Reporters were waiting at the hotel. “Are you aware,” someone shouted, “of Khalid’s accusations, Councillor Nye?”
“We heard them on the way over,” uncle Giraud said, while Security maintained them a little clear space in the foyer, while cameramen jostled each other.
“I have an answer,” Ari said, ignoring Florian’s arm as he tried, with other Security, to get her and uncle Giraud on through the doors. “I want to answer him, can we set up in a conference room?”
“…Thank you,” the girl said, made a very young-girl move with both hands getting her hair back behind her shoulders, and then grimaced and shaded her eyes as a light hit her face. “Ow. Could you shine that down? Please?” Then she leaned forward with her arms on the conference table, suddenly businesslike and so like Emory senior that Corain’s gut tightened. “What’s your question?”
“What do you think about Khalid’s allegations?” some reporter yelled out over the others.
Chaos. Absolute chaos. The light swung back into the girl’s face and she winced. “Cut it off,” someone yelled, “we don’t need it.”
“Thanks.” As the light went off. “You want me to tell what I think about what the admiral says? I think he knows better. He used to be head of Intelligence. He sure ought to. It’s not real smart either, to say I’m programmed. I can write psych designs. He’s trying to run a psych on everybody, and I can tell you where, do you want me to count it off for you?”
“Go ahead,” voices yelled out.
The girl held up one finger. “One: he says there’s nothing in the files about a quarantine. He says he doesn’t know what’s in the files in Reseune: that’s what he’s complaining about. Whichever way it is, he’s either trying to trick you or he’s lying about what’s in the files.
“Two: he says my uncle tape-fed me the stuff. He doesn’t know any such thing. And in fact it’s not true.
“Three: he says I don’t understand what it could mean in international politics. Unless he knows what’s in those files, he doesn’t know as much as I do what it could mean.
“Four: he makes fun of the idea my predecessor left a program for me. That’s a psych. Funny stuff breaks your concentration and makes you not think real hard about what he’s really saying, which is that it’s impossible. It’s certainly possible. It’s a simple branching program with a voice-recognition and a few other security things I don’t want to talk about on vid, and I could write it, except for the scrambling, and that’s something my own security understands—he’s fifteen too. I’m sure Councillor Khalid does, if he was in Intelligence, so it’s a pure psych.
“Five: he says my uncles write all the stuff. That’s a psych like the first one, because he can just say that and then everybody wonders. I can give you one just exactly like it if I said Khalid won the election because he made up the rumor Gorodin was against the military retirement bill, and because of the way news goes out to the ships in space, and it being right before the vote, the vote was already coming back and being registered by the time Gorodin’s saying it wasn’t true even got to a lot of places. I heard that on the news. But I guess people forget who it is that makes up lies.”
“Oh, my God…” Corain murmured, and rested his head against his hands.
“I think that’s done it,” Dellarosa said. “I’d advise, ser, we hold a caucus without Defense. I think we need to draw up a position on this.”
Corain raked his hand through his hair.
“Dammit, he can’t even sue her for libel. She’s a minor. And that went out live.”
“I think the facts are, ser, the military may have had real practical reasons for preferring Khalid in spite of the rumor. But I think he’s taken major damage. Major damage. I wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t see a challenge from Gorodin. We need to distance ourselves from this. We need a position statement on these supposed secret files. We need it while this broadside barrage is still going on.”
“We need—” Corain said, “we need to call for a Science Bureau select committee to look into this, past Giraud Nye, to rule on the girl’s competency. But, dammit, you saw that performance. The girl got Khalid, extemp. He played a dirty little in-Bureau game he’d have gotten away with because no one could pin it on him or his staff—but no one’s going to forget it in that context.”
“Nye told her.”
“Don’t make that mistake. Khalid just did. And he’s dead. Politically, he’s dead. He can’t counter this one.”
“She could charge anyone with being in those damn files!”
“She could have charged Khalid. But she didn’t. Which probably means they exist and she’s going to produce them. Or she’s keeping her story clean…that she’s waiting on Council. I’ll tell you the other problem, friend. Khalid’s going to be a liability in that office.”
“Khalid’s got to resign.”
“He won’t! Not that one. He’ll fight to the bloody end.”
“Then I suggest, ser, before we even consider Gorodin, who’s stuck with the two-year rule, we explore who else might be viable for us inside that Bureau. How long do you think this is going to go? One bit of garbage floats to the surface—and other people start talking to the press. One more—and it becomes a race to the cameras.”
“Dammit.”
He had insisted Khalid take the hold off the news releases.
And there was no practical way to answer the charges, except to stall with the Bureau hearings. Which Nye could rush through at lightning speed. More exposure of the girl to the news-services.
No way. Withdraw opposition.
Then the girl got herself a full Council hearing.
And the repercussions of revelations on Gehenna went to the ambassadors from Alliance and from Earth.
The girl was not bluffing.
“One thing,” he said as Dellarosa was leaving, “one thing she absolutely beat him on. Find somebody in Defense who makes speeches people can understand, for God’s sake.”
iii
Justin watched and watched, every nuance, every shift in the replay. He had missed the whole afternoon, buried in the sociology lab; and he watched it now, once and twice, because the keyword response in the vid recorder had gotten all the references to the hearings, to Ari, to all the principals.
He shook his head, hands under chin, elbows on knees.
“Remarkably accurate retention,” Grant said, beside him on the couch. “For a CIT. She hit every point she wanted to make, certainly. And confused them about the rest.”
The tape reached Khalid’s second refutation, the cold, passionless statement that Ari had been prompted with that accusation by Giraud Nye, that Giraud used her as his voice because it was otherwise actionable.
Justin shook his head again. “He may have given it to her. But the kid’s sense of timing is impeccable.”
“Khalid mistook his opponent,” Grant said. “He thought that it was Giraud all along.”
“Vid off,” Justin said, and there was silence in the room.
Grant reached across and shook at his knee. “Do you think Khalid—is capable of harming her?”
“I think that man is capable of anything. I don’t know. He won’t move on—won’t move on her. She’s too hard a target. I’m going to call Denys.”
“Why?”
“CIT craziness. Politics. She’s too hard a target. Jordan works for Defense.”
Grant’s face went expressionless. Then showed shock.
“I don’t think we should put that through the Minder. We should go to him.”
“How in hell do we get an interview with Denys at this hour? There’s no way he’ll open the door to us.”
“Security,” Grant said after a moment. “We ask him to meet us in Security.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Denys said, the other side of the desk from them, themselves in two hard chairs, Seely standing by the wall, in the interview room.
Justin remembered the place—too well. “Ser, I—don’t call i
t an irrational fear. Order him not to answer any calls from the base.”
“We don’t need any moves against Defense on record,” Denys said. “That in itself—could call unwelcome attention to your father. Possibly you’re being alarmist…”
“Khalid has reason to want an incident, ser. And my father is sitting there without protection. They can tell him damned well anything. Can’t they?”
Denys frowned, thick fingers steepled, then interlocking. “Seely. Move on it. Now.”
“Yes,” Seely said, and left.
Grant rose from his chair, following Seely with his eyes. Then the thought came; and Justin stood up, suddenly facing two armed guards in the doorway.
“What is he going to do?” Justin asked, looking at Denys. “That wasn’t an instruction. What is he going to do?”
“Relax,” Denys said. “Relax, son. Sit down. Both of you. There are contingency plans. You’re not the first one to think of these eventualities. Seely understands my meanings perfectly well.”
“What contingencies?”
“Dear God, we certainly don’t intend any harm to your father. Sit down. Please. You have a very active imagination tonight.”
“What is he going to do?”
“He’s simply going to go to the front desk and they’ll transmit a code, which you don’t need to know, which simply advises Planys lab to go on extreme alert. That means Reseune Security trusts no one who is not Reseune Security. And no one comes in or goes out who’s not Reseune Security. We simply claim a laboratory incident. Very simple. Since Jordan has the highest-level Security flag at Planys—rest assured, he’s not available to any calls, except from us. Sit down.”
Justin sat, and Grant did.
“There,” Denys sighed. “Thank you. I appreciate your level of paranoia, Justin. It’s finely honed, God knows. I never undervalue a good set of nerves. Storm-sense. Seely—never needs the weather warnings. Isn’t that an odd thing—in a mind so rational?—What did you think of her?”
Off the flank and unforeseen. Justin bunked, instantly wary—and that in itself was a reaction he did not want. “Of Ari? Ari was brilliant. What else could she be?”
“I have a little pride invested in her,” Denys said. “You know she brought up her psych scores six points in less than a month, when the rascal got the notion she had to. I told the committee exactly that. And they wouldn’t believe she was laying back. Forgive me. I’m also extremely nervous until we get her back here safe, inside our perimeters.”
“So am I. Honestly.”
“I believe that. I truly do. I must tell you—our concern with your father has been in an entirely different context during this trip. I told you I would tell you—when Ari became aware of her predecessor’s—death.”
“You’ve told her, then.”
Denys bit his lip and studied his hands. “Not all of it. Not yet.” He looked up. “On the other hand—I sweated through that first interview. At one point I was sure Ari was going to say—in response to why the first Ari didn’t make better provision for passing on the information—that Ari was murdered. And then the reporter would have keyed right onto the relationship of the murder to that information—no valid connection, of course. But I felt for a split second that was exactly where it was going—and then Ari changed course. Thank God. I really don’t want her to hear the words ‘the Warrick case’ for the first time—in front of the cameras. Or in the hearings. She’s flying home tonight. Totally unscheduled departure, Science Bureau chase planes with full radar coverage. You see we’re likewise very paranoid. Giraud is, I think, going to break the news to her on the way. So I’ve warned you.”
iv
“Ari,” Giraud said, settling into the seat Florian had vacated for him, across from her, while RESEUNE ONE flew through the dark and there was nothing but stars out the windows—stars and the running lights of the planes Giraud said were flying with them.
Because they had to worry about electronic interference and all sorts of things that even Florian and Catlin frowned over. Because they had challenged a very dangerous, very desperate man who had all kinds of contacts, and because the world had crazy people in it who might try something and try to blame it on Defense.
She would be very glad, she thought, when she felt them touch down at Reseune. Enemies didn’t much bother her, except the kind who might aim another plane at you or take out your navigation or who might be Defense trying to blame it on extremists or extremists trying to blame it on Defense.
“We’re doing fine,” uncle Giraud said. “Radar’s perfectly clear. Our escort is enough to keep them honest. I imagine you’re anxious for your own bed tonight.”
Oh, damn, we’ve got the Minder checkout to go through when we get back to the apartment, and Florian and Catlin are tired as I am. I just want to go to bed. And I can’t sleep.
“I did worry today,” Giraud said, “about one thing I was afraid they were going to throw at you. That—we really haven’t wanted to go into. But I think—and Denys thinks—I’ve talked with him on the Bureau system—that you need to know.”
God, get to it!
“You know your predecessor was murdered. And that it was somebody in Reseune.”
“Who?”
“A man named Jordan Warrick.”
She blinked and felt the sting of exhaustion in her eyes. There was only one Warrick at Reseune she had ever met. “Who’s Jordan Warrick?”
“A Special. The absolute authority in educational design. Justin Warrick’s father.”
She rubbed her eyes and slid up a little in her seat, looking at Giraud.
“I didn’t want you to find that out in front of the cameras. I certainly don’t want you to find it out from Council next week. Jordan and Ari had personal and professional difficulties; and political ones. He accused Ari of tampering with his work and taking credit from him—as he saw it. They quarreled—Do you want to hear this in detail?”
She nodded.
“Most likely, and he claims this was the case, it wasn’t premeditated. They fought—a physical fight—and she hit her head—at which point he panicked and tried to cover up what had happened. It happened in the cold lab down in Wing One basement. The section is very old, the cryogenics conduits are completely uncovered; he created a break, blew the line, shut the door—it still swings, it has to do with the way the building settled, and the door is unfixable; but we’ve disabled the lock. In short, Ari froze to death in a release of liquid nitrogen from a pipe rupture. It was relatively painless; she was unconscious from the blow. Jordan Warrick—being a Special—had a Council hearing. It was an absolutely unprecedented case—Specials don’t commit murder. And his mind—whatever his faults—is protected by law. He did agree to accept a transfer out of Reseune. He lives at Planys. Justin does visit him now and again.”
“Did he know about it?”
“Justin didn’t have any idea what was going to happen. He was only seventeen. He’d attempted—using resources of his father’s—to smuggle Grant out of Reseune and into Novgorod—Jordan wanted to get the directorate at RESEUNESPACE, and Grant’s status as an X-number meant it might have been hard to get him to go with them. But it went wrong, the contacts Justin used—friends of his father—happened to have ties to the Abolitionists, who attempted a very misguided intervention with Grant. I’ve always entertained a private suspicion that Grant figured in the argument Jordan had with Ari. Grant had to be rescued; he was in hospital that night, in very precarious shape—and Justin was visiting him about the time the murder happened, so there’s no question about Justin’s whereabouts. He had no idea his father was going to see Ari. He certainly had no notion what his father would do.”
She felt a little sick at her stomach. “He’s my friend.”
“He was seventeen when all this happened. Just two years older than you are. None of it was his fault. He lives at Reseune—his father lives at Planys under a kind of perpetual arrest. You understand, I think, why we’ve been very anx
ious about your contacts with him. But he’s never initiated them; he’s been very careful to follow the rules that let him live at Reseune. He was able to finish his education; he’s made a home at Reseune, he causes no one any trouble, and it didn’t seem fair to punish him for something which absolutely was none of his doing, or to send him where he wouldn’t have the facilities to pursue his work. He’s very bright. He’s a very troubled man, a very confused one, sometimes, but I hope he’ll work out his own answers. Most of all we’ve worried about the chance he would do something or say something to hurt you—but he never has. Has he?”
“No.” Remember the source, Ari senior would say, had said, advising her how to deal with deceptions. Remember the source. “Why didn’t he go to Fargone? Valery did. Valery was only four years old and he never hurt anybody.”
“Frankly we wanted Justin where we could see him,” Giraud said, going right past the matter of Valery. Of course. “And we didn’t want him in prolonged contact with any ship crew or within reach of outside communications. His father’s friends—are Rocher and that crowd, the Abolitionists—who are one of the reasons we have that escort flying off our wings.”