Code Name Igor Page 17

  Only a little glass was missing from the front wall.

  I hope His Lordship kept the insurance payments up to date.

  She pulled on her gloves and got back to work.

  Dimitri came and took her box of salvaged antique etched glass away, leaving an empty one. Barf was sweeping up the glass splinters, muttering curses under his breath, band aids on his fingers multiplying as the day went on.

  They rotated out for a lunch themselves, then everyone worked steadily until Lord Axel returned, with an Inquisitor and the man Lord Axel had called "Boss" with him. Natasha sent a girl to tell the Ladies, then eased nearer to listen in.

  "Damn, we really made a mess here." Lord Axel stepped up to the paneling where a bullet, hitting obliquely, had left a splintered trail before burying itself in the wood. She could, sort of see an aura of power, and a deformed bit of metal drop into Lord Axel's hand.

  Then he ran his hand along the splinters, pressing them back into place . . . and they stayed there.

  "Hmm, learned that from my Grandfather. I suspect I'll be using it a lot." He looked up the back staircase, as Lady Anastaciya and Lady Verionika hustled down, their anxious glances searching the hall, then settling on the red robed Inquisitor.

  The Inquisitor didn't bother with pleasantries. "Lord Andre Vinogradov and Lord Nikoli Vinogradov were kidnapped and replaced with agents of the Budapest Reborn Government. We staged a raid, and recovered your husbands, and three other men who had also been kidnapped and replaced.

  "They were ill treated, but they are under medical care and are expected to make a full recovery. We will be keeping them in a protected area until such a time as we are sure we have found all the infiltrators. Tentatively, I would say two weeks. That may change."

  ***

  Most of the people Vlad wanted to talk to were in the Grand Hall. Axel for sure. And some very handy additions he hadn't planned on. The red robed Inquisitor was speaking as he let himself in.

  I wonder where the doormen are?

  ". . . I assure you that they will be well taken care of and that they had nothing to do with Lord Vladimir Vinogradov's treason."

  About time they said that word out loud!

  Lady Veronika wrung her hands. "I want to see Nikoli . . . please?"

  "In a few weeks." The Inquisitor gave the ladies a small polite bow starting to turn away.

  Vlad eyed him thoughtfully. He would be even better. "If I may bother you for a moment, Inquisitor . . . If someone was under a very hard compulsion, placed by Lord Vladimir, could you break it?"

  "Most likely. Lord Axel could as well."

  Vlad gave Axel an apologetic nod. "Actually since Lord Axel is still a suspect . . ."

  The Inquisitor snickered. "The Boss" had a coughing fit. Axel sighed.

  "I need to talk to Mr. Solovsky, and I'm not at all sure that he can talk to me."

  They all eyed him.

  "If that's the case," the Boss said, "he may be able to tell us more than I had realized, about Lord Vladimir's plans."

  Axel looked over his shoulder, "Lenni? Ask Mr. Solovsky to come to the . . . dining hall."

  Vlad crossed the hall and walked in. Eyed the big armchair at the head of the table. "I think I'll be a bit tactful and use the other end of the table."

  Mr. Solovsky, pale and dignified, looked distressed, as he touched a shattered hole in the frame of the doorway.

  Vlad pulled out a chair. "Sit down, Mr. Solovsky. We have just a few questions for you."

  "That wouldn't be proper, sir . . ." Nervous, uncertain. Glancing at the Inquisitor and looking . . . hopeful?

  "Sit. This isn't a dinner party." He glanced at Axel and pointed out the door.

  Forty-one was completely straight-faced as he stepped behind Mr. Solovsky.

  Some clearing of throats across the table as Axel sniffed and walked out.

  Mr. Solovsky sank down into the chair.

  "So you assisted Lord Vladimir in his business dealings?"

  "As an Executive Secretary, I deal only with paperwork as assigned by His Lordship."

  Stiff and formal, no uncertainty. Present tense?

  "Did you serve in any capacity other than Executive Secretary."

  "No."

  Flat emotionless.

  "I understand your father is a doctor."

  The man sat up taller. "Father is a brilliant brain surgeon!" He slumped a little. "I wish I had had the courage to face the Challenge . . . but Father and I talked it over, and we both agreed this would be the better path for me."

  "You had Medic training, worked for a clinic. What happened?"

  "The Chief Physician . . . occasionally took some of the drugs on hand for personal use, and sold some . . . the clinic was seized by the government, the staff sold." His eyes flicked around the room. "I had never imagined anything so awful."

  "As Lord Vladimir?" Vlad watched the emotions drain from the man's face.

  "Senior Mentalist Councilman Lord Vladimir Vinogradov is a fine gentleman, and I am proud to serve him." A flat, rote statement. Present tense.

  The Inquisitor smiled, in a very not-nice manner, and rose to walk around the table. "Turn and look at me!"

  Mr. Solovsky started shivering as he turned in his chair.

  The Inquisitor placed his fingertips on the man's temples. "Did Lord Vladimir betray Siberia Max?"

  "Senior Mentalist Councilman Lord Vladimir Vinogradov is . . . a fine . . . and I . . ." He ground to a halt and he and the Inquisitor stared at each other for a long hard minute.

  Then Mr. Solovsky slumped, tears running down his cheeks. "Th-thank you! I, when I found it . . . he . . . I tried to tell people, but . . . it never worked. I feared there was no way around it. Then I realized that there were no inhibitions on medical techniques."

  He turned and looked at Vlad. "I killed him. It was the only thing I could do to stop him . . . but it didn't work . . . not right away . . . then he collapsed . . . and Lord Axel was accused of murdering him . . . and I couldn't, I still couldn't . . ."

  The Inquisitor had stepped back, but as the man sagged, he jumped forward to catch him.

  Vlad jumped to check his pulse, breathing . . . "I think he just fainted."

  In fact he was already recovering, eyes blinking.

  Vlad stepped back, stepped to the doorway, and was not a bit surprised to find both Axel and Natasha leaning on the wall, listening. "C'mon in."

  Axel grinned. "Solovsky. I never even . . . well, I'm not the detective."

  A snicker from the Boss. "Certainly not in any conventional sense. So, we'll leave him to you two to get details."

  Vlad eyed them. "But is this murder, or the legal killing of a man actively preparing an action that has killed five, and would have killed hundreds, if not thousands of people, if it had been successful."

  Axel nodded. "If we had not been actively looking for an attack, we would have been in a great deal of trouble."

  The Inquisitor actually grinned at that. "An excellent point. I will consult with my legal staff, and send you an official document to present to an inquest."

  Axel helped Mr. Solovsky to his feet. "You look like a man who needs a good meal and a long night's sleep. Tomorrow we'll deal with the fallout."

  "I'm so sorry, sir." Mr. Solovsky staggered, leaning on Axel's shoulder, then straightened in horror. "I know I'll most likely be arrested and executed . . . but even if they don't . . . you can't have me here."

  Vlad looked around at Forty-one. "Keep an eye on our . . . suspect. While I report in and find out what crime, if any, has been committed."

  As he headed for the front, he caught Lord Axel's voice.

  "You're right. It wouldn't do to have you around Andre and Nikoli. However, I have this research project all set up and ready to go . . . and things keep coming up so I haven't even gotten it started. An Exec with medical training, some brain specialization? You are exactly the man I need to run the Rehab Center . . ."

  Chapter Twenty-one
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  Trashy Adventure Flick

  Wednesday, December 5, 3738

  The driveway was blocked by strange vehicles.

  Most of the Vinogradov staff was standing around, looking back toward the house.

  Axel abandoned the autocab and eased around to see what was happening this time.

  Aliona looked around at him and grinned. "I even got a speaking part, this time! Well, screaming."

  Enlightenment came. And bafflement. "They're making a movie? Already?"

  "Yeah. They said they'd shoot the end scenes, with the Grand Hall a total wreck, now, and then come back and film the start of the battle after everything has been repaired."

  "I . . . see. I just hope they do the battle itself elsewhere." He frowned. "I don't recognize the logos . . . isn't this for a historical . . . Oh. No. Not one of those horrible . . ."

  It's right there in the Trust, that the House, being the site of the first government, has to be available for filming and other activities. It's featured regularly in historical documentaries and historical fiction.

  On the other hand, only some stock footage has ever shown up in those trashy adventure flicks about Igor. And Igor wasn’t associated with the House. It was usually the obstructing politicians. Or the Bad Guy’s lair—I think they liked the back hallways.

  "Yep. This is Blast Works." She started giggling. "Their tentative title is 'Igor Unmasked.' Someone waved some money at Lady Anastaciya and Lady Veronika and they snatched it and decamped with the Lords to an exclusive resort and spa with the cash.

  "And," Aliona looked over her shoulder at him, "they've got that gorgeous hunk, Alwin Baranov, in to play Igor again. Not as handsome as the Real Thing, but I think I'll seduce him anyway."

  Axel winced. Aliona was the first woman I trained up to be an agent. One of the early Rangers, two years ahead of Sevastyan and Makar. And I couldn't get Dear Uncle to send her for testing. She's a happy little sexpot now. Not that she wasn't pretty close to promiscuous before she got her chip, but she always thought she was "madly in love." What's she going to think when I get her dosed with the zivvy remover, and she realizes just how indiscriminate she's been?

  Actually, she'll be the easy one. The women who've spent a large chunk of their lives under mental compulsions, being raped by and bearing the children of Dear Uncle . . .

  I have a nasty suspicion that removing the wires is going to be a mixed blessing.

  But Mr. Solovsky says he’ll be ready for his first patients in another week. I should go through the lists of servants and see if there are any he could use as staff.

  And as to the filming . . . Oh, what the hell. The Igor horse is out of the barn. If I want any privacy, I'm going to have to use one of my aliases.

  And I’ve used up all my leave and can get back to a nice ordinary work day.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The Rehab Center

  Sunday, December 9, 3738

  Axel swung the big van around the loop at the end of the road from the city and parked in front of the clinic.

  Eight buildings out in the middle of nowhere. Plunked down in the grass. Not a tree in sight, and the big lake to the south and east is salt laden and barely more interesting than the miles and miles of grass.

  A hundred and thirty miles from the furthest outskirts of the city, the last seventy miles of the road occasionally graded gravel.

  “All out! Let’s see what Dr. Solovsky can do.” With his first ever patients!

  The four women left the van a little hesitantly. Bad grow-ins, all four. Servant chips were supposed to lower both intelligence and Mentalist Talents, to make the recipients of the brain chips complacent, hard working servants. Or factory or farm workers. But there were enough random effects that the range of results went from minimal to disastrous.

  These four were close to the disastrous end of the scale. Axel’d picked them for the first experimental subjects partly because they wouldn’t be missed by his family, but also because they needed it so badly.

  And if it worked they’d be useful to the Center. Sabina had trained as a cook, until the chip she’d received had reduced her to being almost trusted to stir things that didn’t burn easily. Gennadiya wasn’t even capable enough to be allowed to clean the family areas, nor the kitchen. Her job was to mop the back corridors.

  Sara was a vague woman. And still very beautiful. She’d had the misfortune of catching Lord Vladimir’s eye, and his mental compulsions on top of the dulling by the chip had completed her descent into a special sort of hell. For eight years and four children she’d been the focus of his interests, and finally discarded. For the last two decades she’d just raised her children and babysat dozens more, up in the servants quarters.

  I may regret bringing her here. She may be happier, dulled down. At least breaking the compulsions to obey Lord Vladimir have stopped her wandering aimlessly about looking for him whenever something triggered her.

  The fourth woman, Agata, well, she didn’t ruin too many things, so long as she was only allowed to run sheets and towels through the washer and dryer, and was not allowed to iron anything.

  Doctor, sort of, Solovsky knew them all, even if he’d been at the pinnacle of servitude and the women at the base. They all recognized him, as the formerly snooty Exec who was Lord Vladimir’s secretary. And not trusted, just because of that association.

  “Dr. Solovsky is going to give you each a quick scan, and then we’ll have a snack and drink and I’ll show you where you’ll be living for a few weeks.”

  They trooped in meekly enough, even if they did lean away from Solovsky.

  And lunch, with the zivvy dissolving wine.

  Which had them eyeing both men, and unfortunately settling on Axel.

  Solovsky looked relieved, and Axel took the women off to the first apartment module. Four little bedrooms and a sort of double bathroom, with two showers, two stalls, and a double sink.

  Hopefully they won’t fight over the facilities, although they’re used to sharing . . .

  He managed to get them to make their own beds without getting dragged into one. They were, after all, trained to be polite.

  Solovsky was trying hard to not look amused.

  Axel grinned. “You’re on your own now. Good Luck.”

  “They neither like nor trust me. My professional reputation will remain untarnished, not that I actually have one, yet.”

  “It’ll come. And hopefully I’ve got you a cook and a laundress. What Sara and Gennadiya can do . . . well, we’ll find out.” Axel looked around . . . “You’re going to need a heavy-duty mower. And maybe some landscaping.”

  Solovsky nodded. “Some benches, and I was thinking perhaps some outdoor exercise equipment. Maybe.”

  “Yes. We don’t really know all of what we’ll be dealing with, do we?” Axel walked back to the van and started unloading. The women wandered back outside, and came to get their luggage, while Axel and Solovsky hauled food into the mess hall module. “It’s going to get a bit cramped if you wind up with a full complement of patients.”

  “Yes.” A quick smile. “I look forward to it.”

  Axel drove the van back to Vinogradov House and turned it over to Five-eighteen to refuel and garage. He and the other chauffeur, One-sixteen, were the only Cyborgs the family owned. Dear Uncle Vladimir having had a dislike for them, they weren’t ever allowed in the house, and slept over the detached garage.

  Axel eyed the selection of vehicles and shook his head. “I’m going to have to get myself a car.”

  “We can drive you anywhere, now, sir.” One-sixteen was very dignified. “Lord Vladimir’s car is available.”

  “Ultra luxury, reasonable size. Beats anything else. I’ll think about it. Actually, it’s all electric, isn’t it? Pity. I frequently drive beyond the broadcast area.”

  He’d regularly taken the van, with chauffeur and a batch of kids, on movie and museum trips, or out to parks, the zoo . . . I’ve been too busy lately, I need to get back int
o my old routine, minus dodging the Evil Uncle’s attention.

  And it’s two weeks till Christmas. I need to get candy, games, and books for all the kids. Yeah, even Andre's and Nikoli's.

  Christmas trees . . . talk to the family about whether they want the usual big one in the Grand Hall. Might be a nice return toward normal for everyone.

  Big stuff for the Rangers. They all need "upper class exec" suits.

  And without Uncle Vladimir . . . I might even enjoy it this year.

  ***

  Three days later, he drove out after work. All four women were still amorous, but . . . doing things.

  Sabina had taken over the kitchen and seemed to be having fun cooking, and Agata was reading and sewing things, snatched the knitting needles and yarn he’d brought at Solovsky’s request, and Gennadiya was on a computer filling wish lists with things she was certain the Rehab Center needed.

  Axel approved all the purchases, had them sent to the Cliff House, and promised to bring them as quickly as they accumulated.

  Sara . . . was no longer vague . . . and very distressed. “I just . . . for twenty years! I don’t know if I can deal with his children anymore. I know they’re mine, I know I loved them . . . I don’t know what to do!”

  “Don’t rush. Why don’t I explain things to Dimitri first. He can come out and talk to you and you can figure out your emotions on a near adult, and not hurt the younger kids.”

  She nodded. “Yes, that’s . . . sensible . . . but . . .”