02 | an easy job

The building had definitely seen better days, Ramon reflected. The paint was peeling, the windows were in need of a wash, and the knocker on the door hung askew. Definitely not what he pictured when he thought of a manor. Everything from the welcome mat that said "HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS" in loopy cursive to the dented front door screamed "older white woman with decorating problem."

It was, however, big enough to be imposing. The windows, though grimy, seemed to frown down on him as he climbed out of the black SUV, black backpack slung over his shoulder.

Ramon Solis was not a big man, and the mountains of food crammed into his system by the overzealous aunts of his youth had done little to remedy that fact. His black hair was messy as always, and his warm brown skin was smooth and unlined, making him look a lot younger than his forty-five years. His dark eyes were alight with a half-concealed wonder that many took as evidence of his being a soft touch. They would later learn, that, despite his gregarious nature and calm, easy manners, he was anything but.

In truth, Ramon simply had a way with people. It was his gift. He knew how to appeal to their reason, their emotions, could convince them of his truth easily. Originally he had trained as a covert combat specialist, but the physical training had proved too demanding for him, and he had been shunted to operations management, which turned out to be an excellent use of his skills. He was good-no, great-at getting people to work together, at analyzing strengths and weaknesses. In the field, his gift had made him a capable hostage negotiator. He might not have lived out his childhood dream of being a glamorous field agent, but he was a necessary field agent. And his skills had proved indispensable.

Ramon had been born in a poor neighborhood of the city, the eldest of three sons, born to a single mother who supported her family through grueling hours at the local Big'n'Tall.

The doctor and the systems analyst, Zafir and Aza Hamid, respectively, followed him from the car, gazing at the building with some trepidation. The siblings' olive skin, dark eyes, and slender, bird-like frames were nearly identical, except for Zaf's glasses and Aza's green hijab. Ramon smiled. It was expected that the two would be nervous-it was, after all, their first field mission, but Zafir had written an award-winning paper on viral microbes at the age of sixteen and Aza had designed camera systems that could evade any security at the same age. They were the most field-ready agents of the entire crop.

The same could not be said for Damien Wilkes, their trainee combat specialist. At 6"5 and with his curly hair buzzed, the chocolate-skinned young man certainly looked the part of an experienced hand-to-hand-combatant. Whether he was one...now, that was a different story. And Danica Kesley, the last of their team, hadn't even completed her full stint at the academy yet. Technically, she couldn't even be here.

But Ramon had asked for her personally, and what he wanted, he got. His service had earned him that, at least.

The others resented Danica already, he could tell. The drive here had been filled with stony silences and dirty looks. Not that she had noticed; Danica was more than happy to fill the silence. But her nitpicking and pedantic lectures only served to alienate her from the other agents.

Ramon knew why she did it, of course. Working for Federatee Union of Sentient Life was highly competitive, and working for their special operations division, Olympia, was more so. Everyone was highly skilled, so of course egos would butt heads. And putting newbies in their place was a tradition that dated back to his time as a novice. Danica doubtless felt she had to be twice as prepared as everyone else.

She hadn't attempted to blend in, either, a requirement for being an Olympian agent. Her outfit today consisted of skintight leather jeggings, a grey angora sweater, and high-heeled "combat boots" that looked more suited for a dance floor than actual fieldwork. Plus, there was the makeup. Layer upon layer of caky foundation and blush, eyebrows far too shapely to be natural, blue eyes heavily pencilled and framed by unnaturally long black eyelashes. Her hair was the worst, a new job probably picked for this particular mission. The underlayer was dyed white, and cut short and spiky. But the top layer was cotton-candy pink and fell in long and flowing ringlets to her elbows.

She looked utterly ridiculous. But Ramon had faith. She was a genius with computers and could, with the proper training, become a tech specialist-part of the analysis team, like the Hamids, but with light combat abilities. It was a small field, but Danica had expressed an interest. And Ramon saw in her a drive to succeed.

The group filed up to the door, standing on top of "HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS," and knocked. Ramon had double-checked the file before getting here, and he had a good idea of who would open the door-the owner of the house. Duchess Isolde A. Greanleefe. Age:25. Nationality: Centauriian. Family: Trandello C. Greanleefe (husband), Llenwi P. Greanleefe (stepson), and Oceania W. Greanleefe (stepdaughter). Notes: Duchess of the Planet of Orb, House Firedrop (Agriculture). Business friendly, moderate conservative. Educated University of Centaurii. Allegedly a great beauty. He remembered the pictures-green eyes, blonde hair, freckles, sensual, stunning.

So when a nervous little agent, barely past his Standard Field Exam, opened the door muttering. "There's been a change of plans," he knew he was in for a surprise.

••

Agent Eliza Xiao was barely five feet tall in her stiletto pumps, but her glare radiated an authority that made her seem much taller. She had a pretty oval face, smooth black hair, striking blue eyes, and a flawless complexion accented by minimal makeup, and she wore her tailored pinstriped pantsuit like battle armor, oozing importance and respectability. It was hardly surprising. As the daughter of a Chinese multimillionaire and the French ambassador to China, she had been blessed with a privileged childhood, attending the best schools. She had followed that up with a promising academy career, with the notable exception of anything combat-related. But she could speak six languages, held an Oxford degree, and had a dogged persistence that had made her a shoo-in for success-it wasn't all about one's fighting chops, after all. Last Ramon had heard, she had received some sort of position among the upper administration of Olympia.

What is she doing here?

It would have been more awkward if they hadn't been sleeping together, he reflected. Liaisons between agents were forbidden, but that had always been the one rule administration tended to turn a blind eye to. It was true it was over, but it gave him an unpleasant sensation, seeing a woman and knowing that just two years before, they had been seeing each other regularly.

Eric Flynn, too...he hadn't seen Eric in forever. Eric was a traditional combat operative, one of the best in their year. He had always been an arrogant little prick, believing that his skills somehow made him a superior agent. He was a little more haggard-looking, but that douche-y haircut-shaved on the sides and long on the top-remained. Tattoos ran the length of his arms, and he gave Ramon a condescending smirk. Ramon nodded in his direction, but otherwise did not acknowledge his presence. There was no love lost between administrative agents like himself and Eliza, who planned missions, and operatives like Eric, who executed those plans.

"What are you doing here?" The words came out before he could temper them, but he was in no mood to be subtle.

"A gift," Eliza announced. "from our new director."

We have a new director? he thought, but then Eliza stood to the side so he could see the third person in the room, and he stopped breathing.

Kalyani Servai. Dark brown skin, thick black hair falling to her waist in a long braid. Snub nose, small chin, large black-brown eyes. Her ever-present leather jacket and boots. Every inch of her small body was toned with muscles.

There was an awkward pause, in which he opened his arms to embrace her and she held out her hand to shake his, as if they were just being introduced. They stood, two paces apart, frozen. He could smell the scent of her, pine and mint and something else, like the outside. He wasn't sure what to do, but then he took her hand anyway, shaking it like it was their first meeting, which it wasn't, and like he knew why she was here, which he didn't.

Eliza's expression flickered from sour to smug, as if she was the one who had arranged it. "Now," she said, "shall we begin the briefing?"

••

Kalyani Servai was an anomaly, the only child of a prominent neurosurgeon and a well-known trial lawyer. At the age of four, her high-strung parents already had her educational career mapped out, from which extracurricular activities she would participate in to which colleges (only the very best) she would be allowed to apply to. And for the most part, she had fit her parents' model of excellence quite well. The only thing they probably couldn't explain was the martial arts.

It had been her father's idea, the weekly classes at the Sun Po Dojo. "It builds character," he had said. But his small, taciturn little daughter had taken to it. Before long, she was winning city tournaments and mastering the newest techniques. She stayed on top of her studies-Dr. Servai expected nothing less-but the obsession continued, the compulsion to train harder, train faster.

A psychiatrist had once told her she was "addicted to challenge," and Ramon thought that was an accurate description for her. He himself had put himself through the grueling Olympia training because he had wanted to help people. She wanted to prove she could do it. And do it she could. She was the best field agent of their year, the best at marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat. She had achieved a perfect score on the Standard Field Exam, one of a handful of agents to ever achieve that.

Ramon had never been able to relate. He wasn't wealthy-he had grown up in a poor neighborhood of the same city, the child of a single mother barely making ends meet at the local Big'n'Tall. He had never been a prodigy or particularly exceptional. She was infuriating in that way-she never seemed to notice how much better she was than anyone else. But it was also her best quality.

She didn't like to talk, but he did, and he talked enough for two of them. And he wasn't put off by her reputation, like so many of the others. And gradually, awkwardly, they became friends, partners, working in tandem. It was nice, but he couldn't help but long for more. But that had been impossible with the existence of Thomas Lane.

Agent Thomas Lane had been another of the prodigies. He, like her, was a natural, but missing her perfect score on the exam by a point. Lane had never forgiven her for that, but Lane was good-looking and he could be charming when he chose, and he had fallen into a mad affair with her. Liaisons were forbidden, but when Lane achieved the position of Missions Commander, he made sure to overlook any violation of that rule, at least where he was concerned. He was brilliant, but ruthless and cruel in a way that she had never been. And he knew exactly how to get under Ramon's skin. The two crossed each other daily, levying bitter assaults against each other, leaving Kalyani the unwelcome job of peacekeeper.

The last of their missions-a deep cover assault against a deadly intergalactic crime ring-had been Lane's downfall. He had grown increasingly paranoid, drinking excessively, taking painkillers, buying more guns. Eventually, he had stolen on board a flight to Centaurii, headed to a central police precinct, and killed fifteen officers. The doctors had declared him a paranoid schizophrenic, and he had been institutionalized.

Kalyani had thrown herself into work, ignoring Ramon, ignoring anyone else, taking the farthest, remotest assignments she could. He had not seen her in years, had not spoken to her. How strange it was, a little disturbing almost, he thought, that this new director knew exactly what he needed.

••

After the briefing, they moved their things into the rooms that Isolde Greanleefe had set up for them. Eric and Eliza remained as well; they were to retain executive privileges, which made Ramon uneasy. He liked to control his own people, and there was something a little off about this whole mission.

He had been asked to guard a lot of people in his career, but they had always been alive.

He caught Kalyani as she was entering her room. "Do you have a minute?"

She looked surprised. "Of course." Even leaning on the doorframe, she looked graceful, competent. "Is this about when the package is going to arrive?"

"Eliza says it should be about four days, once they convince local police to get their hands off it. They're being terribly uncooperative, considering how important everyone seems to think this is. Personally, I think we should send in some people to negotiate for it earlier-" Ramon stopped. "Actually, what I wanted to know was, how did this new director know that I wanted you?" She raised an eyebrow, and he amended it hastily. "That we work well together. If they're new, they're probably younger, so I doubt they would know either of us personally."

"I have no idea. I didn't even know you were here when I was assigned." She crossed her arms.

"Good luck they did, then, otherwise you just would have gone on ignoring me, eh?" He tried to temper it with a smile, but it still sounded accusing.

She sighed. "I am sorry. Really, I am. But you know how things are. I just...didn't want to bother you."

"You wouldn't have bothered me." Another awkward pause. "How are you?"

"Better. You?"

Mentally? "The same." He shrugged. "What do you think of the kids?"

She smiled. "I can tell you picked them."

"I did." He knew what she meant. The Hamids were far from being the best in their year, but they had a way of synching their lab work that was brilliant. Wilkes had been recommended to the academy for his heroic rescue of an elderly man from a burning building. They weren't the most promising talents, but they could work well together.

"The only one I would have picked is the computer girl."

"I know." If she had selected the team, Kalyani would have picked the brightest, the best, and Danica certainly fit that. But what Ramon had noticed was that the best and brightest tended not to work well together. Egos and awards and authority conflicted, and it was difficult to assemble anything useful.

"So why did you pick her?" Kalyani asked curiously. "She can't cooperate with others. Isn't that the pre-rec for getting on your team?"

"Because I don't want us to just guard the body." Ramon flashed her a crooked smile. "I want us to find the killer."