Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

you?"
    "I'm at my apartment, Douglas. Having a bit of a lie down. What's up?"
    "Get to Parliament fast. The shit has hit the fan, and we are all in deep trouble. Can't brief you now, not even on a secure channel like this. Just... get here as fast as you can."
    "On my way, Douglas."
    The King broke contact. Lewis swung his legs off the mattress and rose quickly to his feet. He was scowling hard, his ugly face so harsh now it actually frightened Jesamine for a moment. Lewis grabbed Jesamine's discarded clothing and threw it at her, and then climbed quickly into his black leather Champion's armor. Jesamine clutched the dress to her chest and looked at Lewis almost timidly.
    "What is it, Lewis? What's wrong?"
    "Get dressed," he said tersely. "That was my emergency line. Something's happened. Something really bad, by the sound of it. I have to get to the House. You had better, too."
    Jesamine responded to the urgency in his voice, and started putting her clothes on. Lewis was dressed and ready to go long before she was, and strode impatiently round the room as he waited for her to finish. His I mind was reeling with appalling possibilities; everything from open Neuman insurrection to an outbreak of plague, when another, far more disturbing thought hit him. He stopped his pacing abruptly, and looked across at Jesamine.
    "This couldn't be about us, could it, Jes? I mean; there's no way he could know about what just happened here. We were so careful . . ."
    Jesamine shrugged, studying her reflection critically in the bedroom's only mirror while trying to do something with her tousled hair. "He's the King. Who's to say what he can and can't know? I only have hardened security professionals; he has Anne. But I don't think this is about us, Lewis. He wouldn't want a public scandal. If only for his pride's sake. Look, go into the other room and try the news channels. See if they're showing anything yet."
    "I haven't got a vidscreen," said Lewis.
    "What; not at all? All right, that settles it; next time we're going to my place, and to hell with the difficulties. I absolutely refuse to live without the little necessities of life. There are limits, darling."
    "So . . . there is going to be a next time?" Lewis said carefully.
    Jesamine shook her head, exasperated, marched over to Lewis and kissed him soundly on the mouth.
    "What did you think, Lewis? That once I'd had you, once I'd ticked you off my list, I wouldn't want you anymore? We are in this for the long term, Lewis; get used to it. Some things are just meant to be, sweetie."
    "Unfortunately, you and I seem to be the only ones in the whole damned Empire who believe that,"
    Lewis said dryly. "But we'll work something out. I know we will."
    "Of course we will, darling!" Jesamine kissed him again, brushed briefly at his armored chest with her hand, and headed for the door. And then she paused, and looked back over her shoulder at him. "Tell me; are you at all familiar with the plot of Macbeth'?"
    "Not funny, Jes," said Lewis, shaking his head as he went after her. "Not funny at all."
    High up on a rooftop, Finn Durandal looked down on the street intersection, and studied the public vidphone booth for some time, from what he hoped was a safe distance. There were a lot of people about, coming and going and passing the phone booth without a second glance. It was situated right in the middle of a downtown shopping precinct, on a not particularly busy corner, and it all looked innocent enough; but Finn still wasn't satisfied. You couldn't afford to take any chances when dealing with ELFs.
    They'd insisted on speaking to him directly before they'd agree to join him in his plot to destroy the Paragons, and since neither side was foolish enough to show up in person, that just left the usual means of communication, of which public vidphones were the most safely anonymous. Finn chose the setting, the ELFs chose the particular booth, and they both agreed on a time. Finn got there an hour early, just in case, and watched from the rooftop, his force shield up, to protect him from sniper fire.
    All the sensors on his gravity sled insisted the booth hadn't been tampered with, or booby-trapped in any way, but still Finn was suspicious. He had no doubt the ELFs would sacrifice the possible gains of his plan for the more satisfying pleasure of a definite strike against him. They'd do anything to get their hands on the man who'd executed so many of them in the Arena. Finn could understand that.