The Administration Series (215 page)

Warrick wondered, for the first time, how much of his hostility towards Tarin stemmed from fear. The fear of putting himself and the people he loved in danger by getting too close to someone whose life span was dictated by his usefulness to Int-Sec. Safer to stay back, as far from danger as was practicable, and to cultivate a dislike based on anything he could find.

"I'm sorry I punched you that New Year," Warrick said.

"What?" Not surprisingly, Tarin looked bemused by the non sequitur.

"I punched you one New Year. You must remember. I was telling everyone about founding SimTech and you said I was still whoring for the Administration, and that the sim would end up as just another tool for oppression."

"So that's what it was. Sounds like the kind of bloody stupid thing I say when I'm drunk." Tarin rubbed his jaw. "All I remember is lying on my back and noticing that you really do see stars."

"Well, I'm sorry."

"Forget it. It was a damn good punch."

"I cracked a knuckle. Hurt like hell."

"I wondered why you never did it again."

He laughed. "That wasn't the reason. I think Jen would've strangled me if I'd done it twice." On an impulse, he said, "You should come and see me."

"What?"

"Come and stay at the flat for a weekend. When it's all over and everything's back to normal, and Dilly's back from Mars. You can bring Val; we'll take her to the zoo, that kind of thing. I'm sure we can manage not to talk politics for one weekend. I'll keep Toreth out of the way — you won't have to see him."

Tarin thought it over for a while, then nodded. "Okay. Yes. Thanks. Val would be delighted." He leaned his head back against the wall. "She loves her uncle Keir."

"She's a wonderful girl," he said, glad to have finally found a topic where he could tell the unreserved truth.

Tarin smiled, looking genuinely pleased. "Yes. She is. I expect every parent thinks the same, but she's special."

"Very special. And I'm very fond of her. She's in my will, you know. Actually, you probably don't know — I should've told you. In fact, I should've asked you before I did it. Sorry."

"It's your money, you can do whatever you damn well please with it." Tarin shrugged. "If I haven't brought her up well enough to use it properly, that's my fault. But it's kind of you to think of her."

"Not at all. And not, I hope, that it's going to matter for a good long time yet. But I like to know that it's all settled, just in case it does. She gets a third of more or less everything. And a third goes to Dilly."

Tarin's eyes narrowed. "And a third to him?"

"A third to Toreth, yes. He has no idea and I'd be grateful if you didn't say anything."

"I can't imagine I'm ever going to speak to the man." Tarin stood up and collected the mugs and plates. "I should call Philly and see how Val is."

"Don't mention that I'm here."

Tarin looked at him, frowning, then nodded. "Of course. If you didn't get my messages . . . "

"It's probably nothing. The comm net is still hiccupping. But it's best, just in case. Toreth took a risk to tell me about it, a serious personal risk. I wouldn't want it to backfire on him."

"All right." Tarin paused in the doorway. "Val loved him, you know. When you brought him here that New Year, she thought he was wonderful. Mother likes him too — more than she's ever liked poor Philly, anyway." He shook his head. "I love Val, more than anything, and I'd kill anyone who hurt her, but sometimes I think we made a terrible mistake, applying to have her. When a job like his can exist . . . it's no sort of a world to bring kids into, is it?"

Before Warrick could think of an answer, he had gone.

It took another twenty minutes until Warrick found something. Not much — a contact number that didn't crosscheck to anything in the directories, which meant either it had been disconnected, or the name wasn't real. Since all the other numbers Kate had stored were current, he decided that the latter was at least a possibility.

It wasn't much, but it was all he had so far, and all he was likely to find without more power to apply to the problem. He would have to take the memory back to SimTech after all.

Before he left, he sent a message to the number, from the house comm, saying nothing more than that Kate was in danger and required immediate assistance. Then he warned Tarin to leave, and left himself, back to the city and SimTech.

Toreth had managed to get hold of a gun from the armoury, and he had it in his hands, not in the holster. Bevan stood by the door, also armed. It felt like overkill, but however much of an idiot Chevril could be, he was a trained para, and Toreth had made absolutely clear to him the consequences of fucking this up.

Toreth sat watching Chevril, out of line of sight of the comm. He fingered the gun nervously. Things could go wrong in so many ways: if Chevril fucked it up, if Carnac didn't buy it, if Carnac had another insider they didn't know about, if this was all just part of Carnac's plan —

"How long, Chev?" He tried not to sound impatient.

"He said about nine, still. That's all he told me, still."

"Fuck." What if Carnac suspected already? "Those Service knuckle-draggers could be back any time. Bevan, find Belkin and — "

"Wait! It's him."

Toreth shut up and watched a second screen, set up by Bevan. Carnac's face appeared on it, and Toreth had a momentary, stupid thrill that he could see Carnac but the socioanalyst couldn't see him. Things were desperate if that tiny advantage could feel important.

"Do you have progress to report?" Carnac asked.

"Yes. Everything's going fine. Or at least, it's all going how you wanted it." Chevril sounded sour, like someone regretting what they'd done. Well, if that was what he thought would work.

"Good. The systems are restored?"

"Not yet. He had them put in some security blocks, and it's taking the techs a while to undo it all. I can't guarantee it'll be finished tonight."

"When?"

Chevril shrugged. "You know what techs are."

"I neither know nor care.
When
?" Chevril hesitated, and Carnac added, "Will it be ready by lunchtime tomorrow?"

Toreth breathed a silent sigh of relief. That was a risk they'd agreed to take, because they desperately needed at least a hint as to when the inspection would start.

Chevril nodded. "Oh, yeah. First thing tomorrow morning at the absolute latest, they said. Although you know what — "

"Yes, yes. Very well. Everything else has been returned to the status quo? Toreth has given all the other orders?"

Don't look at me, Toreth willed him.

Chevril's eyes didn't even flicker from the screen. "Yes."

"Excellent. Thank you for your good work. I shall —"

"Carnac, I want out," Chevril said, interrupting him.

What the fuck? Toreth glanced across at Bevan, who merely shrugged.

Carnac appeared surprised — or possibly like someone trying to seem so. "I beg your pardon?"

"I want out. Please. Let me go. Let me get clear before they suspect something. They will, as soon as it's obvious Doral wasn't the only one. And Toreth isn't going to be that bloody forgiving with me." Unquestionably realistic fear crept into his voice. "I'm dead if he finds out."

Carnac's expression hardened. "Believe me, you are dead if you attempt to run. There is no need to worry about Toreth. Stay where you are, and I promise that everything will work out as predicted. I will require your help for a while longer."

"No. I . . . " Chevril hesitated, doing an excellent impression of a man who has run out of options. "Okay. Yes, okay. But don't forget, we have a deal."

"Of course we do. I will call again in the morning before I arrive — eight am precisely. Don't miss it." Carnac smiled. "And take care."

The link cut out and Chevril slumped forward onto the desk, his head in his arms. "Jesus bloody Christ. Next time do you think you could just shoot me?"

Tempting. "What the fuck was all that about?" Toreth asked, as levelly as he could.

Chevril looked up. "I was trying to act naturally, as per bloody instructions. And naturally, I want to get the hell out of here. But he made it pretty bloody clear what he thought about that."

"I always said you were a prat." Bevan spoke for the first time. He'd been, or so he claimed, unsurprised at Chevril's defection. "There was never any fucking chance the bastard would let you go."

"Yes, I know that now." Chevril shook his head. "I've said I'm sorry, what more do you bloody want?"

"It doesn't matter. All for the best, as it turned out." Toreth stood up, putting the gun away. Thinking about what Carnac had said. "He's going to lock us up. Me at least, probably Sara too."

Bevan nodded. "That's my guess. Me too, do you think?"

"I don't know — could go either way. You weren't at the meeting and I deliberately didn't mention you, so Doral might not've known you were involved. Carnac could guess, though."

"What?" Chevril looked between them. "How do you work all that out?"

Toreth unbelted the holster. "You told him I'd given all the orders — that means time's up, whatever he said this morning about giving me until tomorrow. He'd be stupid to leave me loose now, in case I try to change it back. And whatever he is, he certainly isn't that."

"So where does that leave me?" Chevril asked.

"In charge of the other paras, until I get out tomorrow." He handed the gun to Chevril. It made a nice gesture, although he'd have had to dump it anyway before the guards arrived. "Don't fuck it up this time, will you?"

Chevril shook his head. "I won't. I promise."

"I trust you."

Bevan, turning away, gave him a frankly disbelieving look. He was right, of course. Toreth didn't trust Chevril, but then neither did he have much of a choice in the matter.

As he'd expected, they were waiting for them in his office: five troopers and three I&I guards. Flattering headcount, anyway. Sara was still in the office, perched on the edge of his desk and looking pale. When she saw him, she closed her eyes briefly — he couldn't tell if she was relieved to see him, or if she'd hoped he would've heard about it and run.

He surveyed the group — obviously handpicked by Carnac, and not a trace of reluctance on any of their faces for the job in hand.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

One of the troopers stepped forwards. "Yes, sir. If you and Ms Lovelady would accompany us, please. Socioanalyst Carnac's orders."

"What orders?"

"Protective custody, sir." Behind the troopers he saw one of the guards smirk, pulling out handcuffs.

Toreth nodded. "Get on with it, then."

He thought the escort was overkill, until they tried to cuff Sara. As the guard reached for her wrist, she slid off the desk and bolted for the door. He caught her reflexively — stopping a fleeing prisoner — and by the time he let her go the guards had hold of her.

"Toreth!" Her eyes were wide and desperate. "Stop them. Please — Toreth!"

It took three of them to restrain her and get the cuffs on with unnecessary, unprofessional force, and with her screaming his name the whole time. He made himself stand and watch, because there were still the five troopers, waiting for him to try something. He concentrated on the guards, remembering faces. Sara squealed as one of them twisted her wrist viciously, finally locking the cuff closed around it.

The bastard was dead, as soon as he found out his name and address. Dead. Dead in an alley. He'd fucking scream by the time Toreth was finished with him.

Then it was done, and they moved on to him. Cuffing his hands in front of him, as they'd done to Sara, which was a small mercy. He submitted without resistance, and followed the troopers out of the room.

All the way down to the cells, he struggled to stay calm and react logically. He'd done everything he could with regards to the inspection. Chevril wasn't the ideal man to keep things going, but with luck there was Bevan to watch him and the head of security would know exactly what had happened as soon as they passed an active camera.

Carnac was doing this to wind him up. It was impossible that he didn't know what effect it would have on Sara — that was why he'd sent so many people. There was no point making a fuss over it. She'd be fine. She'd have to be fine because they didn't have any choice. She —

They stopped outside a cell and Toreth turned to the trooper who'd spoken in the office. "Put us together, please."

"We have orders to accommodate you separately."

"I don't fucking — " He took a deep breath, wishing suddenly that Payne was there. He looked more closely at the man's uniform. "Does it matter if we're together, uh, Sergeant? Look at her. She's terrified already."

Sara had gone past crying or fighting. She stared blankly down at the handcuffs on her wrists, her lips moving silently from time to time.

"Look at her," Toreth repeated. "Lock her in there all night on her own, she'll be a wreck by morning. Eleven hours in the dark. Doesn't seem very protective to me."

Eventually, the sergeant nodded. "Put them in together."

The cell lights switched on as they entered. They had five minutes until they went off again automatically, and then it would be dark until the morning. He'd hoped they'd remove the cuffs but, naturally, they hadn't. More of Carnac's orders, no doubt.

Single occupancy cell — he looked round, getting a fix on the water, the toilet. Then he sat down on the narrow bed and turned his attention to Sara, standing where the guards had left her. He had to have her coherent and useful tomorrow. Whatever personal kick Carnac might be getting out of tormenting Sara was purely incidental to depriving Toreth of badly needed support.

He beckoned her over, getting the response he expected, which was none. "Sara, come here."

Better if she came on her own, but he'd drag her over if he had to, because he wasn't chasing her round the bloody cell in the dark.

"Sara. Here. Now."

She looked up, staring right through him. She seemed to understand him, however, because after a few seconds she nodded and approached slowly.