The Administration Series (252 page)

Oh, yes, he thought as he turned back to the lifts. I'll find him.

He'd kill them, Toreth decided on the way down the corridor to General Criminal. Warrick first, then Carnac. Or maybe Carnac first, because if he was caught between murders, he'd prefer to be sure of Carnac.

Sara was absent from her desk when he arrived. He soon discovered why — she was in his office, using his comm. When she saw him, she said goodbye and closed the connection.

"Warrick's been arrested!" she burst out as soon as he closed the door.

"I know." He did at least get the satisfaction of being able to say that and of seeing her surprise. "Dillian was here. How did you know?"

"I got a call from one of the admins in Computer Crimes. She recognised his name from my tenth anniversary party. She remembered talking to him about the sim."

The name of Computer Crimes was both welcome and unwelcome news; Political Crimes would have been worse. "Did she have any clue why they pulled him in?"

"A security breach, that's all she knew. Something high level, because she said Avis was looking pleased — he hasn't had a big case for a long while, even before the — " She hesitated, as she still always did when mentioning the revolt. "The trouble. It was a quiet arrest, though, and they haven't applied for a waiver yet."

Probably because they'd be waiting for reports from the systems specialists. "
Fuck
."

Sara was watching him narrowly. "What are you going to do?"

"I have no fucking clue. Jesus. Fucking
idiot
!" He slammed his palms flat on the desk. Sara jumped up out of the chair at the explosion, but it released some tension. No waiver meant there were probably a few hours' grace to try and sort something out of the mess. "Right. Get back onto the network, find out whatever you can."

After she'd gone, Toreth sat down and tried a deep breath, which didn't seem to help because every time he managed to tamp the anger down a little Carnac's smiling image appeared in his mind's eye. Toreth had turned Warrick down — once, once in all the fucking time they'd been together — and the first thing Warrick had done was run to Carnac. Well, okay, maybe the second thing, right after whatever fucking stupid stunt he'd pulled to get himself arrested by CC.

It was tempting to leave Warrick to stew in his own juice, at least for a while. Why the hell should he make the effort to rescue him after
that
?

On the other hand, superficially attractive as it was to make Warrick sweat, if Computer Crimes could prove Warrick had been in the Citizen Surveillance systems they wouldn't stop asking questions until they'd found out everything. And 'everything' went a long way back for both of them.

Focus, he told himself. A few weeks ago, he'd had a socioanalyst bent — to coin a phrase — on killing him and everyone else in the division. So Toreth ought to be able to cope with Computer Crimes, even with Warrick acting like someone had been slipping him stupidity tablets.

Carnac had been right about something else, too — Warrick wasn't the only one in trouble. One way or another, Toreth's own surreptitious investigations into Tarin's accident were likely to be blown open if Warrick was interrogated, so he might as well not fuck around. Quick action, starting with his best shot. On that basis, he called SimTech and bullied the receptionist into connecting him through to Asher Linton.

She didn't look surprised to see him. She did look pale, and as worried as he'd ever seen her.

"Rob McLean called from the airport when it happened," Asher said. "What's going on? Why have they arrested him?"

"I'm not sure."

"Is it something to do with Tarin?"

Jesus, over an open comm into I&I. The stupidity tablets must be on special offer in the SimTech canteen. "Can you do me a favour?" he asked, hoping she'd drop the question.

"Of course. What?"

"Tell the SimTech legal department to hold off. I think the arrest is a mistake, and the fewer people who get invested in making it stick the better. I don't want Computer Crimes involved in a pissing contest with your lawyers."

"They're already involved. We've submitted an application for an outside representative."

"Okay. If CC are calling this political, it'll get turned down. If it does, just sit tight."

Her eyes narrowed, and he was wondering if she was thinking about Marian Tanit's death in custody. "Why?"

"I can't tell you. You'll just have to trust me."

The silence stretched out. "I'm not happy about this," she said finally.

"You're not alone." Toreth tried not to let the relief show. "Give me until the end of today, at least. You won't get anywhere before then anyway."

"Very well. But no longer. I won't leave him in that place."

It wasn't until that moment that it really hit him. Warrick was
here
. Downstairs on the detention level, in a holding cell or maybe an interview room. The shock drove any thought of Carnac from his mind. Fuck. He only had Sara's word that there wasn't an interrogation in progress right this second, that Warrick wasn't in an interrogation chair, that there wasn't an overworked and bad-tempered interrogator being careless with an injector
right now
.

"Toreth?"

He blinked at the screen, where Asher Linton was looking suddenly concerned.

"Everything's going to be fine, Asher. I'll let you know the second I have any news."

As soon as Asher had gone, he called through to Sara. It took her a minute to answer the comm.

"Any news?" he asked

"Just give me a bit longer. I'll come in when I'm done."

He sat and fretted, unable to shake the images. Sara had said CC didn't have a waiver, but for level one the prisoner need only to have been processed into custody. Even with the revised P&P there was no requirement to wait for independent legal representation. Avis could start interviewing whenever the hell he liked. Warrick wasn't stupid, at least not under normal circumstances, but even the most intelligent people could trip themselves up if they were arrogant enough to start playing word games with trained interrogators.

Toreth weighed up Warrick's intelligence and arrogance, and hoped like hell the former would keep a check on the latter. In the long run, though, it didn't matter. High-level waivers might be a thing of the past, but Toreth had taken care to ensure that the bowdlerised Procedures and Protocols still had bite.

The urge to go downstairs and find Warrick grew with every second. Could he possibly get away with just walking Warrick out of custody? Maybe, but what then? Warrick would have to get out of the Administration, like Kate, and Toreth would have to go with him. And
that
meant that he couldn't leave Sara behind to take the heat. Warrick wouldn't want to abandon Dillian and the rest of his family. Then there were friends, SimTech partners . . . spreading ripples. It was an impossible idea, bordering on suicidal.

Fuck it. It might be the only way.

Impulsively, he stood up, but at that moment the door opened. Sara paused, staring, and he wondered what his face must look like. Then she came in and closed the door.

"I couldn't get much more," she said. "The security violation is inside Int-Sec somewhere. There's an upper-third-level waiver ready to send to Justice, so they must think they have something. But as he's a corporate director, Computer Crimes are sitting on it until they get more evidence."

Pretty much as he'd thought. Unfortunate, because unauthorised access to Administration security records was one thing that corporate status couldn't buy off. Corporates who wanted secure files were far safer sticking to the traditional route of bribery.

"Shall I go down to systems?" Sara asked.

"Huh? Why?"

"I could ask the specialists not to find anything. They might do it, for you."

One option he hadn't considered, and it only took him a few seconds to discard it now. "No. Or not yet. I don't want to owe them that kind of favour — they'd own my soul for the rest of my life. We'll have to try something else."

Warrick had never been handcuffed in anger before. As he paced the cell, the difference it made surprised him. The sick fear caused by being here cancelled any erotic charge from the cuffs. They were simply a reminder of where he was, and of the absolute power I&I had over those who fell into its grasp.

Leaning against the wall, he studied the cuffs. They were so familiar — Toreth had filched more than one pair. A freshly stolen set lay in Warrick's bedside cabinet, a replacement for those looted from Toreth's flat. Avis hadn't cuffed him at the airport or in the car, only in the lift on the way down to this cell. Did that mean they weren't confident of their evidence, or just that in the new climate they were trying not to offend corporates unnecessarily?

The holding cell had no chair or bed — the choices were to sit on the floor or to stand. He stood. Sitting would make it too awkward to stand again when the para-investigator who'd arrested him returned.

Prisoner depersonalisation theory. He'd heard Toreth mention it occasionally.

The cell's grey wall merged into the grey floor. The corridors outside had been the same. When the lift door had opened, the unpleasant disinfectant tang had nauseated him. He didn't recall smelling it the last time he'd been here — perhaps it didn't permeate the upper levels. Now his awareness of it had faded, although if he took a deep breath he could still taste it in the air.

He was underground, he knew that, but how far down was a different question. The heavy door let no sound in, and the absence of any evidence of other people was disconcerting; the air cycling system sounded loud. Toreth must have been somewhere like this, during his few days' imprisonment during the coup. The idea of this same cell in pitch blackness chilled him.

'I knew you'd get us out', Toreth had said. Warrick appreciated for the first time how much of a comfort that hope must have been. At least he himself had a whole legal department who were at this moment gearing up to rescue him. They could have him out faster than he had managed to rescue Toreth.

The main problem with that theory was that Warrick was, in all probability, guilty of the charges, whatever they were. No doubt he would find that out when he finally made it to an interrogation room. He hadn't been so much as interviewed yet, or even told in detail why he was here beyond the vague arrest warrant he'd read at the airport.

Warrick knew he'd been stupid at the arrest. Mentioning Toreth's name to Avis had been as good as implicating him. At the very least it would draw Avis's attention towards Toreth. He only hoped Toreth wouldn't do anything to make it worse.

If Toreth did anything at all. The thought shocked him. It wasn't that he'd casually dismissed Toreth's angry words in Kate's bedroom, but he somehow hadn't felt that they applied here. However, this was exactly the kind of danger Toreth had been thinking about — arrest, interrogation, secrets spilled in a widening pool.

Maybe Toreth
would
abandon him. Warrick was well aware that the main reason their relationship had lasted so long was that he didn't demand more than Toreth was capable of giving. Self-sacrifice was not part of Toreth's makeup, and he'd have the justification of the warning given well in advance.

He was still debating the possibility that he really was alone here when the door opened.

The endless, identical corridors were another feature of the place that had to be designed for intimidation value. Two impassive guards escorted him along, barely looking at him as they opened and closed security doors. They displayed no curiosity about him at all, and he wondered whether they didn't know he was the lover of a para-investigator, or if they knew and didn't care.

When the guards opened the door to an interview room, Warrick recognised Avis at once. There was a tall, blond man behind him, and for a moment Warrick thought it was Toreth. Then he realised his mistake and the disappointment almost choked him.

The blond man seemed familiar, however. He wore an investigator's uniform rather than a para-investigator's, and Warrick wondered if he had met him at one of the rare I&I functions he'd attended.

"Sit," Avis snapped.

The room held a single table and two chairs. Warrick sat in one, and Avis threw himself into the chair opposite. He looked furious. Without explanation, he thrust a hand screen across the table.

Behind Avis, the blond man coughed. When he had his hand cupping his mouth, Warrick thought he saw him mouth something over Avis's head. Had it been 'from Toreth'?

Warrick read, keeping his expression as neutral as he could. The first thing his eye picked out was a number he recognised at once: his security clearance code from his long-ago days in the Data Division.

The heading of the document said it was an authorisation to use an outside agency to gather information. He scanned the rest: Toreth's name, a financial approval for expenses only, no consultancy fees, with a maximum of one hundred euros, and an impossible starting date — the day after Tarin's accident.

Reading too much more would make it look as if he wasn't expecting the miraculous rescue.

He dropped the screen on the table and called up his best corporate arrogance, remembering to keep his hands still so as to minimise the effect of the cuffs. "Well? Isn't it in order?"

Avis's shoulders relaxed a fraction. "Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

"You didn't give me a chance. You arrested me, processed me and put me in a cell."

Behind Avis, the blond man closed his eyes briefly. Relief, Warrick hoped.

"If you'd told me at the airport, you wouldn't be here at all!" Avis said.

"Our lawyers are very strict about it: if arrested, say nothing until you've spoken to them in person."

"Then why the hell didn't
they
say something? We've heard enough from them."

"This is a private consultancy contract between myself and Para-investigator Toreth. Nothing to do with SimTech, so naturally they knew nothing about it. When I got to speak to a representative, I would have explained everything." He hesitated, then added, "I did ask to speak to Para-investigator Toreth, if you recall."