Kris Longknife's Bloodhound, a novella by Mike Shepherd Read Free Book Online Page A

chasing Kris Longknife for her father to the daughter charging him to get to the bottom of why the grandfather was so allergic to talking to his offspring.”
    “He popped Sarin gas in his own office and ran away, long dress hauled up to show his bare ass,” the woman snapped as Foile ended his story.
    “I was told about the Sarin and did not have the opportunity to observe him in full retreat,”
    “I would have done this just for just the pictures of that,” she said.  “Why are these logs suddenly so interesting to the old man?”
    “They may contain just how Kris Longknife managed to make long jumps.  Jumps of thousands of light years.”
    “Right.  I wondered how she managed to get there and back again before the onset of menopause.  And if he has read the method to her madness?”
    “He may dispatch a trade fleet full of all the best goodies we make to see if he can be more successful in opening negotiations with these aliens.”
    The lovely lady said another, nastier word.  “Some men just never understand that ‘no’ means ‘no’, and ‘no way in hell’ means ‘no, you can’t,’ really.”
    The two could easily agree on that.
    “Okay, if Trouble sent you, then he shares the same fear that Kris Longknife does.  You said you were on vacation.  I take that to mean that I can’t send a bill to that nice slush fund that the WBI usually pays me out of when they need my services.”
    “I doubt it.”
    “And if I am hauled in sporting handcuffs, no one is likely to loan me a key when no one is looking?”
    “If we succeed, there is likely to be a nice plaque attesting to the gratitude of a grateful nation.  Otherwise, we may both rot in jail for the rest of our lives.”
    “Which won’t be long, because the monsters will come and kill us all.”
    “I like working with an optimist,” Taylor said, smiling.
    She reached across the table and removed a small bit of lint from his coat and crushed it between her fingers.  “I wonder how long that has been there?” she said.
    “I have my standard issue bug detector in my pocket,” he said.
    “Standard issue,” she made sound like an even nastier word.
    “Has someone been listening in to our entire conversation?”
    “Of course not.  I squelched the transmitter on that puppy before I said hello.  I was wondering whether it might be worth my while to let you continue passing worthless stuff to whomever is interested in you.  I just decided I don’t want to.”
    “How long has it been there?” Taylor asked, not at all liking the taste in his mouth left by the idea of him being a pawn in someone else’s chase.
    “Hard to tell.  We can make them so tiny, but they still need power.  The smaller they are, the shorter the time they can transmit anything.  Then, of course, they might record and only send late at night.  Who knows.  Where have you been?”
    Which was an easy way for her to get a list of just who was playing in this game.  He tried to stay vague, but she got the gist.  “The Prime Minister’s residence is no big show.  They really need to hire me to clean up their act.  Nuu house is fine.  I check their security once a month.  Sooner if I think they need it.  The engineer you met up on the station.  What did her box look like?”
    Taylor used his fingers to give the measurements of the device.  “Pink with a light green button.  More than that, I cannot say.”
    “It sounds like a Private Eyes Only, which can mean nothing at all if you don’t actually set the thing up.”
    “She seemed security minded,” Taylor said.
    “We shall see.”  She rummaged in her purse, muttering softly to herself.  “No, not the compact, it would take too long to train the poor fellow.  Oh, right,” she said, and pulled a small ball from her purse.  Besides being round, it swirled with a rainbow of colors, ever changing, like a miniature gas giant planet.
    “Here, keep this in your pocket.”
    “What is it?”
    “A