31. Belly of the Beast II

Fred Richards squirmed in his black leather seat. In another hour he'd have to report to the High Council. The summons had come unexpectedly and he'd spent considerable time trying to figure out the reason for that meeting and preparing a report for the various actions he had suprvised in the past two weeks. There were those nosy San Francisco reporters he had made disappear, then the two deals with medical supplies to keep up the cover they had set up for themselves. Plus, that White fellow had located a few of Manticore's staff that had gone into hiding.

It had become harder and harder to find them since White had broken with the NSA and had to resort to CIA covers only. Plus, ever since the Eyes Only affair, they had been told to lay low and let the waves settle down. And then there was this other guy, Otto, who was supposed to bring in some high interest catch of White's and instead had wrought a huge mess he had to deal with right now. All in all a very busy time, but at least he wasn't in charge of the Seattle transgenic round up.

Just the thought of that brought a smile on his lips, one too quickly interrupted by the entrance of his assistant.

"Sir?"

"Yeah," he responded gruffly, annoyed with the interruption.

"The persons you expected, sir."

Richards waved them in. The last thing he needed now was a media screw up he'd have to report to the High Council.

Otto came in, accompanied by a tall bearded man who looked decidedly too young to be a high ranking Manticore official as announced.

Richards let the two men wait in front of his desk. He had always relished doing so, since it allowed him to observe as well as enjoy the anxiety most people displayed in such a situation. One look at Otto was enough of a reminder why White had insisted on keeping his lapdog around, even beyond the association with the NSA. The man did indeed look like a loyal bulldog while his eyes had an intelligent spark to them. Obedience and intelligence in one person were very hard to find these days, a reason why he had reluctantly agreed to a less drastic punishment for the mess outside.

The other guy though, irritated Richards by his very presence. Was it his beard, or his eyes that slowly, almost professionally, moved around the room, taking every detail in, not in the least phased by the silence? His clothes didn't look like much, either.

"Well," Richards spoke up, "Otto, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you have any idea of the disaster you caused outside? People have been injured, cars totaled, negative publicity...."

"Sir..." Otto tried, bewildered at the last words.

"Luckily, the victims are being taken care of," Richards continued, stressing the words carefully.

Had Otto cringed? Richards smiled. The man's training was good but not good enough. The blinking light on the phone distracted him into picking up.

"The situation is under control sir. But there was a dead man in the car. Gunshot. We found the gun, too and brought everything to storage 56B."

"Clean up and don't forget to check for prints." Richards disconnected without another word, giving the two men in front of him all his attention.

"Well, Otto, before you enlighten me with the details of the accident out there, please show some good manners and introduce me to the gentleman with you. He's one of ours, I hope."

"Yes. He's my driver, sir," Otto answered, his face a straight mask.. He looked intensely at the man next to him and added. "And occasionally my mechanic, sir."

While shocked and pleasantly surprised that he wouldn't need his own shaky cover, Logan managed to supress any outward manifestation of his feelings. All he did was blink under the scrutiny of the Familiar. Had it been too much?

"Ah, I see. Indeed, the doorman reported seeing him fixing a car this morning. Mr..."

To Richards, the man seemed a bit pale as he answered, but then the incident outside was probably cause enough for more than pallor where simple humans were concerned.

"Nicholas Kruger, ...sir"

Richards eyed him with disgust. Not only was the man sweaty and dirty, but his casual clothes were all torn up, too. Where on earth did White find these guys? At least Otto had the decency to wear a suit.

"And what were you doing in front of our building this morning, Mr... Kruger?"

"The Aztek had trouble with the ignition and I thought I could take a look at it while waiting."

"Waiting for?"

"I told him to meet me here with a spare car, sir." Otto cut in.

"I see, you don't like our limos anymore, Otto." Richards chuckled and waved Otto to lay off when he tried to answer.

Richards abruptly stood. One day, one day, this filth, these sorry excuses for life forms, they'd all be gone. He had to hope that. In the meantime, the sooner this Kruger got off his plush carpet, the better.

"Otto, excuse me for a second." Walking to the door, Richards motioned to the dirty man.

"Well, Kruger, I have a car down in the garage that our people couldn't fix, maybe you'll give it a try after you clean up?"

"Sure, sir."

Standing in the doorway, Richards waved to a guard,

"Please show Mr. Kruger here to the garage, Harrison will take him from there."

Making a point not to shake the mechanic's hand, Richards stopped for a moment to look in his brown eyes.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Kruger. From a familiar to another one. Fenos'tol."

The answer came with only the slightest hesitation.

"From my father before me. For my sons. Fenos'tol."

Satisfied, Richards nodded him to go, but lingered for a moment to watch him disappear. Kruger was quite a bit down the hall when Richards went back in to debrief Otto.