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No one said a word. The elevation of Suji Park had already been decided in restaurants, in country clubs, on the lake, among little groups of heirs sipping wine at the end of the day. No further discussion would be needed; the rest was merely a formality.
“All right, Ms. Park will be invited to give a proposal to the High Council of Judges two days hence at our regular meeting. Now, for the other items on the agenda…”
The women quickly passed the legislation sent from the senates, and the meeting broke apart. Lila hopped up as soon as Élise slapped her gavel upon the sounding block.
As Lila slipped into the parking lot, she pulled out her palm to check her messages. After scrolling through quite a few from Tristan, she tapped on the ID of one of her best spies.
Oskar Kruger had gone missing.
Chapter 10
After checking her roadster for bugs and turning off the GPS, Lila left Bullstow and drove to Max Earlwell’s home, which looked like the interior of a dollhouse displayed under a massive, overturned tumbler, surrounded by kilometers of trees and woods and cameras. A finely tailored servant let her inside, then disappeared in the bowels of his master’s house. Lila padded over the cream-colored carpet, ignoring the sky-blue chairs, the marble statuary, and the paintings in the parlor. She leaned upon one of the thin metal beams that framed the curved glass panes of the home, each the size of garage doors.
Trees and darkness surrounded the house like arms and blankets hiding a coy woman’s flesh from her lover’s eyes. Fifteen meters away from the parlor wall, a dark Lake Bristol lapped at the shore. It would have been five, but the drought had stolen ten meters, likely the only thing in the world Max couldn’t steal back.
Turning away at last, she sat upon a couch, musing again upon the bulletproof glass surrounding her. The entire outside layer of Max’s home had been plated in it, leaving the majority of his life exposed to anyone with a set of binoculars. He was a little bird in a cage that watched you long before you glimpsed it.
For a spy, Max had certainly built the strangest house of all.
Born John Poole, Max had grown up on the Randolph estate, studying with Lila under the tutelage of Trudy Poole, John’s mother. Busted for several dozen counts of corporate espionage, fraud, and blackmail, she had been surrendered to the auction house with a lifetime sentence. Not a single highborn had bid upon her, not even to put her into the mines out of revenge. Ms. Poole was a loaded gun, and no one wanted a daily game of Russian roulette.
Given the severity of her sentence, Ms. Poole would have hanged if someone had not taken her. Unfortunately, the Massons could not handle the negative PR, given the embarrassing secrets that had been exposed about Chairwoman Masson’s youngest daughter, the only one of her brood that had not inherited their mother’s sense of elegance and propriety. At the last moment, Chairwoman Randolph had stepped forward to take charge of Ms. Poole as a favor to a longtime ally. What no one had understood was that Lila’s mother had actually wanted Ms. Poole all along, she just knew she wouldn’t have to pay.
Ms. Poole wouldn’t do a damn thing against the Randolphs, for if Chairwoman Randolph became the slightest bit unhappy, she could turn her back over to Bullstow. If no one bid on the spy once, they damn sure wouldn’t bid after she’d been tossed away.
She’d be hanged this time, and her son would become an orphan.
The only thing Ms. Poole had ever cared about had been John, a fact Chairwoman Randolph had paid well to ascertain. Ms. Poole had been the sort of mother who kissed her son on the cheek whenever they parted, who put little notes in his luggage whenever he slept at a friend’s home, who watched him too closely at the park. She also had the nerve to share his baby pictures, including the naked ones, with anyone who would sit still for more than ten minutes.
Lila had sat still for ten minutes. She’d blushed, unsure what to say, but she hadn’t looked away.
John had blushed harder. It had been the first time they’d met after all, and he’d tried to kiss her only moments before.
He’d gotten a swollen eye for his trouble, though Lila had been aiming for his nose.
She’d sucked at hand-to-hand even as a six-year-old.
She couldn’t leave, either. The condo on the edge of the Randolph estate was supposed to be out of bounds for Lila, but that made her desperate to visit it. Her mother had known that about her daughter, even back then. Though the chairwoman had intended for Ms Poole to teach Lila corporate defense, Ms. Poole had taught Lila whatever she wanted to learn. What young Lila had really wanted to know, other than how to keep her family safe from people like Ms. Poole, was how to sneak into wherever she wasn’t supposed to be.
Lila had always been too curious and nosy for her own good.
Ms. Poole had been more than happy to comply. She thought it funny. She also thought learning how to attack a system was a far better use of Lila’s time, and far more instructive than learning how to counter.
John had learned alongside Lila, though Ms. Poole had clearly taught her son more tricks than she’d offered Lila. The pair eventually took up Ms. Poole’s assignments as homework. As a consultant to the Randolph militia, she’d occasionally been charged with puzzling out how certain blackmailers and intruders had compromised WolfNet. She’d been well kept for her trouble, and John had been treated like a little prince. That had endeared Chairwoman Randolph to Ms. Poole somewhat, or at least tempered her urge to steal from the Randolphs and flee to Burgundy.
That, and the fact that John refused to leave his friend.
Rather than follow in his mother’s footsteps when he grew up, John had chosen the safer route. He merely watched, both people and systems. He’d quickly earned his fortunes as the best spy in Saxony, growing rich off the highborn and others who could afford to pay for the best.
Lila, too, as she hadn’t the time to watch everyone she needed to watch.
Max slowly descended the glass staircase in the middle of the house, his steps barely making a noise as he entered the room, his path visible through several panes of glass. He had dressed in a pair of nondescript trousers and a plain white t-shirt, both commissioned from a tailor. His shirt’s fabric was a silk blend and incredibly soft, not that anyone would notice it, just like his black boots. They’d been crafted by a cobbler in Greece. Max’s wardrobe looked as common as his face, though far more lurked beyond the surface. If anyone met him on the street, they’d forget him and his clothes less than five seconds later.
That was exactly how Max liked it.
His hazel eyes fixed on Lila as soon as he entered the room, the corners crinkling as he smiled and gave her a bear hug. “Lila, you little minx, I’m so glad you could join me for a glass of wine. I can’t remember the last time you came over for a chat.”
Lila’s hand twisted in her pocket, and she thumbed her jammer. The little pendant-like device would prevent any audio from being recorded, either from bugs that Max’s enemies had planted or the ones he’d planted himself. “Wine? What sort of wine?”
