By this point the office of the Association for Historical Fencing had opened. 'Good morning,' Leif said to the woman who answered the call. 'I'm inquiring about the credentials of a member, Alan Slaney-'
'I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Slaney is not a member of the association.'
Leif didn't have to fake his confusion. 'I–I don't understand,' he stammered. 'I was given to understand Mr. Slaney received his training in New York and belonged-'
'He is a former member,' the association's representative admitted.
'Is he terribly no good?' Leif asked. 'How do you know he's out of the club? What did he do?'
'Mr. Slaney's case is unfortunately quite well-known to the administrators of the association,' the woman said carefully. 'His expulsion was not a case of academic knowledge or fencing ability.' She looked uncomfortable. 'It was a question of attitude. Members complained that his approach was incompatible with the aims and ideals of our group.'
'So he was a real creep?' Leif said.
'Sir,' the woman replied, 'we do not comment on Alan Slaney.'
David looked as though he'd been awake for some time when Leif called.
'Cartoon duty,' he explained. 'The little guys are only allowed to watch so much holo entertainment. And I get to supervise-you know, make sure it doesn't get too intense for them. But one of their favorite shows is at the crack of dawn.'
'Can't you just record it and play it back for them?' Leif asked.
From the look David gave him, this argument was obviously a sore spot. 'But then, when they go out to play, the other kids will have seen it already.' He shook his head. 'I'm sure that's not what you called up to talk about. Have you dug up more dirt on Alan Slaney?'
'I've talked to some people up in New York,' Leif replied. 'From what they tell me, Slaney left town about two steps ahead of a lynch mob. The guy was such a pain in the butt that, despite a bias toward blades, his fencing partners figured shooting was too good for him.'
'Not like the well-known, well-loved Alan Slaney we've encountered.' David frowned in thought. 'Well, there are some possibilities. Maybe he's had his identity stolen-'
'By an impostor who just happens to be an expert historical fencer,' Leif said. 'Stop yanking my chain, Gray.'
'So I guess you're not going to buy the pod people theory, either,' David said with a grin. 'Have you checked how he traveled down here? I envision an airplane almost crashing, a near-death experience that made Slaney completely reevaluate his life-'
'You are bad,' Leif accused. 'Once you start, you won't stop. But I'm afraid we have to get a little more serious. Here's a guy who loves fencing, but makes such a nuisance of himself that he has to leave New York. He comes to Washington following his other big interest, politics, but can't even hold on to an internship.'
David nodded. 'He's got an advanced degree in political science, and he's dusting computers in some corporate backwater. If I had those credentials and that happened to me, I'd be pretty damned bitter.'
'Instead, he goes around like the male version of Little Mary Sunshine,' Leif said. 'I don't think he's had some great spiritual conversion. The stuff we've seen him pull in Latvinia pretty well contradicts that scenario.'
David raised his eyebrows. 'I think you may have put your finger on a motive for why he changed his behavior.'
Leif frowned in sheer confusion. 'What are you talking about?'
'No, it's what you were just talking about,' David replied. 'Latvinia. Slaney put a lot of time and effort into creating it.'
'His perfect universe, which can only exist in virtual reality,' Leif scoffed.
'It may be his private world, but he wants other peor pie in it,' David pointed out. 'So he hooks up with the appropriate local AHSO special interest group, and becomes a professional nice guy.'
Leif slowly nodded. 'Okay. But why?'
David shrugged. 'It's like the old saying. You draw more flies with honey than with vinegar.'
'I know that, thank you,' Leif said irritably. 'I mean, why does he have to have people in Latvinia? What does it prove? In what way could it possibly pay off for a pretty intolerant control freak?'
'You'd have to drill a hole in his head to get any sort of answer-' David broke off his words suddenly.
'What?' Leif leaned forward eagerly. 'You just had another thought. Spill it.'
'I thought of one other place where we might get answers,' David unhappily admitted. 'It's a stunt you or Megan might think of. Captain Winters would definitely disapprove.'
'Slaney's computer system,' Leif said in disbelief. 'You're suggesting we hack into the guy's personal computer! I can't believe it! When do we start?'
Chapter 17
It's not fair that I have to do this, Megan grumbled to herself as she walked to the nearest store to pick up milk, muffins, and other breakfast stuff. The boys devoured it all. Why should I have to replace what they ate?
Unfortunately, she also knew that if she didn't take care of it, the shopping probably wouldn't happen. Mom and Dad were both working against tight deadlines to finish books. Her brothers would be tearing out of the house on training runs or heading off to summer jobs. Everybody would be hungry.
So somebody had to get food. And by getting it now, she'd keep the peace at home in a way that would benefit everybody, even her. Still, she sighed as she lugged the bag of groceries home.
Megan got back just in time. Her father came into the kitchen, apparently moving in slow motion. 'Coffee,' he said in a hoarse voice.
'Fine, Dad. Just sit down. You know you're all thumbs when you've been up late working.' Megan got a filter- great, running low. Something else that needed buying. She wrote it down, then loaded the coffeemaker, and soon the room filled with the smell of brewing coffee. Dad inhaled gratefully. Megan wrinkled her nose. Everybody in the house was a coffee drinker-except for her.
The boys came thundering through, grabbing cups of coffee and things to eat. Dad sat quietly enjoying his first cup of the day. Then Mom padded in, wearing slippers and a robe. She poured herself a cup and sat down opposite her husband. 'You got to bed late,' she said. 'How is the book going?'
'I'm getting there,' Dad replied. 'Just a few chapters to go. But I've got to hit the library. Last-minute research. How's your project coming along?'
'My editor is acting like a little kid who has to go to the bathroom,' Mom replied with a smile. 'I think I'll have the series done before any real… accidents.'
While both her parents headed for their computers, Megan did the dishes, then went through the house, tidying up. In the living room, she found three books lying on a table-The Illustrated History of the Machine Gun, The Lives of the Saints, and The Book of the Sword.
Dad's research, she thought, though trying to fit three such unlikely titles together was as much of a mystery as the story her father was writing. Megan skimmed through the third book with some interest. Maybe I'll read this later.
Then, because it was still her turn, she started collecting dirty clothes for another round of the dreaded laundry. With seven people at home, there was even more than usual. She ran a bunch of loads through the washer and dryer, folded up the clean clothes, and delivered them to the appropriate rooms.
Her final load took Megan back to her own bedroom. She glanced from her watch to the computer-link couch. Then, dumping her fresh clothes on her bed, she sank back against the upholstery of the couch, synching in, giving orders to her computer.
Enough of being a housemaid, she thought. Let's have some people around to pamper me for a while.
She opened her eyes to find herself in that library/ study on the second floor of the palace, sitting in her familiar seat while the Graf von Esbach came through the door.
'Colonel Vojak and your Texan friend will join us soon.' The prime minister took a deep breath. 'If all goes well, this nightmare might be over soon.'
Megan gave him an impish smile. 'So, you consider working with me a nightmare.'
