The Administration Series (152 page)

"At the Acropolis?" Nikoletta sounded shocked. "You've never heard of the Parthenon Casino? It's famous. And great fun."

"How did they get away with putting a casino in the place?" B-C asked.

"Ah." Karteris grinned. "Back in the days of petroleum cars, the air pollution was destroying most of the ancient monuments. Some anonymous corporate offered to pay for the restoration and then protect the Acropolis with the dome. No one knows who it was — supposedly he was part of the Mars consortium. Anyway, the city thought great, someone looking for a tax write-off, so they accepted. Turned out they should have read the small print more carefully."

Nagra laughed. "And they couldn't get rid of it?"

"Allegedly there are still Administration lawyers going through the contract with a fine-tooth comb, trying to find a way out."

The dome entrance, while not an actual airlock, still stirred unpleasant memories of Toreth's mind-numbingly dull secondment on Mars. There, however, the boredom had been compounded by the installation being dry. The Acropolis dome was anything but.

They stopped at a small building that housed a reception and bar, where Karteris paused to set up an account for the evening. He returned with three large bags of casino chips, which he handed out to Toreth, B-C and Nagra. "Entertainment budget."

Toreth hefted the bag in his hand and debated, feeling the weight of expectant gazes too. If he refused the chips, then B-C and Nagra would feel obliged to do the same, and the last thing he wanted to do was piss off his entire investigative team of two.

"Thanks," he said.

After acquiring drinks, they set off across the historical paving, following in the footsteps of millions. The Parthenon itself, brilliantly lit, dominated the dome. Toreth had no idea which of the white buildings were original, which were restoration, and which had been added to provide modern conveniences for the casino. As everything was under the protection of the dome, collections of slot machines and lower stakes tables sprouted in groups on the Acropolis hill.

The scene which greeted them when they reached the Parthenon would, Toreth thought, have induced collective apoplexy in the original builders. Good thing they'd been dead for more than two and a half thousand years. Although it was relatively early on a week night, patrons already thronged between the massive pillars. The gaming tables were in marble — whether real or fake, Toreth couldn't tell — and the staff circulating with drinks wore ancient-style dress. The lights blazed back in reflection from the golden clothing of a vast statue of a woman with ornate helmet and shield, which dominated the far end of the room.

"Well," B-C said after a while. "At least they didn't knock it all down to fit in a bigger bar."

Karteris gestured vaguely towards the floodlit heights of the building. "A lot of it's restored, but they brought some original bits back from a museum at your end of the Administration, sometime soon after the bombs. Athens was lucky, you know, not being hit then. There's a screen somewhere with the official story — don't know where, though. Come on."

They moved into the crowd.

Gambling bored Toreth, but he adored casinos, especially the expensive ones. Few places in the world came with such a rich assortment of neglected spouses who were not only bored to tears but actively resenting the person who'd dragged them there. However, tonight they were all off limits.

He turned to Nikoletta and rattled the bag. "Would you like to help me spend these?"

She glanced at Karteris, who had apparently been distracted by something on the far side of the temple. "That'd be fun, thanks," she said.

If he had to gamble, Toreth didn't mind playing poker. However, it was only fun playing with people he knew, and it made for a poor spectator sport. They stuck to games where absolutely no skill was involved, betting small to make the generous expenses handout last even longer.

Toreth had his usual terrible luck. When the bag was half empty he handed it over to Nikoletta with a smile, and said, "Maybe you'll do better without me."

As he strolled off he caught sight of Karteris closing in to take his place.

Toreth wandered aimlessly for a while until he spotted B-C's blond crop through the crowd. He was seated at a blackjack table — not something Toreth would've suspected B-C of even knowing how to play. However, he seemed to be doing well enough. The neat stacks of chips in front of him looked to be more than double what Karteris had handed him at the start of the evening.

Nagra stood a little way away, watching.

"Not playing?" Toreth asked her in a low voice.

"Nope. My mother always said gambling was a tax on stupidity. And besides, I gave my stake to B-C."

"What the hell for?"

"We're not all on senior para salaries, you know. He's going to play for a while, then we're going to cash in what's left and keep it. He's counting cards," Nagra added confidentially.

Toreth snorted. "Or so he says."

"Well, he's winning, anyway." She frowned. "Except that he was supposed to quit if we ever made it fifteen percent up."

"Shall I get him away from there for you?"

Toreth moved to stand behind an empty chair opposite B-C, and waited until a brief break in the game, when the investigator looked up and caught his eye. As B-C nodded hello, Toreth smiled slowly, licked his bottom lip, and carefully mouthed, "Want to fuck?"

B-C flushed brick red, and for the five seconds it took him to realise what Toreth was up to, Toreth had never seen anyone appear so purely appalled. Then B-C looked down at the cards in front of him, over to the dealer's shoe, and shook his head.

Satisfied, Toreth strolled off to the bar and bought himself a cocktail that turned out to be fifty percent fruit salad. B-C joined him a couple of minutes later, his half of the winnings safely stowed in a bag with a print of a naked nymph, complete with friendly dolphin.

B-C sat down on the next stool. "You rotten bastard. Sir."

Toreth swirled the overloaded cocktail stick through his drink and sucked the cherry off the end. B-C coloured faintly again.

"Nagra told me you were supposed to stop at fifteen percent," Toreth said.

"Yes, but I was on a — " He paused, then nodded once. "No, she's right. Thanks, I suppose. You can buy me a drink, though, now I'm not playing. Lager."

Toreth grinned and beckoned the bartender over. After all, everything was on expenses.

"Where the hell did you learn to count cards?" he asked when B-C had his drink.

"I don't know if you remember, but when you had your six months on Mars, I got a secondment to Paris. While I was there, I went out with a girl who worked at one of the Atlantic coastal casinos in the summer."

"One of your interchangeable leggy blondes?"

B-C nodded, unruffled. "She showed me how to do it. Actually, it's a good way to keep your brain sharp, but the house always wins in the end, which makes it a bit expensive for me. So normally I do crosswords instead."

Sometimes Toreth couldn't tell whether B-C was joking or not.

They sat for a while, watching the crowd. Suddenly, B-C gestured with his glass and said, "Look over there, Para."

After a moment Toreth spotted Karteris and Nikoletta. It took him a moment longer to notice that Karteris's hand rested on his admin's backside as she leaned over a roulette table.

"Well done," Toreth said automatically.

"Para?"

"You just confirmed a theory for me." Either Nikoletta had a far more relaxed attitude towards personal space than Sara did, or Toreth had been spot on about their unprofessional relationship. One productive result of the evening, anyway.

By Wednesday afternoon, B-C had ruled out another theory too. Suicides and accidental deaths amongst citizens reported as potential reisisters were, if anything, slightly lower than Toreth might expect — it wasn't unknown for those who feared they were about to be arrested to take desperate measures to avoid interrogation. If Political Crimes were killing resisters out of hand, then they were doing so in a highly ineffective manner. Not that Toreth was willing to discount that possibility, given what he'd seen so far. However, they certainly weren't killing enough suspects to account for their poor conviction rate.

Surprisingly, Toreth found that discarding that idea didn't discourage him. Being able to look up and see familiar faces made him feel more confident of eventual success. A small part of New London had been transplanted here — people he could rely on.

That evening, at the hotel, the confidence proved justified when Nagra brought him the first interesting result.

"It may be nothing, Para, but I'd consider asking for another full credit and purchase. There were a few regular taxi drop-off points on the list, with nothing spent at the other end. Not in the nice parts of town, either. I tried bars at the end of the most popular two routes, and an alternate name cropped up a few times when I showed people Karteris's picture. Taki Papadamou. All the places he was known at had gambling, some more legal than others, and this Taki is well known as a big spender. Speaking of which, I blew the budget you gave me for bribes."

"No problem." Damn, that phrase was getting to be a habit. Had he used it before he came here? He had a feeling he had, but now it was annoying him. "And good work. Call it through to Sara for her to arrange the c&p on both names. Use a personal comm, not the hotel one. Tell her to keep it quiet. Very quiet."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

To celebrate the news, Toreth went for a dip before dinner. As he swam lengths in the fading light, he wondered where Warrick was, and whether Carnac was with him.

B-C and Nagra were at lunch, leaving the office quiet except for distant noises leaking dully through the door. Toreth closed the fourth daily report he'd received from Uche's detectives and looked out of the window over Athens basking in the spring sunshine. The report detailed Warrick's regular work schedule, nothing suspicious. Carnac had returned to his hotel after his day at SimTech and spent Wednesday evening alone in his room. Room service for one delivered at nine o'clock.

Toreth smiled and picked up his second lunchtime sandwich. The reports may have been pricey, but they had proved an excellent investment. He'd been stupid to worry about the idea. Maybe he should consider doing it more often. Warrick's trips to conferences might be a good starting point, when there would be no expensive socioanalyst bumping up the bill.

Or maybe not, because the undoubted satisfaction had an unpleasant aftertaste — an awareness of how pathetic this would look to an outsider. Sara would never let him live it down. Warrick would be horrified and livid. They'd both know that he spent his time fretting about what Warrick might be up to in Toreth's absence.

He'd call the agency from the hotel that evening and tell them to stop. After all, it was now Thursday — there had been three whole days with no action.

Of course, there was no way of telling what Warrick and Carnac had been up to in the sim. That wasn't a thought he liked, not least because he knew that Warrick would be able to say that nothing had happened with Carnac and believe it, because it was just work. Was there a way of getting hold of the sim schedule? At least that would show if the two of them had been in together. If they'd used any of the sex protocols, that would be recorded too.

He was wondering how it might be possible to retrieve the records when the comm chimed.

Warrick.

An irrational touch of guilt sharpened Toreth's voice. "What the hell do you want?"

"Well, firstly, to ask if your temper had improved since I saw you last." On the screen, Warrick's eyebrow lifted slightly. "However, the answer to that question is clearly no."

"If you just called to be fucking sarcastic, I've got work to do."

"No doubt. So I'll be brief. I thought I might come out to Athens at the weekend, if you have no objections."

Objections? "Fuck, no. I mean — yeah, sure, come. That'd be — " He caught hold of the enthusiasm and damped it down. "That'd be fine."

"Wonderful. I thought, if you don't have to be in the city itself, that I might book somewhere quiet for us."

Toreth smiled slowly. "Somewhere near a beach?"

Warrick's answering smile was positively mischievous. "The idea had crossed my mind, yes."

"So I can — " Toreth was about to elaborate on the possibilities when he remembered Nikoletta. Friendly she might be, but there was no reason to assume that she wasn't passing information on to Karteris. Or that Karteris himself wasn't listening. No need to spoil his virtuous image with overly graphic plans. "I can get the weekend off, no problem."

When Warrick had gone, Toreth sat, twirling the comm earpiece between his fingers and thinking about the surveillance. If Warrick was coming here, there couldn't possibly be anything going on. Unless there was, and the trip was designed to diffuse suspicion. Would Warrick think of that? Carnac probably would.

In the end, Toreth decided to wait. One more day. He could call the agency tomorrow and cancel the surveillance then. Maybe.