Paul Sr. Alcorn

The Rhoedraegon Chronicles: Book Two


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dress with a bright floral pattern and her heavy thick soled shoes. To look at her one would never guess that she was capable of such grace. Even her bushy unkempt mousy brown hair gave her the appearance of uncouth peasantry.

      Zoe was a patient woman, well schooled in her craft and adept at remaining unseen while keeping visual surveillance on whomever her commission involved. She could feel the beginning of an adrenaline rush, anticipating her next move. She looked for a suitable place to act and was pleased to see her target turn into a small pleasure shop near one of the government buildings. It would be perfect. She quickened her pace and entered the lobby in time to see him disappear into a private room to the left. When the hostess noticed her she smiled back sweetly.

      “I’m sorry, but wasn’t that Harold Shelling that just came through? I was told to meet him here, but he didn’t tell me where he would be.”

      The attendant eyed her coldly, brushing a lock of unfashionably long black hair to one side and back over her shoulder. Zoe did her best to hide her disgust at the young woman’s appearance, her shining oiled hair long on the right side and short on the left, a very passé style and not well executed in any case. Oil stains dotted her shapeless teal kimono, also very much out of style. She reminded herself to add her to her commission list as a public service if nothing else.

      “You say he’s expecting you, citizen?”

      “He is,” she said, diverting her eyes and blushing convincingly.

      “Second door on the left. Should I announce you?”

      “Thank you so much, but no. I’d rather surprise him.”

      She crossed demurely to the door of Shelly’s private room and opened it without knocking. Inside, Harold Shelly, a short corpulent man of fifty with pock marked face and prominent, almost tubular lips, looked up in surprise and slowly scanned her up and down. He smiled without much enthusiasm as he shifted on the pillows and repositioned himself to one side of the dosing station. Absently he inhaled the thick white smoke that the post was emitting and said, “Hello. And who might you be?”

      Zoe stepped in and closed the door.

      “You are, Harold Shelly, aren’t you?”

      “Yes, that would be me.”

      “I am here at the behest of Carlos Alarcon, whom you may remember you owe a great deal of money.”

      In the next instant, his body slumped to the floor, his head raggedly severed so quickly that the human eye could not have possibly followed the move. Zoe stood with her back to the door, looking at the severed head as blood dripped from it like a leaky hose. She licked the blood from her fingers, breathing heavily. Again she looked down at the head, the thin smile still on the victim’s face, the color not yet gone from his complexion.

      “I’m very sorry I don’t have time to have you for lunch, Mr. Shelly. I do so enjoy the taste of human flesh, but I really must be going.”

      She tossed the head to one side and released the catches on her floral dress. As it fell to the floor she stepped out of it, revealing a black one piece suit that fit her slim body as if it had been painted on. She released a catch on the oversized belt around her waist and a sheer yellow skirt virtually floated down as it unfolded to just above the knees. She pulled the wig from her head, and shook her own lustrous silver hair into a perfect close cropped bob and opened the door.

      As she crossed the lobby she stopped at the reception area and smiled at the astonished attendant. “Would you hold out your hand, please?”

      The woman complied and a second later looked down in astonishment. She was holding her own still beating heart.

      “Your appearance offends me,” Zoe said and as the woman slumped forward, she wiped the blood from her hand on the woman’s dress.

      Zoe stepped out into the street and continued on in the direction she had followed her commission, weaving as before through the crowds and this time looking very much the part of someone of grace, lithe as a dancer, strikingly beautiful and overwhelming sensual. Four hundred yards further on she was prompted by the comm link in her left temple and slipped into a deserted alley.

      “Champion?” she said.

      “Zoe? This is Admiral Tan. I need to discuss a possible commission.”

      “Yes, Admiral?”

      “Can you be in my office in one hour?”

      She thought for a moment. “If necessary. An hour and a half would be better, if it does not interfere with your day.”

      “That will be fine. I don’t know if what I have in mind will be necessary, but I wish to put you on retainer, at least for the next three months.”

      Zoe frowned briefly. “It will be expensive, sir.”

      “That will not be a problem. There is someone you need to keep an eye on.”

      She broke the link with a mental command and stepped further back into the alley. Slumping heavily against a wall, she closed her eyes and tried to regain her strength. She would need an hour of rest to recuperate from the work.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      The Bay of Naples complex came into view all too quickly, floating in a holo in the center of the compartment like a hazy image through a scratched lens. The annoying voice of the skimmer’s internal control shook Mathew from his netherworld where he had busied himself with routines and code, oblivious to his surroundings.

      “I say again,” the voice said. “Please make all preparations for landing. Please secure loose items and return seating to a normal configuration. Our landing site is under security alert and privacy bubbles are recommended for your own safety. Please acknowledge that you understand this information.”

      “Understood,” mumbled Mathew and set his work aside. He was not about to stow ‘all loose objects,’ most of which were the materials he was working on, and privacy bubbles were not needed. He understood the nature of the security alert better than anyone. He had instigated it and he was aware that there was virtually no danger to them right now.

      Archer seemed better. She straightened herself in the chair, arranging the folds of her knee high skirt and checking the heads-up display of the vehicle’s interior, running her fingers through her hair and studying her face. Mathew marveled at the woman, traumatized, depressed and physically sapped of strength from the trip, yet she could still check to be sure she was presentable. He wondered if she was even consciously aware of her actions, whether or not it was an automatic action learned over the years, but he not sorry to see it. Any sign of a return to normality was a good sign right now.

      “The landing will take a few moments,” he said setting his comm screen aside on the bench. “You might want to take a look at the scenery. It’s really quite spectacular, far better than any holo can show.”

      “That’s Vesuvius to our left, isn’t it?” she said, suddenly fascinated. “Can I see it as a real image?”

      Mathew instructed the skimmer and the holo disappeared as the walls of the craft became transparent. He looked at the huge ruined cone of the mountain, now below them and to the right, its side totally blown away by the last eruption, creating a horseshoe shaped cavity large enough for a medium size city. It dominated their view on the landward side of the craft.

      “That’s Vesuvius,” he said flatly. “To the left there just on the horizon is what’s left of Naples. To the right, further south, you can see Sorrento. It’s not as large as it was, but after that last eruption over half the population left and moved further down the coast. It’s too bad, really. There wasn’t any damage at all to Sorrento when the mountain blew.

      “I’d move too,” she said and looked over at him. “Just the thought that the next eruption could come in their direction would be enough to convince me to get out of the way. Isn’t that what any sane person would do, Mathew? Wouldn’t they avoid the possible disaster if they could see it coming?”