“I’m not talking about Mr. Stauss running it, silly. I mean using Stauss Interstellar Holdings as the cover for the organization.”
Dunham’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“…And you say you discussed it with Geoffrey?” Bobby continued, sometime later, as they wandered back toward the pool deck.
“I did, just today,” Amanda declared. “He liked it.”
“And he thought it made sense?”
“Entirely.”
“And the bit with Stauss Interstellar?”
“He called it ‘brilliant.’” Amanda looked smug. Bobby snorted.
“I guess you liked that.”
“Well, I did, yes. I’d like it better if my husband the Emperor agreed.”
“Okay. Like it better, then. Because he’s right. It is brilliant.”
“Oh, goody!” She clapped her hands in delight.
Bobby laughed, then kissed her.
“But what about someone to run it?” Dunham pressed, after they’d thoroughly discussed the concept of Stauss Interstellar as a cover, and she had completely convinced him of its worthiness. “Like you said, whoever it is needs to be incorruptible.”
By this time, it was fully dark. They had reached the pool deck, circumnavigated it twice as they talked, and now sat on a bench in front of the fire pit, which was lit to provide warmth against the breeze at that height, and the ambiance of firelight; while there were lights around the pool for safety, they could be dimmed at the Emperor’s orders – and had been, half an hour before, so they could see the stars better. They were in the center of a huge city, so ‘better’ was relative; still, it had helped.
Peters leaned into Dunham in a contented fashion, despite the subject of their conversation. Absently he recalled, shortly after they had first met, she had called him ‘comfortable,’ and he decided her opinion of him hadn’t changed. Which suited him just fine. Over the years of their marriage, he had gotten – and given – plenty of other compliments verbal and otherwise, usually in private, so that each knew exactly how attractive they found one another, and that was enough.
Then she diverted his attention back to the more serious subject.
“Have a look at this personnel file,” she said, pushing him a folder in VR. He opened it and read the information in the lower part of his vision. He paused as he studied the image that went with the file.
“Hm. He looks familiar. I might have met him once.” Dunham scanned down the file. “Oh, yes. Here it is. He was involved in the investigation of the Vash Medved murder. I think he was working with Detective Gorski at the time.”
“He’s also the one who scoped out and determined Ilithyia I was probably murdered. Though admittedly, he couldn’t prove it, after all this time. Still, that’s the reason the medical center downstairs started doing their own compounding for us.”
“Oh really? That’s interesting. And promising.”
“More promising: he was heavily involved in anti-espionage work during both the Alliance and DP wars. Including going undercover himself on several occasions.”
“Impressive. OH! I know who he is, now! He’s the inspector who ensured the Auer Group conspiracy was taken into custody without their being warned by their handler! Yes, this looks really good, Amanda!”
“You’ll want to meet with him, of course.”
“Absolutely. A file can only take you so far. And it’s been years – decades – since I actually saw the man.”
Ashton blinked when he saw the Imperial header on the mail message that morning in his office. He opened the message and read it, then continued to stare at it. What in the name of all that’s holy could that be about? he wondered. Well, only one way to find out. I got two hours to get ready and get there.
He rose from his desk, donned his jacket, adjusted his tie, and headed for the locker room of the New Headquarters building.
Two hours later, and now decked head to toe in his formal dress uniform, complete with medals, he arrived at the Imperial Palace South entrance. There, he checked in with the receptionist, and an Imperial Guardsman appeared almost immediately. He led Ashton into one of the little people-mover cars, and he was whisked the three miles to the Palace proper. From there they entered the elevator, and they went up several floors. The elevator opened onto a lobby area, and the guard led Ashton over to another reception desk.
“Inspector Ashton to see Mr. Hawker,” he told the receptionist, who nodded.
“Very good. Mr. Hawker has been expecting you, Inspector Ashton. He’s on his way now.”
The Imperial Guardsman nodded, turned, and headed for the elevator.
Before Ashton could sit down, Darrel Hawker, the Emperor’s personal secretary, arrived.
“This way, please, Inspector,” Hawker said, turning and heading back the way he had come; Ashton followed. “Have you ever had an audience with the Emperor before, Inspector?”
“Well, he wasn’t the Emperor then,” Ashton remembered with a grin. “His sister was. Empress, I mean.”
“Oh! So you know each other already? From before he ascended to the Throne?”
“I think I’d rather put it that we’ve met a couple times before he ascended the Throne. I don’t claim to know him.”
“Ah. Do you understand the protocols?”
“Yes; I did meet his sister the Empress at that time, and had occasion to learn the protocols then. My supervisor, Director Carter, has drilled them into me ever since, in case I’m ever filling in for him when an Imperial summons comes in.”
“Very good.” By this time, they had reached Hawker’s office, and he walked straight through to the far door, knocked once, and opened it, stepping just inside. “Your Majesty, Inspector Ashton is here.”
“Please show him in, Mr. Hawker,” a deep voice responded.
And Ashton was ushered into the Emperor’s presence.
He found
