The Administration Series (218 page)

At the end of the visit, Toreth stood up in front of the inspection team and gave an impressive presentation about the changes he had implemented. To start with, he made a short but movingly scripted tribute to those I&I staff who had died or been injured in the recent unrest, although without implying that he blamed anyone present for the events, or even connected them in any way. The audience were duly mildly discomforted, and therefore made more receptive.

He explained the new interrogation protocols and restrictions, which would naturally have to be approved by the Administration in collaboration with his esteemed colleagues at Justice before they could become general practise throughout Europe. He spoke briefly about changes to the detention systems, making an oblique reference to how many of the division now had personal experience of the cells. He included a thoughtful section on the use of mood- and perception-altering drugs in interrogations, standards of evidence, and the interrogation of minors, all designed to leave the inspectors with a few mild ethical dilemmas to consider.

And, repeatedly, he made sure that all due credit was given to the real architect of the plans, the man sitting in the front row, his highly respected boss, Socioanalyst Carnac.

He spoke fluently and with confidence, and after every section he paused and caught Carnac's eye. At the end he told the audience that Carnac had been a pleasure to work with, and that it had been particularly impressive that an outsider could have such a thorough understanding of the workings and ethos of the Division. Then he took questions, and answered them smoothly, charmingly, and without hesitation.

It was a beautiful performance. The only thing Carnac couldn't understand was why Toreth had gone through with it when he knew the price. Obviously he believed that he wouldn't have to pay it — Toreth suddenly developing a self-sacrificing streak was about as probable as his giving up sex.

When the questions were over, the room broke up into small groups, a buzz of voices that made Carnac suddenly claustrophobic. People wanted to talk to him — everyone it seemed — and he felt himself start to sweat.

As soon as he could manage it, he excused himself and went up to his office. Toreth was waiting for him there, sitting at his desk with his feet up. Carnac studied at him for a moment, trying to read his expression. A prefect balance of nerves and anticipation.

"You know what I'm going to do," Carnac said.

Toreth smiled at him, tense as a wound spring. "Make the call. Go on. Make the fucking call. I want to watch you do it."

It took only a couple of minutes to discover that Kailynna Avens had been taken out of custody at nine twenty-seven that morning.

Knowing it was hopeless, Carnac asked the questions anyway. The warrant had carried Carnac's name, and his authorisation — that's why he hadn't been informed. No, no one knew where she was. No one recognised the men she had left with — three men in Service troopers' uniforms. They had their names too, of course.

Carnac cut the comm and thought about closing airports and ordering searches. It would be a waste of time. There were too many ways out of New London, particularly for a highly trained operative. Someone might get lucky, but it wasn't worth the risk of publicly tying his name too closely to the fiasco. It was bad enough that his name had been used on the warrant.

Chevril had lied to him, last night and this morning. Comprehensively, and with a skill Carnac wouldn't have credited. The senior must have had a powerful incentive, which Carnac presumed was currently sitting in the chair before him, smirking at his discovery. Payne must have known about it too — for one thing, if Service people were involved there were good odds that Payne was a party to it at some level. Well, Chevril he could take to pieces at his leisure, but he should start with a careful investigation of Payne's recent movements and contacts.

He was still deep in thought when Toreth pushed his chair back from the desk and stood up. The tension had gone, and Carnac realised that he hadn't known for certain that Kate had escaped.

"I'm going back downstairs," Toreth said. "Butter up the inspectors a bit more. Lots to do for tomorrow. I'll see you then, shall I? When the preliminary verdict comes in. I think you're going to come out of this looking very good indeed."

"It's not a foregone conclusion yet."

"No?" Toreth headed for the door, only a feint because he stopped behind him, too close. Carnac stayed where he was, waiting for Toreth to go through whatever little charade he felt was necessary to underline his victory.

"What are you going to do about it? Tell them that this was all my idea? That you wanted everything how it was when the bad old Administration ran things? That you wanted to execute the lot of us because you didn't have the guts to handle watching an interrogation?" Toreth put his hands on Carnac's waist and pulled him gently back against him. "Are you going to tell them all that?"

Of course he wasn't — it would have been useless and pointless, because no one would want to listen. The idiot inspectors had lapped up every word of Toreth's speech, because it was what they had wanted to hear. They simply refused to understand the danger of letting creatures like Toreth live.

"Do you know, I almost like you like this," Toreth murmured. "Speechless. Suits you. I don't think I've seen you looking better, except maybe when you were flat on your back in bed, telling me all your secrets and begging for more cock."

Toreth's mouth moved against his ear now, triggering a memory he didn't know he had. "Do you know what else? You were flying fifteen miles high while you were doing it, but drugs like that don't work on nothing. You wanted it. You wanted me. That came from
you
, not any ampoule. Now tell me again how much you hate me and what a lousy fuck I am."

Carnac closed his eyes. Toreth could have been making every word up, because he remembered no details at all about the evening, but Carnac knew he wasn't. Besides, the awful, gaping void of memory was worse than anything Toreth could have done to him physically.

Toreth laughed, then let him go and walked out. Carnac leaned on the desk, trying to pretend that Toreth's voice hadn't any effect on him at all. At that precise moment, he hated himself far more than Toreth, or even the obscenity that he represented. However, he knew that feeling wouldn't last much longer than the erection he was willing away.

The single fact he was most clear about was that Toreth would regret this. All of it, everything he had ever done in his over-long, evil life, but most especially this. Toreth would
pay
.

Kate turned over in the darkness, the narrow bed of the cell hard beneath her. When she had been moved to this place, earlier in the day, she had thought, briefly, that they might be setting her free. However, there had been a short journey in a car with blacked-out windows, and then another cell. That was the point at which she had finally given up hope.

How many more Int-Sec agents had been arrested? How many were in places like this?

She might have been afraid of what was ahead, if she hadn't been so angry. After years of sacrifice, years of giving her life to the Administration, the thing they had all fought to prevent had happened. It made her furious to think about it. Animals, she would've called them, except that animals rarely behaved like that. Mindless, destructive barbarians.

She'd seen the reports of the damage to Int-Sec, and especially to I&I. The sharpness of her concern for Toreth had surprised her, as had her relief when Keir called to say his lover was safe. She'd been proud of Keir, even as she'd felt cold at the risk he'd taken by going to I&I. He'd laughed, happy and indulgent, when she'd started to fuss.

"I was perfectly safe, I promise, Mother. The city's full of troopers now — everything's going to be fine."

If only he knew.

Keir couldn't help her here, wherever here was. They would be coming for her soon. There was no sound, no intrusion from the world outside, nothing but darkness, but she knew the resisters would come soon. She had turned in their families; she had killed their friends and lovers — if not with her own hand, then with her reports. There would be no mercy or reprieve.

Although she would never have said anything of the kind to her handlers, she could understand why they wanted to do it. If anyone hurt Keir, or Dilly, or Valeria, she would move heaven and Earth to punish those responsible. However, the difference was that her children weren't traitors.

Resisters played with fire and then whined when they were burned. Tarin's idiotic friends did it with monotonous regularity, and they never learned. They never understood that if they stopped behaving like idealistic fools, they would be accepted and protected by the Administration they professed to loathe.

And why? Because they balked at movement registration or comms surveillance, or resented corporate privilege or population control. Pathetic, childish petulance at necessary rules. The selfish desires of the individual overriding the good of the Administration as a whole.

She'd been arrested by Service troopers —
Service
— and she'd known then that she had lived her life in vain. If people who had sworn an oath to the Administration could sit up and beg for new masters, there was no hope for loyalty from the masses. She almost wished now that she'd spat in their faces when they'd come to collect her.

That would have been vulgar, especially in front of poor Valeria. There was no need to stoop to their level.

Although it was probably too much to hope for a chance to scorn them publicly at a trial, she would finish her years of service with pride and courage. Whatever they did, whatever they wanted from her before she died, she would give them nothing. There was nothing that —

The door opened, without any warning, spilling blinding light into the cell. Before she could accustom herself to it, a voice ordered her out. She emerged, blinking, only to be hurried away down the corridor.

She almost smiled, thinking how ridiculous they must look — two burly troopers, young enough to be her children, and herself, short and grey-haired between them. Then the conviction of a few moments ago returned. This was the end. She straightened her shoulders and lengthened her stride, trying to keep her dignity. They would get nothing from her.

Then they passed through a security door, into another room lit with harsh artificial light, and she saw him.

He looked terribly tired, and, foolishly, she was surprised by how old he seemed. Nothing at all like the precious photographs, where they were both so young.

Still, she recognised him immediately. She had feared, from time to time, that after so many years she wouldn't be able to. That she might pass him in the street and not know him. Now the moment had come there was not a second's doubt or hesitation.

Shock, fortunately, rendered her speechless long enough to register the tiny shake of his head. She stood impassive while the man in Service colonel's uniform completed the transfer paperwork that could only be done with the prisoner present, motioned for the troopers with him to handcuff her, and led the way out of the building.

Two cars waiting for them — one for the troopers, one for the pair of them. She entered the car, sat down, and waited as he sat beside her and the car began to move. She watched through the tinted window as the complex, wherever it was, passed by. Eventually, they passed through a security point and out onto a public road. Leo took her hands, gentle but impersonal, unlocked the cuffs, removed them, and sat back.

"It's all right now, " he said. "You can talk freely."

Silence, while she tried to decide what to say. She could tell nothing from his voice. There was one thing, though, that determined whatever else she might say. "Did you get my letters?"

He nodded. "All of them. But . . . they took a little time to get to me."

"They said they were sending them on, but I was never sure if I could believe them. And when there was nothing back, for so long, I thought —"

He took her hand again. "I asked them to let me see you. I kept asking them for a long time — years — but they said the risk was too great. I'm so sorry, Katy."

"No. No need to be, not now." And there wasn't. She felt as though she had last seen him yesterday, or this morning. However much they had both changed, nothing had changed between them. She looked down at his hand, clasping hers, and thought how beautiful it was, and how she was far too old to think anything so silly.

After a while she asked, "Have there been many agents arrested?" She didn't really care, except that she wanted to hear his voice again.

"No. Int-Sec are keeping it under control, for now. If it starts, it'll be bad, but every day makes it less likely. There have been a few like you — your name slipped out, I don't know how."

"However did you find me?"

"Partly luck. I was one of the senior officers on duty when the message saying that you were in trouble came through. But I recognised the code, so I took charge of it."

Reluctantly, she found herself compelled to ask, "You're working for them? For resisters?"

He shook his head firmly. "I'm working for the Administration."

"But —"

"No. The names at the top might have changed, but not the heart of it." His voice hardened, stripping the years away. "The structure is still in place and that's what matters. That's what is worth fighting for — what we've both fought for."

For so long. She had done her duty to the Administration — endless years of it — and the things that had felt so important in the cell were less compelling now when compared to this miracle. But she hesitated, even so, and he sensed it at once, as he'd always been able to do.

"Katy, do you think I'd still be with Cit if this new council wanted to destroy the Administration?" He squeezed her fingers gently. "You know me better than that."

That she did. The Administration first, over everything else, over herself and Keir and Dilly, and for the first time she realised that she had never once resented him for it, however bitterly she had regretted their separation. Rather, it had been one of the things she had loved about him — his passion, his loyalty and resolve. One of the things that had bound them together.