The Nexus Series: Books 1-3 (39 page)

“We’re not
interested in your explanations,” growled Bradley.

“I was afraid you
would say that,” the distorted voice crackled softly.

Again Corey
reached for the visor.

The man wearing
it made no move to stop him.

Corey slowly
slipped the helmet up and over the man’s head.

A pair of steel-gray
eyes looked out at them.

29

“I
told you,” said Director Holiday, “it would be easier if I explained first.”

No one else
spoke.  Any words they could think of were caught in their throats.

“I should have
known,” he said amusedly, “that you all would be here.  Please, help me
stand.”

They silently
obeyed.  Beneath his black coat, they saw he was wearing a uniform like
theirs.  Several stunners were lodged in the armor.

“Welcome,” he
said with a gesture, “to the base of operations for Project RedEyez—our
department’s best-kept secret.  Or so we thought.”

Bradley’s eyes
bugged.  “You mean...?”

Holiday
nodded.  “The project began more than a year ago.  The idea came
straight from the top:  the United Space Programs’ Administrative Office
on the Home Planet.  They, the project staff, and myself were the only
ones aware of its existence.”  Holiday’s gray eyes turned cold.  “Not
another soul was to hear of it—not you, not even our department’s governing board.”

“The project was
far too revolutionary to let word of it slip,” a voice came from behind them.

Flannigan, steady
and not the least bit stunned, stood facing them.  He held two upraised
handguns.

They reached for
their own guns.

Holiday stopped
them with a gesture.  “Put away your weapons, Mr. Flannigan.  It
doesn’t have to be like this.”

Flannigan didn’t
obey.  “Our project has been compromised.  Something has to be done.”

“Something
besides shooting them on the spot,” Holiday said as though impatiently scolding
a child.  “Now put them away!”

“I don’t suppose
you had anything to do with this intrusion, did you, Director?”

“Don’t be
absurd.  I had no idea of the location of this lab until I arrived here a
quarter of an hour ago.  If I had, believe me, I would have stopped them.”

“Would you? 
I’m not so sure.”

“I don’t have to
remind you of the dire consequences I would face if this project were
compromised.”

“I know that all
too well.  But you seem like the type who would willingly martyr himself
for a cause he believed in.”

Holiday sighed
impatiently.  “My team has stumbled across your lab by mistake, Mr.
Flannigan.   If I wanted to stop you, I would not have involved
them.  There are far simpler methods to which I could have resorted. 
You know this.”  He stared unblinkingly at the ponytailed man.

Flannigan slowly
lowered his weapons.  His accusing look didn’t change.  “You’ve never
fully supported what we’re doing here, have you, Director?” he said
bitterly.  “I sensed it the moment we first spoke. Even the distorted phone
line couldn’t hide the skepticism in your voice.”

“My opinion is
irrelevant,” replied Holiday.  “The project is going forward regardless of
what I may think.”

“But you don’t
deny feeling reservations about it?”

“Of course I have
reservations about it.  The fact that it’s completely and utterly against
the law, for starters.”

“What?” gasped
Amber.

“We were never
going to let legal technicalities get in the way of the department’s
effectiveness,” said Flannigan.

“A ‘legal technicality’
that could land us in prison for quite some time if we’re discovered,” Holiday
mentioned casually.

Jill and her
teammates glanced at each other nervously.

“We’re trying to
make this department more effective for the good of our citizens,” Flannigan
retorted.  “We’re operating on a principle higher than the law.”

“A line of
thinking adopted by many well-meaning men, and with many tragic
consequences.  It’s a dangerous game we’re playing, Flannigan.”

“We’re
revolutionizing our technology,” the ponytailed man retorted, “that’s what
we’re doing!  Sherlock will be more efficient than ever.”

“We have
attempted to go where we don’t belong.”

“For crying out
loud, we’re
spies
, Director!  It’s what we do.”

“Continuously
lurking behind the closed doors of our citizens is
not
what we do,”
countered Holiday.

“And what about
when crimes are committed behind those closed doors?”

“Does that
possibility justify our constant invasion of their privacy?”

“It’s not
invasion; it’s
protection
.  Besides, no one will ever see the data
gathered from the RedEyez except what gets flagged by Sherlock.  Our
governing board makes sure of that!”

“You mean our
governing board which has not been allowed to know of this project’s
existence?” Holiday asked, eyes narrowed.

Flannigan
frowned.  “If you’re so concerned, why didn’t you say something months ago
when the plan was first launched?”

“The Admin Office
didn’t consult me in the matter.”  He grimaced.  “However, as
department director, my name was conveniently included among the initiators of
the project.”

“And why
shouldn’t it be?  You’ve been with the department since its
inception.  You’ve never had a problem invading people’s privacy
before!  Up to now, you’ve been more than happy for Sherlock to track
people’s movements, listen to their phone calls, monitor their hard drives—”

“I have hardly
been ‘more than happy’ about it,” Holiday repeated the words harshly.  “I
have never for a moment forgotten that we are playing with fire in this
business.  Only the utmost caution will keep us from being consumed.”

“So we’ll use
caution with the RedEyez, too,” Flannigan said with a shrug.  “It’s no
different.”

“If it’s no
different,” the director asked coldly, “why do you say the RedEyez have
revolutionized our technology?”

The man with the
gray ponytail sputtered again.  “If I didn’t have more respect for you,
Director, I’d call you a hypocrite.”

“Maybe I am,”
Holiday said softly.  “Maybe I’ve come down on the wrong side of the moral
dilemmas I face every day.  Maybe I don’t know where the line ought to be
drawn.  But you seem to think it oughtn’t to be drawn anywhere.”

Flannigan had no
reply.

“Anyway,” the
director sighed, “this discussion is purely academic.  The project is
going forward regardless of what I think.  All there is to do is make the
best of it.”

“You sound so
dour about it,” said Flannigan.  “Try being a little more
optimistic.  I believe one day you’ll learn to appreciate the benefits of
what we’re doing here.”

“And perhaps one
day,” Holiday replied, “you’ll learn to recognize the dangers.”  He turned
to the team.  “Well, as fascinated as you all must be with the
philosophical banter of a couple of old men, perhaps it’s time we shook the
dust from our feet and got out of here.  What do you say?”

THE
department cafeteria had long since closed.  Momma Ginny prepared a
special supper of pizza and salads for the director and his team, just returned
from the Dark Beneath.  They sat at a corner table in the otherwise empty
room.

“So what happens
now?” asked Amber.

“We keep on the trail
of Sketch’s ring,” said Holiday.  “They’re still gathering weapons. 
An interrogation of Miss Maybury and her companion should point us in the right
direction.”

“What about
Project RedEyez?” asked Corey.

The director
furrowed his brow.  “There’s very little we can do about that at the
moment.”

“Are you sure
there’s no way to contact the board or the authorities about this without you
going to prison?” Dizzie asked with her mouth full.

“Unfortunately
not,” said Holiday.  “The project is a gross violation of citizens’
privacy.  Anyone involved will most certainly be prosecuted.”

“But you never
approved of the RedEyez,” said Amber.

“My name has been
tied to the project from the beginning, whether I approved of it or not,” said
Holiday.  “Guilt by association.”

Momma Ginny
appeared with another round of piping hot pizza.  “If we had to find
ourselves a new director,” she said, setting the pan on the table, “I’d quit on
the spot.”

“Thank you,
Virginia,” said Holiday.

“Aw, what about
the rest of us, Momma Ginny?” asked Corey.  “Wouldn’t you stay here with
us?”

“Don’t act like
you’re something so special, Corey Stone,” she said.  But she was smiling
as she disappeared back into the kitchen.

 “Maybe
Project RedEyez won’t be such a bad thing,” suggested Bradley.

Dizzie scowled at
him.  “Were you listening
at all?
  It could land the director
in prison!”

“I’m just
saying,” Bradley said defensively, “if we can’t stop it, we may as well take
advantage of it.”

“I can’t say I
disagree,” said Amber.  “I understand your concerns about the RedEyez,
sir.  But if they’re going forward with them one way or another, maybe we
could at least use them to do some good.”

“Perhaps,” the
director replied doubtfully.  “Or perhaps they could cause the department
to spin out of control.  That project is the first step down a frightening
path.  How much more information will we seek?  How much more will we
justify doing in response that information?  How long before we decide our
job is to oversee and regulate every minute detail of our citizens’ lives?”

“Some people’s
secrets are not there for us to go digging after,” Corey said
contemplatively.  “They are their own, to reveal when—and
if
—they
choose to do so.”

“A scary
thought,” said Jill, “when you think of how many secrets Sherlock already has
access to.”

“Indeed,” said
Holiday.  He looked earnestly around the table.  “Each one of you has
already been given an immense responsibility, and access to powerful resources
to fulfill that responsibility.  I urge you all to exercise great
caution.  Disaster is knocking at the door.”

“You seem to
think we’re destined to fail,” Bradley said with a frown.

“We’re already
failures,” Dizzie said with a sigh.  “Look at us—look at where we’ve all
come from!  You sure picked the wrong group of people, Director.”

Holiday
smiled.  “On the contrary, Desiree, you are precisely the sort of people
we need for this department to succeed.”

“We’ll succeed,”
Jill said quietly, sharing a knowing look with the director, “because we’ll
always remember our own potential for corruption.  The moment we forget
our own failures and struggles—the moment we stop being willing to admit who we
truly are—this department will fall.”

HOLIDAY
took a seat across from
Holbert
Dillon in one of
GoCom’s interrogation rooms.  He didn’t bother with a greeting.  “How
did you know about Project RedEyez?” he asked the former member of The Nexus’
governing board.

Dillon
smiled.  “I have my methods.”

“You’re a
first-rate snoop, are you?”

“You could say
that.”

“We need
first-rate snoops in the department.”

“So you want me
to join the department?”

“I want you to
return to the board,” the director said earnestly.

Dillon gestured
around him.  “I’m a prisoner, remember?”

“You’re being
held as a suspect.  It turns out the charges have been dropped.”

“I’m not
interested.”

Holiday
sighed.  “You’ve already made up your mind?”

“I was hesitant
the first time I was asked to join the board.  With department such as
yours, there’s far too much potential for abuse of power.”

“You were part of
the team that programmed Sherlock.”

Dillon smiled
sadly.  “So I ought to know.”

Holiday sat
back.  “To answer a question you asked me some time ago:  Yes, I am
quite familiar with the science fiction created by past generations—stories
about government agencies much like ours.  You’re right, of course; in the
old books and films, such people inevitably turn out to be the villains. 
Those writers knew something about human nature, didn’t they?”

Dillon seemed
surprised at his words.  “Then you know why I stand where I stand. 
Project RedEyez is a perfect example.”

“Project RedEyez’
days are numbered, Mr. Dillon.”

More surprised
crossed Dillon’s face.  “I don’t suppose you have anything to do with
that?”

“A wise man once
told me that Sherlock already finds plenty for us to do; there’s no reason to
go out looking for any more than his mechanical brain is already aware of, now
is there?”

Dillon smiled at
the table.  “If this is your way of trying to convince me to rejoin the
board...”

“The department
and its board will exist whether you’re involved or not, Mr. Dillon.” 
Holiday leveled a penetrating gaze at him.  “The question is whether or
not they’ll operate with integrity.  An honorable governing board will go
a long way in determining the answer.”

The thin man with
the perfect goatee returned his gaze.  “So will an honorable director.”

Holiday gave a
barely discernable nod.

“Well,” Dillon
said, “maybe I ought to put in a little more thought before I make my
decision.”

Holiday
nodded.  “I’m glad to hear it.”  He stood, walked around the table,
and removed Dillon’s handcuffs.  “You know how to reach us.  Oh, by
the way, because the case has been dropped, we are no longer required to keep
the material evidence in our possession—a certain camera and notebook.”

Dillon stood,
uncuffed
.  “Keep them,” he said.

Holiday looked at
him.  “When you journal your darkest thoughts...when you photograph your
daughter...”

“I don’t mind
Sherlock keeping them in his possession,” Dillon answered, “so long as good
people are keeping Sherlock in their possession.”