Stiletto (60 page)

At least, that was how it appeared. Although Odette doubted that the woman had come to this situation late in life. For one thing, the two halves of her were separated by about four centimeters of empty space and were contained in a business suit. For another, she seemed entirely unconcerned by her situation.

Be cool,
Odette thought.
Don’t stare at her.
She could see the gap only down to where it vanished into the woman’s collar. She took a cautious step sideways so that she could see into the gap.
Huh, fascinating.
The inside surfaces of each half of her head, where Odette might have expected to see a cross section of brain and other head matter, was covered in tight, smooth skin.
Does that gap go all the way down? How does she hold together? How does she walk? And what about the connection between the two hemispheres of her brain? And her spine? And her bowels?
Pawn Camden’s eyes blinked in unison, she smiled like one person, and when she spoke, both half-mouths moved simultaneously, producing a strangely choral effect.

“How’s the prisoner?” asked Rook Thomas, looking over the file Pawn Camden had handed her.

“Sleeping like a comatose baby,” said both halves of Pawn Camden. “Pawn Motha said he was clear of any booby traps —”

“Oh, good, I feel so much safer,” muttered Clements.

“— and we’ve scanned him, done MRIs and x-rays, taken photos and samples. He was deadly still for all of them.”

“So... vegetative state?” asked the Rook.

“There have been a few little blips, actually,” said Pawn Camden. “Three times, his brain has fired up again, and he’s opened his eyes and looked around. The third time, he just rolled over in bed and went back under.”

“That’s weird,” said Odette thoughtfully.

“This is Odette Leliefeld,” said the Rook absently.

“Oh,” said Pawn Camden, “with the Graf —” She broke off, having turned her head toward Odette and then flinched, which Odette thought was pretty rich. “The, uh, Brotherhood of Scientific Scientists.” Odette looked down at her feet, but then guilty fascination dragged her eyes up to the divided woman once again. “It’s delightful to meet you,” said the Pawn unconvincingly.

“You too,” said Odette, equally unconvincingly.

“And this is Pawn Clements,” said Thomas. The two women nodded to each other. “So anything else I need to know about this guy?” asked the Rook.

“We’re not having any luck mapping his DNA.”

“So he’s not in any of the databases?” said Thomas.

“It’s not that,” said Pawn Camden. “The results are odd. Apparently there are gaps in the code, and the films seem almost, I don’t know, smeared.”

“Huh,” said the Rook. She passed the file over to Odette. “Thoughts?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Odette as she scanned the material. “Very odd.”

“I gather from our scientists that we’ve never seen it either,” said Pawn Camden. “Not in any Checquy personnel, not in any manifestations.”

“And the other attackers didn’t have this issue?” asked the Rook.

“No. Standard DNA.”

“But this guy was the normal one among them. No implants, no modifications. What does that mean?” mused the Rook.

“Do we need to worry about his unleashing any powers or anything?” asked Clements.

“The cell is very secure, with all the standard immobilization measures, and we’re not getting any odd readings” the bisected Pawn said with a shrug. “He hasn’t disconnected any of the monitor sensors. Right now, he’s comatose. Dr. Crisp is scheduled to see what he can do this afternoon, but I’m afraid we’re not at all prepared for you. The prisoner is still in his cell, Dr. Crisp is out to lunch, and we haven’t hosed down the interrogation room yet or gotten the buffet ready for the observation roo —”

“Don’t worry, Pawn Camden,” Rook Thomas reassured her. “This isn’t some snap inspection. I just want to have a quick look at the prisoner. Is he restrained?”

“No. We thought about it, but he’s evinced no sign of any special abilities, and they didn’t find any trace of Grafter implants in him. He’s behind unbreakable glass, but he’s just in a bed hooked up to monitors,” said Pawn Camden. “If you want to give us a few minutes, we could put him into stocks, or maybe decant him into an oubliette.”

“No, I think that’ll be fine,” said the Rook. “Is he gagged?”

“No, but the cell is soundproof except through the intercom. We’re keeping an eye on him and recording everything with cameras and microphones. But orders from Clovis were to keep him isolated.”

Of course,
thought Odette.
Can’t have word getting out that one of the Grafters tried to kill the Rook.

“Excellent, Juniper,” said Rook Thomas. “Please take us to the observation room.” The woman nodded and guided the three of them to a small wood-paneled room with a red chaise longue in the center. One of the walls was glass, and on the other side of it was the cell with the blond man lying in a hospital bed.

“Rook Thomas, here is the control board for the cell,” said Pawn Camden, handing her a tablet computer. “It’s all very simple. If you wish to activate the intercom or make the glass transparent so that the subject can see you, just use this. And of course, if there are any problems, you can call one of us with the button by the door.”

“Thanks, Pawn Camden,” said Rook Thomas. The Pawn nodded her half-heads and left the room.

“That was the most insane thing I’ve ever seen!” Odette burst out, still reeling from the scientific impossibility. Pawn Clements made a little sniffing sound, which Odette decided to ignore. “What on earth happened to that woman?”

“She was born like that,” said Rook Thomas, taking the file back from Odette. “She’s very nice. Paints gorgeous landscapes; I went to the opening of one of her shows a couple weeks ago.”

“Is — is she actually in two pieces?”

“Yes,” said the Rook distractedly as she flipped through the file.

“But how does she not fall apart? Or
die?
”

“I believe it’s something to do with magnets,” said the Rook with an obvious and, to Odette, astounding lack of concern.

“Magnets?” repeated Odette. “I don’t think that can be right.” The Rook shrugged. “So how does she go out in the world?”

“A burka,” said Rook Thomas. “They’re tremendously handy. Lots of our more unorthodox-looking staff wear them.” Odette stared at her. “Okay, now, you and Pawn Clements sit there,” said the Rook, pointing toward the chaise. “And shut up for a little bit.” The two women looked at each other but sat down. Odette’s gaze wandered to the adjoining cell.

In contrast to the dark paneling of the observation room, the prison cell was a bright white, not unlike the surgical rooms that she had visited earlier. The only furniture was a hospital bed containing the prisoner. He was curled up, his face buried in the crook of an arm. Various cords had been affixed to his body at strategic points on his head and chest, and they ran to locked cabinets against the back wall. The only movement seemed to come from his breathing, and Odette had to peer pretty carefully to catch even that.

The Rook, meanwhile, was eyeing the tablet computer. Finally, she pressed something on it. There was an audible click and they could hear the sound of breathing coming through the speakers. It was the prisoner.

“Can he hear us?” asked Pawn Clements uncertainly. The Rook shook her head.

“Can’t see us, can’t hear us,” she assured them. “Especially since he’s currently in a vegetative state, if I’m interpreting these readouts correctly.” She held out the tablet to Odette, who took it and glanced over them.

“Comatose,” she agreed.

“Well, that’s disappointing,” said Thomas, taking the tablet back from Odette and giving her the file again. “I’m going to have a little sift through his physiology and maybe give him a jolt or two to see if that wakes him up. He seemed not to be a fan of mine, so I think a conversation between us might yield some details.”

Odette and Felicity sat quietly on the chaise, and Odette flipped through the file. The Checquy had done the usual battery of tests trying to come up with clues to his past, and they’d found nothing very interesting. His fingerprints hadn’t tripped any alarms in any databases. No sign of any inoculations, no old fractures. Uncircumcised. His wisdom teeth were intact, as were his tonsils. His appendix was burbling away comfortably. They hadn’t even found any incriminating calluses on his hands or feet.

“Interesting...” she muttered.

“What?” asked Clements.

“He’s had a vasectomy,” said Odette. “A recent one.”

“Yes, fascinating,” said Clements, edging away slightly.

“Could the two of you shut up, please?” said the Rook. She was leaning against the frame of the glass, her forehead resting on her arm. Presumably, she was reaching out with her powers, examining the prisoner’s internal structure, but it looked for all the world as if she were taking a little standing nap.

“Little Myfanwy,” said the prisoner suddenly, and Rook Thomas’s head jerked up in surprise. “I could feel your familiar touch, your little fingers sliding around inside my face.” He hadn’t looked up, but Odette could hear the smile in his voice. “And now you’re going down, probing in my chest and gut. I wonder, Rook Thomas, will you go even
farther
down? Find something interesting to play with and explore?” The Rook stepped back, her cheeks flaming.

“And now you’ve let go,” said the prisoner. “Too bad.” His voice was a little slurred, as if he’d been drinking.

Could he be one of the Antagonists?
wondered Odette.
His English accent is perfect, but all they’d need is a neurolinguistic patch, and there’d be no trace of a European accent.

The Rook looked down at the tablet in her hand. Her finger hovered, and then she pressed at something.

“You sound very calm about all this,” said Thomas, and the prisoner cocked his head a little. Obviously, she had switched on the intercom.

“Well, you know how it is,” he said. “You take your best shot, and if it doesn’t work out, weellll... there’s always another time, isn’t there?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Thomas. “I have to tell you, you’re not in good shape at all. I’m not sensing any Grafter additions inside your body, but there’s something very wrong with you. I can feel it in your flesh. I don’t think you’re going to have enough time to come after me and fuck me up. Plus, of course, you’re, well, in prison.”

“You never know, Myfanwy,” said the prisoner. “Things can change, just like
that,
” and he sat up and looked directly at the glass.

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Odette, almost falling off the chaise. Pawn Clements hissed in horror, and Rook Thomas took another couple of steps backward.

The hours since Odette had last seen him had not been at all kind to the prisoner. His face looked pretty much the same, but it was drooping, almost hanging off his skull. The skin of his scalp and neck was sagging too. The color seemed to be leaching out of his hair, clumps of which had fallen out. He was shirtless, and the skin of his chest was gray and mottled. Perspiration was pouring from him.

“Who’s that?” said the prisoner.

“That’s Odette,” said the Rook, and Odette looked at her incredulously. The Rook shrugged.

“Odette,” said the prisoner softly. “Right. You made the wrong choice, back in that hotel lobby in Paris.”

He
is
one of them!
Odette thought.
“Wie bent u?”
she asked intently.
Who are you?
Which of her friends was looking out from behind that mask of skin? Could it be Pim? What had he done to himself? He cocked his head and smirked when she spoke but didn’t say anything. He simply stared at the glass.

This doesn’t feel right,
she thought, staring at the man.
Too many things that don’t make sense. The accent I can explain, but they would never talk to me like that. I can’t see any of them putting on a different face and leading a team of thugs to assault a Checquy Rook. They don’t do hand-to-hand combat. And what is wrong with his skin?

“Well, apparently you don’t feel like saying anything useful,” said the Rook, “so we’ll chat a bit later. I can guarantee you’ll want to tell us everything.” She stared through the glass, waiting for a reaction, but nothing came. Then, suddenly, the man lurched out of bed and flung himself at the glass. The barrier didn’t shake, but the bang of his head against it echoed through the observation room. Rook Thomas flinched back in shock, bumping into Odette and Pawn Clements, on the chaise, who had, without thinking, clutched at each other.

“You want answers?”
screamed the man, his spit flying. His face was contorted, and he pressed himself against the glass so that his skin squashed and twisted alarmingly.
“The answer is, you’re going to die!”
He drew his head back and smashed it against the glass. The sound was terrible, stomach-turning.

Jesus,
thought Odette. All three of them were transfixed by the sight.

“Die!”
he screamed, smashing his head forward again. This time, the sagging skin of his forehead split, and blood stained the glass.

“DIE!

“DIE!”

And then he fell back, twitching, to the ground. The Rook warily put her hand against the glass and frowned. Suddenly, she exclaimed, “Hit the panic button! He’s damaged himself severely. I think he’s fractured his skull.”

“Not just that,” said Odette shakily. “Look at him.
Look!
” The man’s skin was fizzing and peeling away from his bones. As they watched, his pectoral muscles tore in several places and they saw his ribs melting like ice cream. His hair was a slick of slime, and his eyes were pouring out onto his face, which lay unchanged over his collapsing skull. She looked at Pawn Clements and Rook Thomas. Both of them were staring incredulously at the rotting mass on the floor. Then the Rook turned to Odette and Clements.

“I totally didn’t do that,” she said firmly.

“And here we are again,” said Ernst. “Are we actually awake this time?”