The cub flopped onto her back, the pale silver fur of her belly exposed.
“I’m not sure if that means you give up or you want a belly rub. If you were my mom’s golden retriever, I’d be positive it was the latter.”
“Merow.”
“That explains much, thanks.”
A little wary, since all of those claw-filled paws were in the air now, I stroked the soft fur of her belly. She didn’t object. The tail, which, like her feet, was too large for the current size of her body, spilled over the edge of the seat. After a few more strokes, I lifted the tail and scooted it and the rest of her body into the backpack. She allowed me to do it but promptly started nibbling on the edge.
“Just don’t eat the bottom open while you’re inside. From what I remember of this building, the floors are tile. Not cushy if you fall onto your butt on them.”
“Merow.”
“It’s your call.”
As I hefted the load onto my back and headed for the unmarked door to the army offices, it occurred to me that I’d become one of those people who had conversations with their pets. Too bad the cub didn’t speak back in a language I could translate—out of curiosity, I’d already tried activating my charm—because I had a feeling she had seen what happened to Michael. And obviously, she had seen how she’d come to be on his boat in the first place.
“Need to find a telepath,” I muttered.
If I couldn’t get the notes translated, that would be my next step. A lot of the magical races had telepathic talents, though elves were the only ones I knew for certain could communicate with animals. Unfortunately, the elves and dwarves that had once had encampments on Earth had all left our world for reasons unknown shortly before I’d been born. According to my mother, my father had been among them, and he’d never returned. The odds of me meeting him or any other elf were low.
Since this army unit didn’t officially exist, there wasn’t an MP or any kind of guard to check my ID and decide if I was worthy enough to enter. That was good because I didn’t have an appointment. It had been too late the night before to call, and it was probably still too early to do so.
At the first intersection, I hung a right and headed to Hobbs’s office. When I’d worked with him in the past, I’d always found him in the building by seven or eight, so I anticipated him being there now. He had an outer office with an assistant I’d have to get past, but if it was the same lieutenant that had worked there before, he thought my boobs were pretty amazing and always passed me through after flirting with me.
But the outer office was empty when I reached it, the desk where the lieutenant had worked devoid of files or even a phone. Maybe Hobbs had gotten rid of his assistant.
I passed through and knocked on the metal frame of the door to his office. It was ajar, and I heard someone typing inside.
“What?” a woman inside asked.
Maybe Hobbs wasn’t in yet after all or was doing something in another part of the building. If he’d gotten a new female assistant, she might be less interested in my boobs—and less likely to let me see her boss without an appointment.
“It’s Val Thorvald. I’m looking for Hobbs.” I pushed the door open.
A brown-skinned woman with hard eyes and short, wiry salt-and-pepper hair glared at me from behind a computer at the desk. She had a stocky build, a strong jaw, and a dyspeptic expression that immediately reminded me of the drill sergeant I’d had in Basic Training who’d called me Barbie and tormented me at every opportunity.
“Colonel Hobbs PCSed to Fort Bragg three months ago.” Ugh, she even had the same Southern accent as my former drill-sergeant tormenter. “I trust there’s no need to ask if you have an appointment.”
“No, but I used to do work for him, and I was hoping for a favor.”
“What kind of work?” She eyed my boots, jeans, and duster with the same disdain as Julie had. She didn’t have any magical blood, so she didn’t see my weapons, but her gaze snagged on the backpack. “And what is that?”
“I was hoping someone here would know, but I’m calling her a magical tiger for now.” I turned so the cub’s head was visible sticking out of the pack. In the bright office lighting, her silver glow was less noticeable, but her coloring alone ought to prove she was something unique. “I also need some notes translated.”
“By all means.” The woman—the name tag sewn on her chest said WILLARD, and her collar tabs denoted her a colonel in Military Intelligence—gestured expansively. “Come in, come in. We love to do research work for civilians who walk in off the street unannounced. And maybe I could get you some coffee while you’re here. Cream? Sugar?” Her eyes narrowed. “Lumps?”
“I don’t drink coffee.” And I suspected she meant lumps on my head, delivered by a baseball bat, not lumps of sugar.
“I knew you were a heathen as soon as you walked in.”
“Uh.” Was that a joke? There was no humor in her eyes, nor did the corners of her mouth quirk upward. “I like sparkling water.”
“How fabulous for you. What did you say your name was? Thorvald? Why does that sound familiar?” She turned to the computer, clicked the mouse a few times, and typed something in. Ignoring me utterly, she leaned back in her chair and started reading.
I had a feeling she was reading my military record and whatever notes Hobbs had left about me. It was also possible she wanted to know who was ranting about what political thing today on Facebook, but I doubted it.
Nibbling sounds came from behind my ear, and the cub shifted against my back. Getting into a better position to demolish the backpack, I imagined.
The phone rang.
“This is Colonel Willard,” she answered.
A man on the other end spoke for quite a while. My hearing was better than average, but the nibbling sounds in my ear kept me from catching everything. I did pick out Russian, trolls, smugglers, and caviar. And finally, Thorvald.
“Funny,” Willard said, eyeing me with open suspicion. “She just strolled into my office.”
Something about her glare made me feel like I was in trouble. I shouldn’t be. I’d stuck around the night before to tell the police what had happened, and they’d politely taken Julie’s information on her missing brother. Since I had, however inadvertently, busted up what had been a handoff between smugglers and buyers, they hadn’t been inclined to give me grief. As I’d suspected, none of them had been broken up over the deaths of the ogre and troll. Other ogres and trolls might learn that I had been responsible and take action against me, but the local law shouldn’t.
“I’ll have my people do some research and let you know what I can find out.” Willard hung up, leaned back in her chair again, folded her arms over her chest, and stared at me. “Valmeyjar Thorvald, freelance assassin.”
“Colonel Willard, occupier of Hobbs’s desk.”
I felt a little betrayed that Hobbs hadn’t let me know he was leaving. We hadn’t been close, but I’d done dozens of jobs for him in the years he’d been stationed here, and the army pay had allowed me to comfortably cover my bills and my apartment in Ballard. As in the rest of the Seattle area, the rent was a fortune, something I’d noticed even more since I hadn’t had any of those army contracts lately.
“According to the police, you took it into your own hands to kill a troll and an ogre smuggler last night.”
“I defended myself when they attacked me.”
“You defended yourself with deadly force.”
“It’s a funny thing, but harmless force doesn’t work real well on ogres.” The smart part of my brain suggested that I shouldn’t irk Willard, since she was potentially a source of work, but I didn’t always listen to it. Besides, I had a feeling she’d already made her mind up about me and that ass-kissing wouldn’t work. “Hobbs knew that. He used to hire me to handle things your mundane human agents couldn’t.”
“My mundane human agents are capable of handling a great deal.”
“I’m strong, agile, quick, and I heal fast. I also have a giant magical sword that can cleave the balls off an irate ogre.”
“Is that what you went to the docks to do last night?”
“Not until I found out that ogres were involved in my friend going missing. Any chance you have information on Michael Kwon?”
“No.” Her mulish expression suggested she would never have information of any kind for me.
Damn it. I could do research on my own, but she had a whole staff of intelligence agents at her fingertips.
“He used to be in the army, and now he’s missing.” I tried to keep my tone reasonable. “The army’s supposed to look after its own. Even if you don’t want to help me, won’t you help him? All I’m asking for is information you might hear about his disappearance. And to see if someone here can translate these notes.”
I drew them from my pocket, opened them, and laid them on her desk. Maybe if she saw them, she would be intrigued.
Willard glanced at them and typed into her computer again. Michael’s name.
“It’s Korean,” I said and spelled out, “K-W-O-N,” to make sure she got it right.
“Thanks so much. I would have guessed it was the Ethiopian spelling.”
“I’m here to help.”
“Is that what you told the ogres when you arrived?”
“No.” I clenched my jaw to keep from saying anything else, but I was one more snarky comment away from grabbing the notes and walking out. I didn’t need this crap. Maybe Nin, the woman who’d crafted Fezzik, knew someone who could translate these languages.
“How long has Kwon been missing?” Willard grabbed the notes and walked out of the office.
I almost lunged after her to get them back, but the cub tugged on my braid with her teeth and distracted me.
“Not a toy,” I grumbled, pulling it over my shoulder.