Kris Longknife's Bloodhound, a novella Read Free

you.”
    “There is just one more matter, Princess.  One of my agents, Leslie Chu is a great fan of yours.  Is there any chance I might have your autograph?”
    “I have a fan club?” Kris said, not believing her ears.
    “It seems so,” the agent assured her. 
    Jack just shook his head.
    Kris found this almost as hard to accept as an Iteeche Death Ball appearing off her bow.  She’d adjusted to that; she could adjust to this.  “Is there any paper here?”
    “I can print out one of your pictures,” Nelly said, and the admiral’s desk began spitting out a print.  Kris took it from the printer, sat at the desk and found a pen.  She thought for a moment, signed it with a flourish, and then added. 
    “Sorry I missed you.”
    The agent allowed her another one of his hearty laughs and, with a solemn bow from the waist, turned to take his leave.
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 2
     
     
    Late the next morning, Senior Chief Agent in Charge Foile knocked at the front door of Nuu House.  The portico and wood carved door was either imposing or intimidating, depending on your perspective.
    Agent Foile considered it an interesting piece of history.
    From nowhere in particular a voice inquired, “Who may I say is calling?”
    “I am Taylor Foile, calling on General Trouble.”
    He’d considered his words carefully.  Intentionally, he’d dropped his official credentials.  He was on leave.  His boss had signed for a month off.  This was not bureau business.  And, having been tasked by Kris to meet and seek the help of the legend, it seemed appropriate to use the legend’s name.
    A long moment later, the door opened and Taylor found himself face to face with the legend himself.
    “General Trouble?”
    “Agent Foile, I presume.”
    “Please call me Taylor.  I’m on leave for the next month.”
    The legend raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing.
    Before the silence stretched, Taylor asked, “May I come in and is there any place we can talk in private?”
    “I assume you’d prefer someplace less intimidating than the room we last met in?”
    “Please.  You’re great-granddaughter Kris has asked me to talk with you.”
    The legend seemed to try to scowl, but there was too much of a grin for it to overcome.  “You have to watch out for that girl.  She’s trouble.”
    “Interesting, she gave me the same warning about you, sir.”
    “Then you’re twice warned,” the legend said, pointing Taylor to what the agent knew to be the library.  The legend led him to a pair of sofas, facing each other before a fireplace that was large enough to play cards in.
    On the table between them was a platter with some delicious looking confections as well as a coffee urn and a thermos of hot water. 
    “What would you like to drink?” the general asked.
    “Tea, please,” Taylor said.
    The general poured hot water into two delicately fine china cups of white with gold filigree and offered Taylor a box full of assorted teas.  Taylor chose Earl Gray and began to steep his tea with purpose.
    “So,” the general said, dipping his own tea bag of Earl Gray, “Where is Kris?”
    “You don’t know?”
    “I have many kids, grandkids, and more great-grandkids than I can hope to keep track of, considering that the last number keeps changing.  No great-great-grandkids.  That generation seems too busy to find time for kids.”  He paused to stare at nothing far away before adding.  “Their loss.”
    “I thought you had seen Kris only recently,” the agent found himself falling back into his professional form.
    The legend easily fell back into his own form.  He sipped his tea and gave away nothing.
    “Pardon me.  I shouldn’t have asked that,” Taylor said.  “I am on leave, but it seems I’m to have a busman’s holiday.”
    That eyebrow went up, again.
    Taylor took that for a nebulous question and attempted to answer some of it.  “Kris is, for the moment, safe on the Musashi battleship Mutsu .