Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X, #1)(72)

“Your hair,” she said in amazement, peering up at him. He looked as though he’d simply lopped it off in one cut. The ends of his remaining hair were uneven, but he was still dazzling to behold. “You didn’t have to do that. Or you should’ve at least gotten it done properly.”

He waved it off. “A deal’s a deal. I didn’t win. Well, not in canne. You want to keep it as a trophy?”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s actually pretty creepy. I was just joking about keeping it on my dresser.”

“Good to know.” To her amazement, he unceremoniously threw the hair away and then sat back down beside her in bed. “But now you don’t have anything to remember me by.”

“Do I need something?” She drew him toward her and felt her pulse start to quicken again. “You aren’t going to return my calls?”

He smiled and ran his lips along her neck. “Were you going to call?”

“Well…” She allowed him to ease her back down on the bed. “I might need another canne warm-up. You know, to keep me in practice before a real match.”

“Well, then, for that, you can call me anytime.”





[page]CHAPTER 17





THE MOST DANGEROUS MAN IN THE REPUBLIC





The Nipponese were pleasantly deferential when Justin and his entourage showed up. Reactions to servitor visits varied widely, and he and Mae had received lukewarm ones at the previous three grants they’d visited. A lot of castals resented federal interference, even if it was for their own good. Servitors especially made them nervous, because if a servitor found a dangerous religious group on the grant, he or she could pretty much call in a military invasion. None of them wanted that. The relationship between the Gemman government and “the patriarchies,” as they called themselves, was tenuous enough. The fledgling RUNA, fearing the kind of separatism and resistance to authority that had sparked Mephistopheles’s creation, had had to be careful in allowing its wealthy supporters the ethnic solidarity they’d requested. Patricians had been exempted from the mandates, at their own risk of Mephistopheles and Cain, and given their own land—with very strict regulations.

The entrance to the Nipponese land grant resembled that of all the other grants: a gated road with a checkpoint and a sign welcoming others in both English and the caste’s native language. The guards were lightly armed, per the agreement with the government. The RUNA’s flag was the only ornamentation since no unique castal symbol was allowed either.

Justin’s contact inside was an older police officer who went by his Japanese name: Hiroshi. He didn’t fall all over himself the way the gate security had, but it was clear he was floored at the idea of hosting a servitor and pr?torian in his jurisdiction.

“The victim’s wife moved out,” he told them when they reached the house in which the murder had occurred. “But nothing has been changed whatsoever in the building. We got extensive pictures and documentation at the time, and I verified this morning that everything is the same.” He hesitated. “I hope that’s all right.”

“That’s great,” said Justin, earning a relieved smile.

Leo, though pleased at having uncontaminated evidence, was less thrilled at the house’s size. “It’s huge. This is going to take forever.”

To be fair, the house was enormous, especially for two people. The architecture was in keeping with common Gemman luxury homes, though the pointed roof and a few other flourishes hearkened back to the caste’s Japanese roots. The inside told a similar tale. Painted screens and clean lines paired with trendy lush furniture and media screens. Here was a family in possession of stereotypical castal wealth.

Leo immediately began to take apart the house’s main security panel. It monitored every door and window in the house, and like the other sites, initial investigation of the system’s memory had shown no sign of entry anywhere. Video surveillance had been disabled, providing the only clue (aside from the dead body) that someone had been inside.

“Remind you of the old Koskinen estate?” Justin asked Mae as they strolled through the house.

“Our koi pond was bigger,” she said. She gazed around and walked over to an ornamental tea set. Her features were luminous in the light pouring through the window. He was dying to know more about the ex-boyfriend she’d hinted at on the plane and needed to figure out the best strategy for getting information without receiving bodily harm in the process. The relationships people formed—or didn’t form—spoke legions about them, and he was a little surprised that someone who feared others seeing her emotions during sex had managed any kind of long-term relationship.

She didn’t say it was long term, said Horatio.

She didn’t have to. It was in the way she spoke. When he received no response, Justin couldn’t help but add, I guess I can pick up on some things that you guys can’t.

Of course you can, said Magnus. Otherwise we wouldn’t need you.

“Dr. March?” Hiroshi appeared with a petite young woman. “This is Mrs. Hata, the victim’s wife.”

Mrs. Hata looked drawn and nervous, but Justin read it more as a reaction to his presence rather than a sign of any culpability. Police investigations had confirmed her alibi, and she didn’t look like she would have had the strength to drive the dagger into her husband’s heart anyway. He gave her a friendly smile, hoping to put her at ease.