The Administration Series (62 page)

Melissa drew in a breath, so Toreth carried on quickly. "Anyway, back on the table, everything was going to plan, when someone put their hand on my shoulder. Five minutes to midnight, so I assumed it was someone trying to cheat and I told them to eff off, pretty colourfully, I'll admit, and —" he spread his hands, "— finished things with two minutes to go. And when I turned round —"

"It was the Chief Instructor for the Interrogation training course," finished Sara, interrupting in the usual spot.

Toreth nodded. "He'd come to announce who'd won the training debt partial refund awards."

Cele's eyes were sparkling with amusement. "Oh, God, no! You hadn't!"

"Oh, God, yes, I had. Most expensive fuck of my life. I collected two hundred and fifty euros from the bets, and it cost me eight and a half thousand when they stopped the award because I told McFarlen to go forth and multiply. Lucky, in a way, because if they hadn't been able to do that they might've thrown me out. First and
last
year they had a free bar, as well."

Cele shook her head. "I'm not sure I believe it."

"God's honest truth. There's probably a copy of the picture in a box under my bed. I'll dig it out and send you a file."

"How charming," Melissa said. She set her glass down firmly on the table. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my client."

As she walked away, Warrick's glare swept round the group, and Toreth saw Sara actually take a small step backwards. Braced for a grade-A bollocking, Toreth was almost disappointed when Warrick ended up staring at Dillian.

"Satisfied?" he asked icily, and without waiting for a reply, he strode after Melissa.

Dillian appeared unrepentant. "How dare she turn up without telling Keir!" she snapped, as soon as Warrick was approximately out of earshot.

Cele put her arm around Dillian's shoulders. "Calm down. You heard what she said. It's hardly Mel's fault if someone's kids are ill."

Dillian shrugged her off irritably. "She probably poisoned them," she said with every evidence of sincerity.

A voice from behind him pre-empted Cele's reply.

"Dilly!"

He turned to find Asher Linton hurrying over to them. She smiled at him, distracted, and said, "Have you seen Keir? You'll never guess who's here."

"No need." Cele pointed across the room.

Warrick stood next to his ex-wife, with his hand on her elbow. As they watched, she moved her arm pointedly and stalked away. He stayed where he was, looking after her, his hand still raised.

"Oh, dear," Asher sighed. "Well. Can't be helped, I suppose."

Toreth found Sara's foot on his again. When he looked round, she wiggled her eyebrows in a generally Warrick-ward direction.

From his expression, Warrick was probably in a foul mood. On the other hand, left to his own devices he might go after that bloody woman, and Sara's hints looked set to be persistent enough that it would be easier to do what he was told.

"Be right back," he announced vaguely, then headed over towards Warrick.

When he got there, he hesitated. Warrick stood, still staring after Melissa, and Toreth couldn't come up with a decent opening. In the end, he said, "Warrick?"

Warrick turned round at once, looking no happier than he had when he'd walked off. "Thank you
so
much for your contribution to the evening. What the hell was all that about?"

"I didn't fancy spending the whole evening wishing I'd brought my thermal underwear. Dillian thought it was funny."

"Yes, Dilly would." That had a venom he'd never heard Warrick direct at his sister before. "But as things between Lissa and myself have nothing to do with you, I'd appreciate it if you kept out of it in future."

That, unexpectedly, stung. "You're the one who invited me. Changed your mind now?"

"Of course not!"

"So why didn't you tell her who I was?"

"I . . ." Toreth had never seen Warrick blush, but he had a postural equivalent — a defensive shrug, a way of lowering his head and looking up — which meant he'd been caught without a ready reply. "Well, to tell the truth, I didn't know what to say. I wasn't even sure what you'd want me to say. How would you prefer to be described?"

Warrick had an annoying habit of turning these things round by being logical and practical. Annoying in this case because Toreth had no idea. He'd never thought about it before, and nothing sprang helpfully to mind now.

"I don't know," he said at length. "But something. If you don't want people knowing about me, don't fucking invite me in the first place. I'm quite happy with dinner and a fuck twice a week; I don't need to spend my evenings being bored into a coma by your ex-wives and corporate fucking friends."

Warrick glanced in the direction Melissa had gone. "Do we have to —"

His anger sharpened. "I'm not some fucking corporate accessory fancy dog you can drag around on a leash and not even mention to people."

"Now you're being ridiculous," Warrick snapped. "When the hell did I imply you were anything of the kind?"

"You —"

With an effort Toreth reined himself in, and considered the options. Drop it, or let the whole thing spiral up into a blazing row, which would eventually force him to storm out. That would only make him look like an idiot and hand the whole game over to Warrick on a plate, not to mention wasting all his hard work with the present. Melissa had already ruined the mood completely.

"Yeah, you're right." He couldn't quite manage gracious, but it sounded better than he expected. "I overreacted. Sorry."

As he'd expected, it stopped Warrick dead. After a moment, he nodded. "And I apologise for the lack of consideration. I'll try and think of something suitably non-committal for future use."

Toreth nodded, although, now he'd demanded it, the idea made him uneasy.

Warrick looked at his watch, and then laid his hand on Toreth's arm, which was interesting because he didn't usually touch in public. "As you said, I did invite you. There's the food soon, and then the official parts, but we have some time beforehand. What would you like to do? There are sim demos running."

Toreth considered. He might at least try to salvage something from the wreckage. The chains were still at the flat, and Warrick was coming home with him, not Melissa.

"I did the sim with Sara. What I'd like to do is —" Toreth dipped his head slightly and finished the rest of the sentence in a murmur into Warrick's ear. Glancing up as he did so, he saw Melissa watching them from some distance away. She looked as if she had bitten into something unexpectedly sour.

Good.

He stepped back. "Well?"

"Mm." Warrick swallowed and then his smile widened, developing a distinct hint of mischief. "Come on."

"Where?"

"Just come on."

"Woof."

Warrick laughed. "Good boy. This way."

"So, did you ever fuck Cele?" Toreth asked in an undertone as they crossed the crowded room.

Warrick stopped for a moment, stared at him, and then shook his head. "Not that it is any of your business, but no."

They started walking again. "She's pretty tasty," Toreth said.

"You obviously thought so ten years ago."

Toreth shrugged. "I've fucked a lot of women and they weren't all that good-looking. Don't you think she's attractive?"

"Yes. But that doesn't mean I've ever slept with her." Warrick must have caught his disbelieving glance, because he added, "It's not compulsory. It may come as something of a shock to you, but it is possible to be acquainted with people — including attractive people — without sleeping with them. Or even wanting to do so. Technically, it's called 'friendship'."

"Very funny. I've got friends I don't fuck. Sara, to start with."

Now it was Warrick's turn to look disbelieving. "Really?"

"Yeah. Did you think we did?"

"I hadn't given it any thought."

That was so clearly a lie that Toreth felt rather good. Good enough not to spoil the effect by mentioning that he had, in fact, fucked her once. Instead he asked, "So you never even wanted to fuck Cele?"

"Good grief . . . well, yes. In an adolescent way, I suppose I did. At the hormonally crazed stage when you're desperate for sex with anyone. But even then . . . I mean, she's Dilly's friend. I knew her when she was eight, for God's sake."

Toreth wasn't quite sure what difference that made. On the other hand, he no longer had any kind of contact with anyone he'd known when he was eight, so perhaps it did. In any case, he believed Warrick, who didn't lie about that kind of thing. Or not that Toreth had yet caught him at.

The idea of Cele in the sim with Warrick still made him uneasy, though. However much he'd been telling himself it was Warrick's job and nothing to do with him, he discovered that he didn't want to meet anyone involved.

Best not to think about it.

They'd reached the far side of the room. Warrick stopped at a set of double doors, glanced casually round, and then opened them.

Sara watched them go. She'd half expected a spectacular blow-up, but the volcano seemed to have simmered down. The whole thing still surprised her on occasion. More than a year since they'd first met, months since things had become what you might call serious, and they were still at it. Strangest of all, she couldn't see any particular reason it shouldn't
keep
happening.

Not much of a surprise for Warrick, maybe, since he'd apparently managed to get himself married — and she'd love to hear the circumstances behind that. On Toreth's part, though, it wasn't something she'd have credited without benefit of mind-fuck.

Just one of those things, she supposed. For now, the ex-wife presented a more interesting mystery. Especially with sources of information to hand.

"Dillian, what did you start to call Melissa? When we first saw her, you said she was the b-something."

"The Bitch Queen," Dillian admitted after a moment. "Don't tell Keir, will you? Please?"

"Of course not." Telling Toreth was a completely different question. "So, when were they married?"

"The year after Keir left university. That's where they met. It lasted four years, which was four years too long."

"What happened?"

"She walked out on him."

Cele said, "They had a conception license application bounce."

Dillian sniffed. "That was nothing to do with it."

"But they did have the application turned down, didn't they?" When Dillian didn't answer, Cele turned to Sara. "Mel couldn't find a job, and the Department of Population didn't consider Keir's job to be stable enough to have the license granted."

Sara looked round at the reception. "Because of his
job
?"

"SimTech was nothing like this, back then," Asher said. "In fact, at that point we were still running things out of my attic. Keir and Mel were living on a loan from Kate — that's his mother — until the first sponsors paid up."

Cele nodded. "And the
hours
they all worked. Makes me glad I've never had a real job."

Asher smiled. "I was the lucky one. It was my house, so at least I still saw Greg. Mel hardly saw Keir, which can't have helped things."

"I don't know why you're both always so fair to her," Dillian said. "Sara, listen. She married Keir because she thought he was going to be rich and respectable. And then he turned down a very good corporate job to found SimTech. No money, and very much not respectable. She was spitting mad, although I don't think the sex side would have bothered her so much if it had been euros up front."

Cele shook her head. "She married someone who worked for the Administration in the Data Division. And then he ended up in partnership with P-Leisure, designing virtual fuck tech." Sara thought it had the sound of a very old argument. "How would you have felt?"

"I wouldn't have minded. I
didn't
mind it. Anyway," Dillian said to Sara, "she decided she'd backed a loser. The application was just an excuse. She could've waited. But instead she dumped him and sucked every cent she could out of him, like the spiteful vulture she is."

"Mixed metaphor, sweetheart," Cele said. "Leeches suck. Vultures . . ."

"Peck?" Sara suggested.

"Whatever they do, she did it," Dillian said. "She broke his heart. It wasn't funny."

Cele held her hand up. "Hey, whoa there, girl. Did I say it was? But she's not all bad. I always felt sorry for her."

"To be fair to Dilly," Asher said mildly, "there was the business with the shares." She turned to Sara. "During the divorce, Keir rather unfortunately signed everything her lawyers put in front of him. I did my best, but . . ."

Dillian nodded. "I was in the middle of my first contract on Mars, or
I
would've stopped him, but by the time I got back it was too late. Part of what he signed away was some SimTech shares. She waited a couple of years, and then demanded he buy them from her. She could do it, too — it was all in the damn settlement. But SimTech was broke, and she knew it. She's a bitch, she's always
been
a bitch, and she didn't deserve him."

"She did need the money, though," Asher said. "She'd remarried —"

Dillian muttered, "Quick off the mark."

"— and she'd got her license approved that time. It wasn't pure spite."

"Anyway, there's a happy ending," Cele added. "The heroine rides in from outer space and saves the day. Dilly sold her soul to some God-awful construction project and gave Keir the money to pay Mel off."

Dillian shuddered. "Two years on a deep-sea installation. They pay very well, because no one's mad enough to do it."

"So the shares are safe with Dilly —" Asher said.

"And
she's
sick because SimTech's so successful," Dillian finished, with great satisfaction. "She'll never get another cent from it."

Cele smiled. "The basic problem," she said to Sara in a confidential stage whisper, "is that
no one
is good enough for Keir, for whom the sun rises and sets."