Cyteen

  Justin slid his card into the lock, heard it click, set for his CIT-number. He walked into the short paneled hall and opened the inside door, on the office where Giraud’s azi Abban was at his accustomed desk.

  That was the first thing he saw. In the next split-second he saw the two Security officers and Abban was rising casually from his chair.

  He stopped cold. And looked at the nearer of the azi officers, eye to eye, calmly: Let’s be civilized. He took the next quiet step inside and let the door shut at his back.

  They had a body-scanner. “Arms out, ser,” the one on the left said. He obliged them, let them pass the wand over him. It found something in his coat pocket. The officer pulled out the paper napkin. Justin gave him a disparaging look in spite of the fact that his heart was going like a hammer and the air in the room seemed too thin.

  They satisfied themselves he was not armed. Abban opened the door and they took him through it.

  Giraud was not the only one there. Denys was. And Petros Ivanov. He felt his heart trying to come up his throat. One of the officers held him lightly by the arm and guided him to the remaining chair, in front of Giraud’s desk. Denys sat in a chair to the left of the desk, Petros to the right.

  Like a tribunal.

  And the Security men stayed, one with his hand on the back of Justin’s chair, until Giraud lifted a hand and told them to leave. But Justin’s ears told him someone had stayed when the door had shut.

  Abban, he thought.

  “You understand why you’re here,” Giraud said. “I don’t have to tell you.”

  Giraud wanted an answer. “Yes, ser,” he said in a muted voice.

  They’ll do what they damned well please.

  Why have they got Petros here? Unless they’re going to run a probe.

  “Have you got anything to say?” Giraud asked.

  “I don’t think I should have to.” He found a tenuous control of his voice. Dammit, get a grip on things.

  And like a wind out of the dark: Steady, sweet. Don’t give everything away.

  “I didn’t provoke that. God knows I didn’t want it.”

  “You could have damn well left.”

  “I left.”

  “After.” Giraud’s face was thin-lipped with anger. He picked up a stylus and posed it between his fingers. “What’s your intention? To sabotage the project?”

  “No. I was there like everyone else. No different. I was minding my own business. What did you do, prime her for that show? Is that it? A little show? Impress the Family? Con the press? I’ll bet you’ve got tape.”

  Giraud had not expected that. He gave away very little. Denys and Petros looked distressed.

  “The child wasn’t prompted,” Denys said quietly. “You have my word, Justin, it wasn’t prompted.”

  “The hell it wasn’t. It’s a damn good show for the news, isn’t it—just the sort of thing that makes great fodder for the eetees out there. The kid singles out the killer’s replicate. God! what a piece of science!”

  “Don’t bother to play for a camera,” Giraud said. “We’re not being taped.”

  “I didn’t expect.” He was shaking. He shifted his foot to relax his leg, to keep it from trembling. But, God, the brain was working. They were going to haul him off for another session, that was what they were working up to; and somehow that shook the fog out of his mind. “I imagine you’ll work me over good before I get to the cameras. But it’d be sloppy as hell to have me on the tape in that party and dropping right out again. Or turning up dead. Makes a problem for you, doesn’t it?”

  “Justin,” Petros said, a tone of appeal. “No one’s going to ‘work you over.’ That’s not what we’re about here.”

  “Sure.”

  “What we’re about,” Giraud said in a hard, clipped voice, “is one clear question. Did you cue her?”

  “You find your own answers. Write down whatever you want. Look at the damn tape.”

  “We have,” Giraud said. “Grant had eye contact with her. So did you, right before she moved.”

  Attack on a new target. Of course they got around to Grant. “What else were people looking at? What else were we there to look at? I looked at her. Did you think I’d come there and not? You saw me there. You could have told me to leave. But of course you didn’t. You set me up. You set up the whole thing. How many people in there knew it? Just you?”

  “You maintain you didn’t cue her.”

  “Dammit, no. Neither of us did. I asked Grant. He wouldn’t lie to me. He admits the eye contact. He was looking at her. ‘I got caught at it,’ was the way he put it. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t mine.”

  Petros stirred in his chair. Leaned toward Giraud. “Gerry, I think you have to take into account what I said.”

  Giraud touched the desk control. The screen tilted up out of the surface; he typed something with his right hand, likely a file-scan. Dataflow reflected off the metal on his collar, a flicker of green.

  Manipulation of more than data. Orchestrated, Justin told himself. The whole play. A little moment of suspense now. Secrets.

  And he still could not keep himself from reacting.

  Giraud read or mimed reading. His breathing grew larger. His face was no friendlier when he looked up. “You don’t like tapestudy. Odd, in a designer.”

  “I don’t damn well trust it. Can you blame me?”

  “You don’t even do entertainment tapes.”

  “I work hard.”

  “Let’s not have that kind of answer. You skipped out on your follow-ups with Petros. You don’t take tape more than once every month or so. That’s a damned strange attitude in a designer.”

  He said nothing. He had used all the glib answers.

  “Even Grant,” Giraud said, “doesn’t go into the lab for his. He uses a home unit. Not at all regulation.”

  “There’s no rule about that. If that satisfies him, it satisfies him. Grant’s bright, he’s got good absorption—”

  “It’s not your instruction to do that.”

  “No, it’s not my instruction.”

  “You know,” Petros said, “Grant’s self-sufficient, completely social. He doesn’t need that kind of reinforcement as often as some. But considering what he’s been through, it would be better if he took it deep. Just as a checkup.”

  “Considering what you put him through? No!”

  “So it is your instruction,” Giraud said.

  “No. It’s his choice. It’s his choice, he’s entitled, the same as I am, the last I heard.”

  “I’m not sure we need a designer-team that’s phobic about tape.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Easy,” Denys said. “Take it easy. Giraud, there’s nothing wrong with his output. Or Grant’s. That’s not at issue.”

  “There was more than one victim in Ari’s murder,” Petros said. “Justin was. Grant was. I don’t think you can ignore that fact. You’re dealing with someone who was a boy when the incident happened, who was, in fact, the victim of Ari’s own criminal act, among others. I haven’t wanted to press the issue. I’ve been keeping an eye on him. I’ve sent him requests to come in to talk. Is that true, Justin?”

  “It’s true.”

  “You haven’t answered, have you?”

  “No.” Panic pressed on him. He felt sick inside.

  “The whole situation with the Project,” Petros said, “has bothered you quite a bit, hasn’t it?”

  “Live and let live. I’m sorry for the kid. I’m sure you’ve got all the benefit of Security’s eavesdropping in my apartment. I hope you get a lot of entertainment out of the intimate bits.”

  “Justin.”

  “You can go to hell too, Petros.”

  “Justin. Tell me the truth. Are you still getting tape-flashes?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure.”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “You felt a lot of stress when you walked into the party, didn’t you?”

  “Hell, n
o. Why should I?”

  “I think that’s your answer,” Petros said to Giraud. “He came in there stressed. Both of them did. Ari had no trouble picking up on it. That’s all there is to it. I don’t think it was intended. I’m more disturbed about Justin’s state of mind. I think it’s just best he go back to his wing, and show up at family functions, and carry on as normally as he can. I don’t think anything useful is served by a probe. He’s carrying enough stress as it is. I do want him to come in for counseling.”

  “Giraud,” Denys said, “if you believe young Ari’s sensitivities, bear in mind she wasn’t afraid of Justin. Stressed as he was, she wasn’t afraid of him. Quite the opposite.”

  “I don’t like that either.” Giraud drew a breath and leaned back, looking at Justin from under his brows. “You’ll take Petros’ prescription. If he tells me you’re not cooperating, you’ll be tending a precip station before sundown. Hear me?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “You’ll go on working. If something takes you across Ari’s path, you speak to her or not according to your judgment, whichever will provoke the least curiosity. You’ll show up at Family functions. If she speaks to you, be pleasant. No more than that. You stray off that line, you’ll be in here again and I won’t be in a good mood. And that goes for Grant, just the same. You make it clear to him. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, ser.” Like any azi. Quiet. Respectful. It’s a trap. It’ll still close. There’s something more to this.

  “You can go. Open the door, Abban.”

  The door did open. He shoved himself out of his chair. Denys did the same. He made it as far as the door and Denys went out it with him, caught his arm, steered him past Security out into the small box of the entry hall and out again into the main corridor.

  Then Denys tugged him to a stop. “Justin.”

  He stayed stopped. He was shaking, still. But defiance did not serve anything.

  “Justin, you’re under a lot of pressure. But you know and I know—there’s no memory transfer. It’s not the old Ari. We don’t want, frankly, another case of animosity with the Warricks. We don’t want you taking Jordan’s part in this. You know what’s at stake.”

  He nodded.

  “Justin, listen to me. Giraud did the probe on you. He knows damned well you’re honest. He’s just—”

  “A bastard.”

  “Justin. Don’t make things hard. Do what Giraud says. Don’t make a mistake. You don’t want to hurt the little girl. I know you don’t. What Ari did to you—has nothing to do with her. And you wouldn’t hurt her.”

  “No. I never did anything to Ari, for God’s sake. You think I’d hurt a kid?”

  “I know. I know that’s true. Just think about that. Think about it the next time you have to deal with her. Ari tore you up. You can do the same thing to that child. You can hurt her. I want you to think seriously about that.”

  “I didn’t do anything to her!”

  “You didn’t do anything. Calm down. Calm down and take a breath. Listen to me. If you can handle this right, it could help you.”

  “Sure.”

  Denys took his arm again, faced him closer to the wall as Security left the office. Held on to him. “Justin. I wanted to tell you—the request that’s on my desk, the phone link: I’m going to give it a few weeks and then allow it. You’ll be on some kind of delay—Jordan’s clever, and Security has to have time to think. That’s the best I can do. Does that make you feel better?”

  “What’s it cost me?”

  “Nothing. Nothing. Just don’t foul it up. Stay out of trouble. All right?”

  He stared at the wall, at travertine patterns that blurred in front of his eyes. He felt Denys pat his shoulder.

  “I’m damn sorry. I’m damn sorry. I know. You haven’t had a day of peace. But I want you on the Project. That’s why I fought Giraud to keep you here. Ari liked you—no. Listen to me. Ari liked you. Never mind what she did. I know her—posthumously—as well as I know myself. Ari’s feud with Jordan was old and it was bitter. But she got your test scores and made up her mind she wanted you.”

  “They were faked!”

  “No, they weren’t. Not outstandingly high, you know that. But scattered through half a dozen fields. You had the qualities she had. Not her match, but then, you hadn’t had Olga Emory pushing you. She told me—personally—and this is no lie, son, that she wanted you in her wing, that you were better than the tests showed, a damned lot better, she said, than Jordan. Her words, not mine.”

  “Science wasn’t what she had in mind, you know that.”

  “You’re wrong. It’s not what you want to hear, God knows. But if you want to understand why she did what she did—that’s something you should know. I have one interest in this. Ari. Understand—she had cancer. Rejuv breakdown. The doctors argue whether the cancer kicked the rejuv or whether the rejuv was failing naturally and let the cancer develop. Whatever was going on, she knew she was in trouble and the timing couldn’t have been worse. Surgery would have delayed the project, so she put Petros and Irina under orders and covered it up. She set the whole project up, so that when she had to go for surgery—I’m sure she didn’t rule that out: she wasn’t a fool; but so when she did, it wouldn’t leave the subject without support, you understand, and it could run a few months with a light hand. Understand: I knew, because I was her friend, Justin. I was the one she allowed access to her notes. Giraud’s damn good at the money end of this. But my concern is her concern: the Project. I think you have your sincere doubts about it. No controls, no duplicatable result—But it’s founded on two centuries of duplicatable results with the azi. And of course it’s not the kind of thing that we can quantify: we’re dealing with a human life, an emotional dimension, a subjective dimension. We may disagree like hell, Justin, in there, in private, and I respect you for your professional honesty. But if you try to sabotage us, you’ll have me for an enemy. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “I’ll tell you another thing: Ari did some very wrong things. But she was a great woman. She was Reseune. And she was my friend. I’ve protected you; and I’ve protected her reputation by the same stroke; and damned if I’ll see some sordid little incident destroy that reputation. I’ll keep you from that. You understand me?”

  “You’ve got the tapes in the archives! If this poor kid halfway follows in Ari’s track, researchers are going to want every last detail—and that’s no small one.”

  “No. That won’t matter. That’s from the end of her life, beyond the scope of their legitimate interest. And even so, that’s why we’re working with Rubin. Rubin’s the one the military can paw over. Ari is our project. We keep title on the techniques. Did Reseune ever release anything—it has a financial interest in?”

  “My God, you can run that scam on the military for years. Admit it. It’s Giraud’s damn fund-raiser. His bottomless source of military projects.”

  Denys smiled and shook his head. “It’s going to work, Justin. We didn’t prompt her.”

  “Then tell me this: are you sure Giraud didn’t?”

  Denys’ eyes reacted minutely. The face did not. It went on smiling. “Time will prove it, won’t it? In your position, rather than be made a public fool, I’d keep my mouth shut, Justin Warrick. I’ve helped you. I’ve spoken for you and Jordan and Grant when no one else did. I’ve been your patron. But remember I was Ari’s friend. And I won’t see this project sabotaged.”

  The threat was there. It was real. He had no doubt of it. “Yes, ser,” he said in half a voice.

  Denys patted his shoulder again. “That’s the only time I’m going to say that. I don’t want ever to say it again. I want you to take the favor I’m doing you and remember what I told you. All right?”

  “Yes ser.”

  “Are you all right?”

  He drew a breath. “That depends on what Petros is going to do, doesn’t it?”

  “He’s just going to talk to you. That’s all.” Denys s
hook at him gently. “Justin,—are you getting tape-flashes?”

  “No,” he said. “No.” His mouth trembled. He let it. It made the point with Denys. “I’ve just had enough hell. The hospital panics me, all right? Do you blame me? I don’t trust Petros. Or anyone on his staff. I’ll answer his questions. If you want my cooperation, keep him away from me and Grant.”

  “Is that blackmail?”

  “God, I couldn’t have learned anything about that, could I? No. I’m asking you. I’ll do anything you want me to. I’ve got no percentage in hurting the kid. I don’t want that. I just want my job, I want the phone-link, I want to—”

  He lost his composure, turned and leaned against the wall until he had gotten his breath.

  Hand them all the keys, sweet, that’s right.

  Damn stupid.

  “You’ve got all that,” Denys said. “Look. You answer Petros’ questions. You try to work this thing out. You were a scared kid yourself. You’re still scared, and I’m terribly afraid all this did you more damage than you’re willing to have known—”

  “I can do my job. You said that.”

  “That’s not in question. I assure you it’s not. You don’t know who to trust. You think you’re all alone. You’re not. Petros does care. I do. I know, that’s not what you want to hear. But you can come to me if you feel you need help. I’ve told you my conditions. I want your help. I don’t want any accusations against Ari, the project, or the staff.”

  “Then keep Petros’ hands off me and Grant. Tell Security to take their damn equipment out. Let me live my life and do my work, that’s all.”

  “I want to help you.”

  “Then help me! Do what I asked. You’ll get my cooperation. I’m not carrying on a feud. I just want a little peace, Denys. I just want a little peace, after all these years. Have I—ever—done anyone any harm?”

  “No.” A pat on his shoulder, on his back. “No. You haven’t. Never anything. The harm was all against you.”

  He turned, leaning against the wall. “Then leave me alone, for God’s sake, let me talk to my father, let me do my work, I’ll be all right, just let me alone and get Security out of my bedroom!”

  Denys looked at him a long time. “All right,” he said. “We’ll try that awhile. We’ll try it, at least on the home front. I don’t say we won’t notice who comes and goes through your door. If something looks suspicious they’ll be on you. Not otherwise. I’ll give that order. Just don’t give me any cause to regret it.”