Chapter 10: Lions and the Fox Turned Hound

I'm on the hunt I'm after you
Smell like I sound, I'm lost in a crowd
And I'm hungry like the wolf

--Duran Duran, "Hungry Like the Wolf"

"Brad, I'm so glad you could make it," Claire said, giving her son a kiss on the cheek.

"I was in town, and I knew that you were running this charity event. I had to come and show my support," Crawford told her, kissing her in return. "You look wonderful tonight." And she did. Claire Crawford would never show up in public looking anything less than her best. Her hair was professionally styled into a dramatic upsweep. She was dressed in a dark blue designer original, which deepened the sapphires in her antique diamond and sapphire choker.

There was something beyond the polished surface. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were rosy. She looked. . . happy. Content. Unpleasantly, Crawford realized that it had been many years since he had seen contentment on her face. He waved Schuldig forward. "You remember Aric, don't you?" He let his hand rest on Schuldig's shoulder, just a fraction longer than necessary. His mother, and the society mavens with her, noted the subtle gesture with their sharp, nuance-attuned eyes.

"Of course," Claire said, extending her hand. "It is good to see you again, Herr Rudiger."

"The pleasure is mine," Schuldig assured her with a smooth bow and a kiss to her fingertips. The mavens with Claire relaxed and cooed over the old-world gesture. Crawford left Schuldig to charm and distract the crowd as he tried to find Dr. Sutter and his wife. He found them arguing on the back terrace.

Crawford slipped into the shadows and watched the two. They both were tense, even though they were trying to hide it. Lovani jumped at small sounds. They must know about the deaths of their former test subjects. But how? In the shadows, Crawford silently moved closer.

"I don't know, Frankie. I have to go to that charity golf tournament this Saturday. They're expecting me. To suddenly leave town—"

Lovani whirled on her husband, her face twisted in fear and anger and her arms crossed over her body. "How can you worry about playing a couple of holes at the expense of our safety?" Her arms tightened protectively. "Rochelle, Xavier, and now Tina." She raised a hand to cover her face. "Xavier and Tina, they were just children."

Sutter sighed. "If you hadn't gotten us involved—"

"You weren't complaining at first, Mike. We had real psis. You saw what they could do. You saw it, just like I did."

"It was exciting, at first. But we should have realized the dangers involved."

"What dangers? No one warned us that they might be targets for murder! Ridicule or skepticism, even persecution, yes. Not murder!" Lovani paced agitatedly.

"Shh, keep your voice down," Sutter said tensely, peering into the dark.

Lovani changed tactics. "Please, Mike. It'll just be for a few days. Just until things die down here."

"What about Dr. Randa? No one's warned him yet. He's in just as much danger as we are."

"Sam disappeared as soon as Vela told us the program was disbanded. I guess he turned out to be smarter than us."

Sutter smiled wryly. "Coming from a country familiar with changes in regime no doubt made him more sensitive to smelling what's on the winds of change."

"We should have followed his example." Lovani sounded frightened.

Her husband came over to her and put his arms around her. "There, there. Don't cry. We'll be all right. We'll leave for Atlantic City right after the tournament, I promise. Let's get back inside before anyone misses us."

Crawford watched them pass. They were so wrapped up in each other, they hadn't thought to check further for eavesdroppers. He rejoined the party himself, this time to see if he could ferret out the location of Sutter's favorite Atlantic City retreat.

----

Schuldig found himself ringed by several women, most old enough to be his mother. His agile mind flitted from one to the next as he held court. Most of them were harmless. Some were drawn by his accent or his good looks, some by the crowd already there, starlings mindlessly seeking a flock to gather in. He had reeled in others just to add variety. The surge and loss of his powers as Claire Crawford made her rounds around the room had been disconcerting at first, but now he just looked on it as a challenge.

His telepathy had always been a useful decoding tool, a device he could use to interpret what certain expressions and undertones meant. Over the years, he had gotten to the point where he could read people's expressions easily, even without exerting his telepathy. He used that skill now to ride the turbulent tides caused by Claire Crawford, to fill the gaps she left in her wake.

This was an easy crowd, really. Claire Crawford was a seasoned general in the social whirl. She had carefully executed her game plan, had weighed every invite and mixed and blended people like chemicals, never allowing too discordant parts to interfere with her carefully orchestrated event. It resulted in a homogenized group, one she could easily handle. For someone like Schuldig, who delighted and excelled in manipulating people, that made the room child's play, even without his psychic talent.

The ones he had to watch were the two coy ones. Fittingly, they were related, mother and daughter. Out of the brightly colored flock that fluttered around him, they were like two vultures in songbird plumage. The mother was tall, elegant, and well-preserved by the best plastic surgery money could buy. The daughter was a echo of her mother, tall and elegant, the still-natural version. The plastic surgery was years down the road for her but undeniably there. Schuldig didn't need to be a pre-cog to see that.

The daughter was easy to deflect. She just wanted to get him in bed. She was tired of her latest boy toy and was shopping for a new one like she would shop for a handbag or pair of shoes. Schuldig diverted her by planting a new challenge before her—the hapless waiter that circulated in this portion of the room. Unluckily for her, the young man didn't like blondes. Or women, for that matter.

The mother was the more difficult of the two. And the more dangerous. She was a vulture with a vendetta. Somewhere, somehow, the Crawford family had crossed her and she wanted payback. She was a canny old hand at it, too. Schuldig saw in her mind the wrecks of other enemies that had wronged her buried like debris in a silty inlet bottom. Schuldig had skimmed through them, reading her past victories and admiring them, all the more impressive with her lack of telepathy. She was canny, but Schuldig was cannier. He amused himself by toying with her, dropping tantalizing tidbits here and there. She was the one who clued him in to the reason for the change in the room.

Her predatory eyes narrowed, and anger flashed in them as she spotted something past him. Schuldig parted from her on the pretext of getting another glass of wine from a passing waiter. As he turned, he looked for what had raised the woman's ire. It was probably Crawford, coming back from eavesdropping on the good doctors. Crawford had already sent him the information as he made his way back. It was Crawford. But the wrong one.

Senator David J. Crawford's entrance into the room was marked by a change in the currents of conversation. He had not failed to garner attention, as he had anticipated with his precisely timed entrance. The elder Crawford moved through the glittering crowd like a shark, white teeth gleaming in a wide smile. To the prey that surrounded him, the smile seemed hearty, charismatic. The perfect smile for a politician, his best weapon against incumbents. He had defeated six of them with that white dental scythe.

To fellow predators, it carried a different light. Cold, precise, efficiently wielded, it was a mask to hide behind as he went searching for the next victim. The eyes told all. They were shielded by respectable wire-rimmed glasses, but Schuldig could see that gaze sweep around the room, assessing, evaluating. Schuldig noted the probing gaze stop abruptly, then lock. A new gleam appeared. One of battle.

Schuldig obliquely tried to see around the heavyset woman that was talking to him. Her sequined, black-clad form obdurately denied him a peek of what had caught the elder Crawford's interest. However, it didn't take a genius to figure out what had caught the elder Crawford's attention, what had made the alpha male prime himself for battle.

Schuldig wasn't much of a student, but he understood human nature exceedingly well. What was a human, after all, but just an animal underneath the civilized veneer? Senator Crawford was the dominant lion of this artificial, opulent Serengeti. He ruled it, a confident, relaxed beast moving about his territory. Only one thing could have stirred the fire of combat, made the hackles rise. A threat to his crown. And an alpha male's biggest threat was always his younger, stronger, swifter male offspring.

Sure enough, Schuldig got a glimpse of Brad making his way across the room towards him. Only his pre-cognition prevented him from getting ambushed by his father. Schuldig saw the golden eyes flash, then cool as a professional mask slipped into place. Crawford turned to greet his father. "Senator."

"Bradley!" The greeting sounded hearty, cheerful. Gold met gold as the two locked gazes, trying to stare the other down. "Good to see you could make it, son."

"I couldn't disappoint Mother."

Schuldig watched the interplay with interest. The two were very much alike. He wondered if Crawford knew just how much. They were of similar height, coloring. The way the elder Crawford stood and his cool, knowing smile reminded Schuldig of Crawford at his most 'Crawford.' This was the template for Crawford. Now Schuldig understood why Brad insisted on being called Crawford, especially on assignment. He was emulating his father. Yet it was obvious he held little affection for the man.

Did that mean that Crawford had a schism in his persona, a 'Crawford' side and a 'Brad' one? A flash of blue gave him his answer. With the skill of a long-experienced hostess, Claire Crawford had arrived to defuse the potentially scene-making situation. "David, I'm so glad you were able to get away from the office so early." She rose to give him a peck on the cheek which the senator automatically gave back. The public persona slid back into place.

"Claire, you look ravishing," he murmured. He knew the show of affection to his wife would not go unnoticed. Brad's mouth twitched and his brows lowered as he watched the political display, a sham of affection for the benefit of potential voters. Claire spotted the dangerous tides rising and nipped it before the storm could break. With a last smile to her husband, she threaded her arm through her son's.

"Brad, you can catch up with your father later, over dinner sometime. Why don't you come meet the Alvinas? They just moved here last year. . ." with a steady stream of determined chatter, she led Brad away, giving her husband a little wave. The elder Crawford didn't like being out-maneuvered. Schuldig could almost see the angry thoughts roil behind the man's pleasant expression, even without his telepathy, but the senator didn't contest it. Instead, he went to his lifeblood, working the room. Schuldig dismissed the elder Crawford as he watched the younger walk away with his mother.

Brad's face had softened. Schuldig wondered if Crawford knew how much his affection for his mother was apparent. This wasn't Crawford, now. It was Brad talking to his mother. Schuldig smiled at the jewel that he had uncovered. Crawford wasn't schizophrenic or afflicted with multiple personalities. But the two major facets of his personality were very clearly defined, and he kept them delineated with a word to describe the division. There was Crawford, the dominant side. The rest was not-Crawford, or Brad.

The fun now was to see if he could puzzle out the times that Crawford was Brad instead. Crawford was a man that he looked up to, respected and obeyed. Crawford was thrilling and dangerous, like a lion. Yet the heart of the man was named Brad. And that was what Schuldig really desired. He raised his glass to his lips to hide his smug smile. He was on the right track, he knew it. It was just a matter of chasing the prey to ground now. And Schuldig was a most talented hound, one of Esset's best. The best fox-chasers were, after all, those foxes that had been converted into hounds.

He watched Crawford raise his head, almost as if he were the telepath, not Schuldig, and stare coolly at him. It reminded Schuldig of the lions that he had seen in the zoo in Berlin when he had visited his grandmother as a young child. He toasted Crawford across the room and smiled cheekily. The fox-hound was smaller than the lion, but he had an advantage over the lion—the lion never would dream that he would be hunted.

Crawford gave Schuldig one last warning look before he bent his attention to his mother again. Schuldig had that look, that 'I'm up to something' look. Too bad his mother was dampening his foresight. He hadn't foreseen anything happening before they arrived, so he just had to cross his fingers and hope that future he had seen would hold true. He still wanted to know the reason for Schuldig's mischievous look. He sighed to himself. Well, whatever it was, he would handle it, one way or another.

----

In the cooling, concealing dark, a figure slipped out of the party, away from the noise and the mental stress. As if called, Vela appeared, cool fingers soothing away the incipient headache and relieving some of the strain.

After a long moment, the silence was broken by a whisper. "I don't know how much longer I can hide you, Vela."

"I understand. It is a lot to ask—"

"No, no, that's not it at all. He's. . . he's getting close. Too close. He was too interested in Dr. Lovani and Dr. Sutter for my comfort."

"I hope they'll be all right," Vela said. "Poor Rich, poor Xavier. And Tina! They were so young! How did it come to this? I'm so sorry it had to come to this for you."

"I am too. Damn that Esset! To send him. How can they use him that way, to hunt you and other innocents like you for not becoming one of them. It's just not fair. It's just not fair!" She balled up her fist. "Damn his father. I blame that bastard. I should have killed him years ago, before any of this happened and damned the consequences."

Vela grasped her hand. "No, don't think like that. If you had been arrested for his murder, we wouldn't have this moment now."

The hand that Vela clasped loosened and joined their fingers. "You're right. How could I ever have wished for that?"

Vela smiled, then sobered. "Be careful around that Aric Rudiger. He's really a very powerful telepath named Schuldig."

"You're a powerful telepath too."

"Not really. I'm an empath. Regardless, I'm passive anyway. He's an active telepath. Quite different. All I can do is receive. He can do more than that. So much more."

"I thought I felt something when I met him. What do we do, Vela? I can't lose you. You're the only thing keeping me sane." There was a short pause. "Maybe if you didn't spend so much of your energy on me—"

"No! No. It doesn't matter, in the end. I'm passive, remember? The best I would be able to do is stay a step ahead. Probably not even that. Esset sent their best."

"Their best. . . My son. . ."

"Hush, hush. It'll be all right," Vela soothed, stroking Claire Crawford's hair. "Open to me. Pass me your pain. I'm here for you."

----

A/N:

TrenchcoatMan: A Crawford-cat would have some nasty claws, wouldn't he?

Lyra Stormrider: Sorry to make you wait. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, though and always love to see your reviews.

SaraMichiru: Good to see a new face, we don't mind tardiness here. Thanks for your encouragement and nice words about OC and IC. Always appreciated.

Lestat197: Sorry you had to wait for more Schu-goodness. I promise I'll post in a more timely fashion from now on.

Lily: Schu vs Boston high society? My money's on Schu, even with the cipher-handicap.

CanIsay: Another newcomer. Hello, and thank you for dropping me a review. It's always gratifying to know that people are reading your stories.

Lonecayt: Thank you. I try to keep Schu's age in mind, as well as his experience. I thought that it would only make sense for him to seem younger than Crawford, but older than others his age.

Thekatgrl: Thanks for your praise on my writing style. I think all writers like hearing that. As for your review frequency, I'm just glad that you review at all!

Hisoka: Hello, good to see you with us. Always makes me smile to see you there. Hope you've ironed out some of your computer woes.

Precognition74: Crawford likes coffee. He just doesn't like Schuldig's coffee. He's picky, that one.