The Administration Series (255 page)

"I can't." As Toreth started to protest, he held up his chopsticks. "I promise that I have no plans to make any more attempts on Cit Surveillance, but I won't make any promises I can't guarantee to keep. If an opportunity presents itself, then I'll take it. I'm sorry."

So that was it. Impasse. Walk out, that was the traditional next step, and Warrick seemed to be expecting it — his gaze flicked over to Toreth's bag, lying against the chest of drawers, and Toreth could almost read his mind.

You didn't even manage to stay long enough to unpack.

Well, fuck him if he thought Toreth was that predictable.

Toreth shrugged and drained his glass. "Well, okay. It's your funeral, among others. I just hope I get a chance to say 'I told you so' while they're cuffing me." He held out his hand. "Pass me the noodles."

For once he had the satisfaction of seeing Warrick utterly nonplussed. Warrick stared at his outstretched hand, then up to Toreth's face, as though he were speaking a foreign language. After several seconds, he picked the carton up and handed it over carefully, obviously waiting for the argument to start up.

"Thanks. Now let's eat before the food gets cold and the beer gets warm. And then . . . "

Warrick raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Toreth smiled. This not-having-a-blazing-row was easier than it looked. "Then I still have to think of something to give you for your birthday."

In the taxi on the way in to work the next morning, Toreth did consider doing exactly what Warrick had so obviously suspected he would — nothing. If Warrick was pressing on anyway, Toreth might as well pretend to investigate for a few days before announcing that he'd found nothing. In the meantime, he'd try his damndest to stop Warrick causing more trouble. Maybe Cele could talk sense into Warrick if Toreth couldn't.

However, the best chance of stopping Warrick's lethal plans was to find Leo before him. More than that, the existence of the list nagged at him. A genuine, unpursued lead in an unsolved case, and one that he could even look into in reasonable safety. As he studied the file again, he wondered if he would ever learn to leave well enough alone. Very probably not. Somehow, over the years, the job had got inside him. He had twenty names to check. The most logical way was to start with the most suspicious one and work down. Done with reasonable caution, that would fill a few days.

It didn't take Toreth long to find what he wanted in the credit and purchase check attached to the Justice file. A bar — a regular drinking place for John Sable. As the taxi drove into I&I, Toreth made a note of the address, put his screen away, and called Warrick.

"Toreth?" Given that he'd seen Toreth only an hour before, Warrick looked predictably surprised. "Is there, ah, any news?"

"No. I'm just checking that you'll be busy at work today."

Warrick half smiled. "Very busy. There's a directors' meeting this morning, during which we'll no doubt decide to delay making unpleasant decisions for another few days. That should keep me out of mischief."

"Good. I'll see you this evening. I — " He hesitated, but the last thing he wanted was Warrick getting interested in where he was. "I might be late back tonight. It's work," he added. "Nothing to get alarmed about."

Warrick nodded, no trace of undue curiosity in his eyes. "I'll probably be working late too. I'll see you when I see you."

By the time Toreth reached his stakeout for that evening, the weather had closed in, and a light drizzle dampened everything, blowing under awnings and into doorways.

Santiago's Bar was on the opposite side of the Int-Sec complex to I&I, conveniently close to the extensive buildings of the Data Division's Int-Sec branch. It was also packed with a Friday crowd buoyed by the start of the weekend. It looked like a respectable place, serving what smelled like good food. No doubt the main business came from lunchtimes and early evenings. From his c&p records, Sable followed that pattern.

The bar ranged along one wall, so Toreth bought a drink and took a seat at the end, which gave a view of virtually the whole place. The crowd was welcome. If the man was here tonight, there was that much more chance that Toreth would be able to take a first look at him without being spotted in return.

And if Sable was Leo Warrick, what then? Toreth wasn't sure. He sure as hell had no intention of walking up to a Citizen Surveillance agent and announcing that he knew who and what the man was. That was suicidal, even without considering the part where he asked Sable if he'd tried to murder his stepson.

He'd been there for an hour before he caught sight of his target. He'd missed Sable's entrance — the grey-haired, soberly-suited man was already seated, alone, in a booth across the far side of the bar. Cele's drawing had been astonishingly good, considering that she'd been working from a description given by a child witness who had seen the suspect only at a distance.

Then Toreth saw Warrick. He stood inside the doorway, the light dusting of water on his shoulders already evaporating in the heat from the unit above the door. Must have come here in a taxi, Toreth noted automatically, because his shoes and the rest of his coat were dry.

Weirdly, the next thought that went through Toreth's mind was that he was dreaming. His brain had taken Leo's sudden reappearance, combined it with the memory of the post-Carnac evening that Warrick had dragged Toreth home from a bar and fucked some sense back into him, and twisted it all together into this nightmare.

The helpless paralysis certainly felt like a nightmare. Warrick looked around the bar, his gaze moving over Toreth without giving any sign that he'd seen him, but as soon as he caught sight of Sable he stiffened. Toreth watched Warrick cross the bar, his gaze fixed intently on Leo.

It wasn't a dream. How the fucking hell had Warrick got here? Followed Toreth? Somehow found the address himself?

Not, please God, been back in the fucking Cit files?

It didn't matter right now. Warrick was already sitting down opposite Sable, who half rose, surprise plain on his face. Warrick was already speaking, and given his recent record he was no doubt saying something stupendously stupid that would get them both killed.

What should he do? What
could
he do? He divided his attention between his watch and the faces of the two men. They both sat in profile. Warrick was unreadably neutral; after the initial reaction, Sable looked perfectly calm too.

Probably planning how to have Warrick killed. Good job — or not — that the mob had dealt with most of Psychoprogramming during the revolt.

It took another two minutes before Toreth could force himself to stand. As casually as he could, he worked his way across the bar, keeping his face away from the pair at the table, until he could slot into the fortunately empty booth behind Warrick.

"You're saying that you have no idea what happened?" Warrick said.

"No, I know the case very well. I've been watching the progress of the transport investigation. The conclusion at the moment seems to be that there was a malfunction of the taxi guidance system, due to outdated software which is partially incompatible with the current Central Transport Division's traffic control systems. The rest of the company's vehicles are being examined. They seem to share the same fault, making sabotage unlikely. There may be a prosecution, if the corporation is found to be negligent."

"And then I suppose there'll be compensation for Valeria?" Warrick asked bitterly.

"I don't make the rules. I don't run transport investigations, either. I'm just telling you what I know." There was a brief silence. "I'm grateful for what you did for Kate, but there are limits to what I can do and what I can tell you about — "

"No." Emotion cracked through Warrick's voice. "I'm a corporate. I live with risk every day. I understand it. But I need to know that the others are safe. I have an obligation towards all of them, including Tarin. Especially Tarin. If they're in danger — if he's in danger — then there has to be something, some compromise, some way to avoid — "

"Keir," Sable broke in. "Please, listen to me. The Administration protects its loyal citizens. If . . . if Citizen Surveillance were involved, then I very much doubt that anyone's life but Tarin's would be in danger. I understand your concern for your family and friends, but in this case it's badly misplaced."

"Citizen Surveillance isn't involved?"

"Officially, Citizen Surveillance doesn't even exist. But if it did, then I have no knowledge of
any
such involvement. And, believe me, I have been watching the files."

"And that's all you have to say?"

"Yes."

"I see." There was a long pause. "Then I don't think we have anything more to say to each other."

The booth creaked, and Toreth looked hastily away, grabbing a menu to scrutinise. Much too late, he realised he should have sat behind Sable, who was furthest from the main door of the bar. Sitting here, they would both have to pass him on the way out.

"Goodbye, Keir," Sable said.

Warrick didn't respond. A faint shadow crossed Toreth as Warrick passed him, and he prayed Warrick wouldn't glance down. The footsteps didn't falter, and after giving it five seconds, Toreth lifted his head cautiously, keeping the menu high. He spotted Warrick at once, walking away across the bar. He didn't look back.

Then Toreth caught movement beside him, and glanced up quickly. Sable had left the booth too, and Toreth wondered if he was going to follow Warrick. What the hell should Toreth do if he did? Follow both of them?

However, after a couple of steps Sable halted, within an arm's reach of Toreth. He stood perfectly still, watching his son stroll calmly out of the bar. Toreth studied him, trying desperately to read his expression. He stared a fraction too long, because the man looked down and caught his eye. Before Toreth could think of what he ought to do, Sable had taken a seat opposite him.

"I'm sorry. Is this place taken?"

"No."

"Good." He turned away, surveying the bar with leisurely thoroughness before he added, "Do you know who I am?"

Toreth nodded mutely and wondered if he had time to get another drink before he died.

"Good. That simplifies things immeasurably. Is there somewhere we could go to talk? I have colleagues who may be along shortly, and it would be better for both of us not to be seen together."

Every instinct screamed 'stay here!', but the protection would be largely illusory. Perhaps if he cooperated there might be a safe way out of this.

They walked down the street in silence, and then down a quieter side alley until they reached another bar — Gegi's. Toreth stopped outside and nodded to the door. "That okay?"

"Not somewhere I frequent," Sable said. "However, I had in mind somewhere more private."

"This is perfect, trust me."

Inside, Toreth turned to the nearest staff member and waved an attention-getting credit card. "Half an hour, please."

The sale went through unremarked and Toreth took the room number. As they headed for the stairs, Toreth wondered how many times he had done this. He always, previously, expected to survive it.

In the room, he sat on the bed while Sable locked the door, checking it twice, then looked at his watch. "Half an hour?"

Toreth pointed to the comm by the bed. "If that's not long enough, they'll usually extend it, unless they're busy. Should be okay this early, even on Friday."

"I think that half an hour should be adequate." His cool voice sounded suddenly, startlingly, familiar. "You said that you knew who I was. Tell me."

What was the least he could get away with revealing? "You were outside Valeria Wintergreen's school on the day her father had his accident."

"Ah."

Suddenly, Toreth had a very strong sense that he'd given the wrong answer. He thought about the other things he knew or suspected, and wondered if any of them would have been better.

Disturbingly echoing his thoughts, Sable asked, "Anything else?"

"Why don't you just tell me?"

Brisk shake of the grey head . "That would be unwise, for both of us. You have some dangerous hobbies, Para-investigator. As you may have heard me say, I've been watching the files."

"I thought it would bear some looking into."

"You didn't feel the need to request the case be transferred officially?"

"I didn't want to attract Cit Surveillance's attention. And . . . I didn't want to draw too much attention towards Warrick."

"Good." The approval sounded perfectly genuine. "I would hate to think that my son was involved with someone who didn't give
some
thought to his safety."

Well, that cleared up what Sable was willing to admit, and the tone of voice was perhaps a little less intimidating than it had been. "Believe me, it's been on my mind a lot recently."

"I can imagine." Sable smiled briefly. "Yesterday was rather stressful, but I expect that I had the best morning of the three of us. By the time I found out about the arrest, Keir had been released. So is there anything you wish to say to me?"

"Tarin's accident wasn't badly done." Toreth noted the brief flicker of surprise at the forthright assessment. "But you shouldn't have been there. It was too much of a coincidence."