The two head bodyguards nodded gravely and exited Renée Iacaruso's office, keeping their objections to themselves. The manor's mistress was benign in general, allowing them almost all the privileges she had around the mansion, but dangerous in her disturbed mood. And he had finally sent them out, today, on the mission she had planned for months - a plan that neither Daz nor Matt had expected to come to fruition.
But now it had. And as the guards learned after only five years of working for Ms. Iacaruso, there was little that could be done about it.
"That woman's insane," Matt grumbled, as soon as the pair was out of earshot, "It can't be done. The police are going to find out."
"Not if we do it properly." Daz, the more experienced of the two, strapped his gun to a pack tightly gripping his chest. He smiled a little sadly as he pulled on a pair of boots, glancing over his partner as though to reassure himself. "Besides, we can't be blamed for it. It's still Ms. Renée's fault."
"Even though we're her accomplices?" Matt replied doubtfully, shrugging suddenly as the backpack he carried began to slide down his shoulders. He let go of his doubts - those thoughts did nothing but get in his job's way - as he juggled the straps, finally securing them around his waist in a figure like a cross. There was no point in looking back, when there was no way out anyways. "They're just kids."
And so was Ms. Renée. She acted like a grown woman, but after all these years, she still thought like a kid.
"Show me the charts, Matt. And go wake up the others."
* * *
As the taillights of the guards' car were swallowed up by the horizon, Renée turned from the window to look up at her butler, Rose. The house staff had been busy for hours, preparing rooms for the guests and a midnight snack in case the capture had shaken them a little. But Rose had stayed by her side the entire time, commanding everything flawlessly from the office. It was marvelous - the way he seemed to have eyes and hands everywhere, without even having to move.
"They'll be back in five hours," Renée repeated, looking at her watch. The sense of time, the sense of consistency was very important. "Then you'll meet them in the downstairs foyer and explain the rules of the game to them. Dinner will be next - I'll entrust the menu to you. After dinner, you'll have the servants escort the players to their room, and attend to any of their needs. Please, Rose. See that this goes smoothly."
The butler frowned and smoothed the silk tablecloth that covered Renée's desk. "You won't meet them yourself?"
Renée paused and answered stiffly. "No, thank you."
Rose sighed and took the seat across from her, suddenly more like a friend than a butler.
"If you're to do something of this sort, at least face the consequences. You can't kill people and paint yourself innocent by staying far away."
"That was not my intention. I acknowledge my guilt." Renée paused, at a loss for what to say next - a frequent affliction of hers. Tapping his fingers together under his chin, Rose leaned forward. "Read me their names one more time, please. I claim responsibility for all of them."
"Will you stop, then?"
Renée looked at him through another long silence. His face was impossible to read - nothing special, as all faces were impossible to see for Renée - but his mouth looked sad.
"No, thank you."
The butler pushed back his hair and cleared his throat before beginning. "Deme Ashling."
The pianist, whose sexuality had seemed invisible to all but the most talented information seekers - though the clues were obvious, clear enough for anyone to see. She didn't have any problem with his sexuality - that was something for science to judge, not morality. Still, Renée felt a familiar anger as she heard the kid's name. It had been the drugs and alcohol that drew her to this boy first. A child who had succumbed too easily to temptation,. He thought his life had been hard? Surely hers had been harder.
Yes, Ashling had to be eliminated - but his music was lovely. Perhaps he could play for all of them, one night after dinner. To take their minds off of the game for a while.
"I believe I sent Linde to get him."
Rose nodded and moved down the alphabetized list. "Koray Chandel."
Ouch. The broken prodigy. Renée had kept her eyes on that mission - a space expedition of teenagers - investing in it as soon as it began to gain a public following. She had sold her stocks just a day before the launch, when the anticipation and the money were at their highest, but hadn't expected to pull Koray from it as well. But when the child began to show symptoms of frustration, she had almost demanded him. Wasn't he stupid, to just break down like that? Even if the mission had failed, there was still opportunity to be had. Someone might have hired him as a guest speaker - on motivation and such things.
"Yes. Ling's target."
"Yes. Linde Corett?"
"George, please."
She spent the rest of the evening memorizing the names of her targets, their known mannerisms, and the men and women who had been sent to get them. Still, there was no point in meeting them - Rose sighed, as she said it again. Why would she need to see them, when at least one of them was doomed, anyway?
((See the list of bodyguards here. If you want to write out your own kidnapping, go ahead - or you can start when they all return to the manor.))