meant that she'd gone to a place where people actually worked for a living.