The Administration Series (67 page)

The room, like the rest of the house he'd seen so far, was tastefully, if not recently, decorated. Light, plainly painted walls, dark floor. A few pictures that looked moderately expensive but not new, with the exception of a recent family portrait over the mantelpiece. The only other notable feature was a large rug, a thick pile with a simple geometric design in dark colours. Toreth guessed it was made from natural, undyed wool and hence notably more expensive than the rest of the decor. A gift from Warrick, he suspected.

Professional assessment over, he looked round, fixing the names to faces. The woman Toreth had sat next to was Jen, greeted by Warrick as Aunt Jen, and clearly Kate's sister. A few years younger, Toreth guessed, and with a sardonic smile that reminded him of Warrick. He caught himself starting to think she was attractive for her age, and stamped firmly on the idea. At least he could try to limit the trouble he could get himself into.

She seemed friendly, but he had the distinct feeling of being carefully assessed. After shaking his hand, telling him to call her Jen, and enquiring whether he would mind if she called him Val (something Kate hadn't done, making him feel obliged to say it was fine), she said, "Have you met any of the family before?"

"Only Dillian. And I know Asher Linton and Cele."

She nodded, apparently unsurprised, and he felt suddenly certain that Dillian had been talking about him. Nothing to be done about that, except to make the best impression he could now. Although, briefly, he wondered why the hell he cared.

"Did you know Cele is an artist?" Jen asked. When he nodded, she added, "She painted the portrait over there."

She waved towards the family portrait and, obediently, he examined the picture more closely. Warrick, Dillian, Kate and Jen, posed to emphasise the startling family resemblance. Toreth didn't know or care a great deal about art in general, but he had a lot of experience with likenesses, and the portraits were superb — not only accurate, but also capturing the personality of the subjects. Witnesses would find it easy to identify any of the four from the picture.

"It's very good," he said.

Jen nodded. "Cele is extremely successful these days." She smiled. "I certainly couldn't afford any of her work, but that was a gift for Kate's birthday."

"From Warrick?"

There was a brief pause, and then Jen nodded. "It was a joint gift from Keir and Dillian, actually."

The name caused the hesitation, he decided. Warrick, here, clearly still referred to his late father. Well, they'd have to cope. Some compromises were out of the question.

After a moment Jen said, "Did you get all the names, or would you like me to go round everyone again?"

"Please."

Within the family, the most surprising face belonged to a man identified as Warrick's brother. He looked so unlike Warrick and Dillian that Toreth wasn't at all surprised that he didn't share a surname with either of them. Tarin Marriot. Vague memories of the security file stirred, but failed to produce anything concrete. Had their mother remarried after Warrick's father's death? But Tarin looked older than Warrick and Dillian. He really ought to have looked at the file again.

For one thing, even across the length of the generously sized room, he could feel the hostility coming from the man. He'd barely even nodded when Kate introduced them. Now he was concentrating on his conversation, ignoring Toreth pointedly.

There were two other couples around Toreth's age, cousins of some kind, who turned out to own three of the six children between them. Valeria was Tarin's daughter, although his wife wasn't present, for reasons unknown (or at least unrevealed to strangers). Toreth found himself wondering why Tarin wasn't included in the family portrait. He considered asking Jen for some background, but decided that the question had the potential to cause far more trouble than it was worth.

An older couple had also been introduced as an aunt and uncle. One of them was probably a sibling of Kate's, or of one of her husbands. The man looked a little like Tarin, so say a brother of his father.

It seemed somehow absolutely like Warrick that he would have an inconveniently complicated family. By the time he had a first approximation of the family arrangements fixed in his mind, Toreth could feel a slight headache starting. Why hadn't he looked it all up? Why had he accepted the invitation at all? The room was large, but with nearly twenty adults present, it was beginning to feel crowded. Normally he liked crowds, but this felt too loud, too unfamiliar. Or possibly too familiar.

No. He wasn't following that thought. It wasn't even as if the gathering was anything like New Year at home — or rather at his parents' home. For one thing, people were smiling. Drinking and smiling. Drinking, smiling and talking to each other. Sara's suggestion that he might even enjoy it seemed unlikely, but the situation wouldn't be improved by starting with the assumption that he would have a fucking awful time.

One thing that set it apart from New Year with his parents was that only about half of the people present were relatives of one kind or another. The rest were assorted family friends, including Cele and Asher Linton. He wondered what a business partner of Warrick's was doing here, before he remembered that Asher was also an old friend of Dillian's.

After a while Kate and Dillian reappeared, with a subset of the children. To Toreth's relief they seemed to have the hang of sitting quietly and not bothering the adults.

Surprisingly, Dillian sat down on the sofa between himself and Jen. Perhaps she wanted to keep an eye on him. He listened to the conversations going on around him, contributing from time to time. He paced his drinking carefully, because Kate seemed happy to refill glasses as soon as they were empty.

After half an hour or so, he even managed to coax a few sentences from Tarin, although, from his tone, conversation wouldn't be enough to fix whatever the hell his problem was. In fact, Toreth doubted anything would, short of a thorough m-f. Tempting idea. Warrick could have mentioned, he thought irritably. But then, on that logic, he could have asked. He decided to write it off and simply ignore Tarin.

Toreth had been sitting in silence for a while when Valeria appeared beside him and, before he could fend her off, climbed onto his knees. He sat, frozen. She made herself comfortable, then turned dark, serious eyes up to him.

"Tell me a story, Uncle Val."

Beside him, Dillian snorted with suppressed laughter and hastily turned away to talk to Jen.

"Um." Toreth's mind went blank. The only stories he knew were jokes, which were all highly unsuitable for six-year-olds. "I don't know any."

She gave him a withering look, which was obviously part of the family heritage. "You must know
one
."

He cast around, hit on something. "Do you know where Mars is?"

"Yes. It's a planet."

"Right. Well, I lived there for a while."

"Auntie Dillian went to Mars," she said, plainly unimpressed. "She's an en-gin-eer." She pronounced each syllable carefully. "Are you?"

"No." Perhaps it was the unaccustomed circumstances, or perhaps he hadn't been as careful with the drinks as he'd thought, but none of his usual half-truths came forward. "I'm a para-investigator."

She played with this fascinating new word for a while. "What's a para-'vestigator?" she asked at length.

Oh, Christ. I investigate crimes, cover them up for corporates, and sometimes I torture prisoners. Your uncle hates it, but he fucks me anyway because I can make him come so hard he practically passes out. "Er . . . I ask people questions."

"All
day
?" From her expression, Valeria considered that to be about the most wonderful job she could imagine.

"More or less." Time to change the subject.

Before he could even attempt it, the girl turned round and addressed the nearest adult, who of course was Dillian. "Auntie Dillian?" She reached out and tugged her sleeve. "Auntie Dilly? I'm going to be a para-'vestigator."

Unfortunate that the announcement coincided with a lull in the conversation. Dillian went ashen pale, then spots of colour flushed high up on her cheeks. She stood up quickly, looking round as if desperately hoping that no one else had heard, then snatched Valeria up out of his lap.

"Let's go help Uncle Keir with dinner."

Wonderful. Dillian even more pissed off with him, and it wasn't even his fault this time. She should have taken the little brat away earlier, instead of laughing about it. Before he could frame a suitable apology or explanation, she had left the room. A couple of the adults followed her out, including Tarin. He looked furious enough to choke.

There was a brief silence, and then the conversation slowly started up again. This time Toreth didn't try to join in.

He had just decided to go out — to get some fresh air, to find Warrick, or possibly to go home — when Warrick opened the door.

"You'll all be glad to hear that dinner's ready."

In the dining room, he was mildly surprised to see the long table laden with food, but no place settings. A buffet, of course, because even considering the size of the table it would be too small for everyone to sit down.

As a guest, he seemed to be expected to go first. Picking up a plate, he inspected the food. He'd guessed that Kate might be the source of Warrick's enthusiasm for fiddly recipes, but instead the dishes on offer seemed rather plain, but looked good, with plenty of fresh bread.

The main item was a couple of large heated pots filled with something stewlike. His memory eventually dredged up the name cassoulet. The last time he'd eaten it had been at an expensive restaurant to which he'd taken an Int-Sec Internal Investigator in ultimately fruitless pursuit of a career-enhancing fuck. There it had consisted of a tiny portion with unnecessary decoration. Here there was more than enough, even considering the number of guests.

He filled his plate, and looked for somewhere to sit.

Warrick came over. "We usually go into the kitchen."

'We' turned out to be Dillian (who looked less than pleased to see him but didn't say anything), Cele and Asher.

Warrick uncorked a bottle of wine and filled glasses. Then he checked his watch and raised his glass. "Happy New Year, less three hours and twenty-seven minutes."

They toasted the time and sat down to eat. With Cele, Dillian and Warrick at the same table, Toreth reflected, you couldn't fault the scenery.

He tried a mouthful of cassoulet, then turned to Warrick. "It's very good. One of yours?"

He shook his head. "Mother. She does it every year."

"Everyone comes round for dinner tonight," Dillian said. "Friends and family. And then the family stays over for New Year's Day. We have a fancy lunch then. Keir and Aunt Jen do that."

Setting it out for the outsider.

Warrick turned to Dillian. "Mother said you'd been offered a job at the university?"

She nodded. "Visiting lectureship. I've decided to accept."

"Won't you get bored, stuck here on Earth?" Toreth asked, wondering how much more of her he'd get to see. In terms of time, that was, obviously.

"It'll make a nice change of pace, I think. And being at the university, I'll be able to see Keir. And the two of you," she said to Asher and Cele. No mention of him.

"What about Europa?" Warrick asked.

"The main contract's sunk without trace in a bureaucratic quagmire somewhere in the Department of Planning and Development. As far as I can tell, because it'll be the first European installation there, no one can work out the procedure for licensing it. Either that, or there's another corporation trying to steal the contract." She shrugged. "Not my problem, anyway. If it ever resurfaces, the university will release me, but I doubt it'll happen now."

Asher shook her head. "I hope you had decent penalty clauses."

"Oh, yes. They'll be paying
my
fees, whatever happens in the end. Best kind of job, actually."

The conversation turned financial, a topic that bored Toreth intensely. Cele didn't seem to have much of an interest in it, either, because she turned to him and asked, "How's my favourite Seven Inches?"

"You're still short."

She laughed. "If you say so."

"They're very well. And so am I. You?"

"Not bad, and better for seeing you." She looked round the table. "My God. Between you, Dilly and Keir there are so many beautiful cheekbones here I could die and go straight to heaven. Don't suppose I could persuade you to commission a picture of the three of you, so I could justify spending the time on it?"

"Jen said you were expensive."

She grinned. "The pictures aren't cheap, either. But I'll give you a discount."

"I'll think about it."

Apart from the expense, it wasn't actually a bad idea for a future New Year present. Warrick would probably love it. Just the two of them, without Dillian, would be better, considering the poses that sprang to mind. Or, on the other hand, maybe not. He'd always liked the idea of Dillian . . . he caught the thought, which wasn't conducive to his resolution to behave.

"Do you come here every year?" he asked Cele, as a distraction.

She nodded. "Hardly missed one, ever since I first met Dilly."

Someone else who called her Dilly. He'd never dared try it. "Where did you meet?"

"School. Ash, Dilly and me. Ash's rich parents were always off God knows where, and mine are Service, so Kate started inviting us here. Now it's one of her Family Traditions, like Dilly said."

Dillian looked round. "Sorry?"

"Not you, gorgeous. I was just telling Seven Inches here that Kate's big on family traditions, bless her." She winked at him. "You'll turn into one before long, you wait and see."

The idea didn't appeal, and from the brief expression of dismay on Dillian's face, she felt the same. So it was purely to spite her that he said, "I'll look forward to it."

Cele nodded approvingly. "Keeps the numbers up.
Some
people have been slacking off lately."