The Assassin's Salvation (Mandrake Company) Read Online Free Page B

“Originates down on one of those cloud cities, so I’m guessing someone knew you were heading this way. I tried to look up the person who posted it, but it went through an intermediary. Someone clever with the net might be able to find the person fronting the money. And once the person is identified…” Sergei flicked his hand in a lazy knife-throwing gesture, almost hoping Mandrake would ask him to deal with it. Sergei would need help uncovering the person behind it all, but it never bothered him, killing those rich enough to afford such luxuries as hit men. And he owed Mandrake a favor, a pile of them. It would be nice to pay at least one back someday. Also, in offering to take care of the shadow man, he hoped Mandrake would realize beyond a doubt that Sergei hadn’t come in an attempt to collect on that bounty himself.
    “Figured that might happen,” was all Mandrake said.
    “Been annoying people lately, have you?”
    “Killing finance lords.”
    Sergei let out a low whistle. Even he would think twice before taking a contract against someone so rich and powerful. “Mandrake Company never used to stick its neck out so blatantly.” He kept himself from asking if the woman might have had something to do with it, but he did glance toward the pretty hand towels.
    Mandrake’s eyes closed to slits.
    Sergei cleared his throat. “Like I was saying. I could help you deal with this problem.”
    “I can deal with my own problems.”
    Sergei hadn’t meant to imply that Mandrake couldn’t. He groped for a way to say he wanted to repay old favors without actually bringing up a past that wasn’t comfortable for either of them. Maybe levity would be a safer route. “’Course you can, Captain, but you always make such a bloody mess when you deal with your problems. People tend to notice that. Get pissed off, irked on behalf of the fallen as it were. I, on the other hand, can make a person disappear without attracting anyone’s notice. No notice, no certainty as to the party who handled the mission, no repercussions.”
    Mandrake didn’t say anything. Maybe there had been a little too much blunt truth in the words for them to be considered levity. Or maybe Sergei just wasn’t funny.
    A comm bleeped. Mandrake waved to answer it and responded with his name.
    “Thomlin here, sir. The message that Zharkov decoded is correct. ‘We are in trouble. Your assistance requested. We can pay.’”
    Mandrake’s jaw tightened. “Where’d the ship come from?”
    “Looks like it flew out of the largest continent down there, Ferago. The fighter originated somewhere else, though, another system probably. It was an old Fleet Viper, decommissioned at least twenty years ago.”
    “I recognized it.”
    “I don’t know where they got it, but it definitely came from Ferago. Looks like someone there wants to see you.”
    “Less so now than an hour ago, I’ll wager,” Mandrake said, as grim as a dagger.
    “I don’t know about that, sir. According to your Flipkens’s report and the video footage, that pilot knew that was likely to be a one-way trip for him.”
    “Comforting.” Mandrake’s tone said it wasn’t. He cut the comm.
    “Your Flipkens?” Sergei asked, then immediately wished he hadn’t. It was a knee-jerk reaction, him wanting to know why Mandrake apparently had some ownership over the young woman, when Sergei had gotten the impression she was working for Ankari and that their business was something mostly independent of Mandrake Company. It was silly, but the idea of anyone having some ownership over Jamie Flipkens bothered him. But Mandrake had more pressing concerns on his mind; it was foolish to say something.
    Mandrake grunted, not appearing offended. “The crew likes to remind me that all persons, equipment, and notions related to Microbacteriotherapy, Inc. are indeed my pet project and shouldn’t be allowed to interfere with regular company operations.”
    Micro-what? “Huh, I didn’t get all that from