by Tom Clancy
"Which version?" Nick said.
Wringscalpel looked surprised, 'then smiled. "London 2024."
"The other side, / where the shadows hide, / and the dark no longer falls: the night of pain, / when the final chord / Comes breaking through the walls!"
"Hey, you're serious about this," Wringscalpel said. "Are you sure I can't ask you your favorite color?" "No! Get on with it!"
"What is Joey's middle name?"
"The one on his birth certificate," Nick said, "or the one from the press release?"
Wringscalpel grinned. "The birth certificate."
Nick swallowed. "Illusion," he said.
"There you go," said Wringacalpel, and began to grow.
The floor of the place shook. The disco ball hanging from the ceiling of the Party Room started to tremble, and stalactites of crystal and onyx began to fall from way above it, causing screams among the partying multitudes, who scattered in every direction, but then returned to the dance floor as if driven there with whips.
Wringacalpel, though, was paying all of this no attention. His uniform was tearing and shredding away, falling to the floor, as the demon grew, lost his potbelly, gained wings that lost the toy look they had worn earlier and now looked seriously functional, gigantic pinions, that spread above him and out to either side. He cried a great cry that shook down more stalactites.
"Is he angry?" Charlie shouted at Nick over the din of the music, the screaming dancers, the crash of falling crystal.
Wringscapel heard this and laughed. "Angry? You kidding?" he said. "I get a bonus for this." He held out his huge hands, and suddenly they were filled with a flaming sword that lit the whole place blindingly in actinic blue-white fire. "And now I get to leave this job to somebody else, while I go up to Seven and kick some-"
"Yeah, great, later!" Nick shouted, and dodged under his arm, past him, through the suddenly open door.
Charlie and Mark followed him in a hurry. Past Wringscapel, on the other side of the door, it was as dark as the inside of a dog, and involuntarily Charlie looked behind them, back toward the light.
"Whoever's behind us, they can't follow us in here unless they pass the test," Nick said.
"Yeah, and what if they know the answers, too?" Mark said, looking around him in the darkness with some concern.
"There's still one thing I don't think they'll do," said Nick. "Come on!"
He ran into the dark. More slowly they went after him, but their eyes were getting used to the dimness now. They were in a huge, huge cave, the size of a sports stadium, its stony ceiling lost above them.
"What are we supposed to be doing?" Mark said. "Looking for the Lady," said Nick.
Charlie looked at him as they ran. " 'She left the party early'…" he said. "Or something like that."
"Something like that. We have to find her. She's the key."
"Shouldn't be hard, there's nobody but us in… uhoh."
There were eyes in the darkness. They glowed. The predatory eyes blinked slowly and looked thoughtfully at the three of them.
"Ignore them," Nick said. "Look for a single light by itself."
It was hard. They walked on through the darkness, and it got hot and stifling, and the eyes pressed in close around them, and they could all hear breathing… Charlie shook his head at the oppressive quality of the illusion. And he stopped, then, hearing footsteps behind him.
"There," Nick said. He pointed. One light, distant-not horizontal like the lights around them, but vertical, not green, but a pure white.
"What's the rush?" said a soft voice from behind them.
Charlie turned, and there she was, Shade, looking at him with an expression that was almost sad… but not quite.
I can't have more than fifteen minutes left, Charlie thought. I've lost track. All I can do now is stall, keep her talking…
"Kalki told me you ran off without a word," she said. "Without even looking at him! He didn't mean to frighten you, really… he was just going to give you a ride."
And she's got to do more than just talk. "Was he?" Charlie said. "And what would we have done then? He and I. Or the three of us. If there really are two of you…"
"Why, talk," Shade said. "What else would happen?" "I have two words for you," Charlie said. "Scorbutal cohydrobromate."
She looked at Charlie, and her eyes widened.
Not enough. "And a white cotton sweater," Charlie said. "It must have been very new, one of those teased-cotton ones… because it shed all over Richard Delano's rug."
The look on her face went horrified for a moment, just for a flicker. Then she got hold of herself again and smiled very slowly, a knowing smile. "Scorbutal? Someone your age," she said, "shouldn't be messing around with drugs, Manta. Your folks would be shocked to find out about it. Maybe some responsible adult should tell them what she thinks you've been up to, hmm? How you tried to buy some from her?"
He went hot with fury.
"But it doesn't matter," Shade said. Charlie stared at her, kept his mouth shut. "There are always other people to work with, aren't there? It's not like suicide is going to go away. There are always mixed-up kids who stumble into nasty places like this." She looked around her with scorn, at the eyes pressing in close. "Or going to incredible trouble to work themselves deep down into them. Places full of sick images and soul-destroying music and ugly ideas. Who would be surprised when kids who spend a lot of time in a place come to grief? No one would be surprised at all."
She looked at Nick and Mark. "It's nice to see you've picked up a couple of friends here, finally," Shade said. "But there will always be people who need friends, and aren't so spiteful and suspicious. For them… I'll always be here. Until Deathworld shuts down, some day. Maybe some day very soon… because, if there's justice, nothing lasts forever."
That smile again: self-satisfied, controlling. Charlie would have loved to have an excuse to punch her in the nose. But then he realized he didn't need to… and he stood quite still, and smiled just a little himself. He couldn't help it.
And a second later he had the satisfaction, as hot as the fury had been a moment before, of seeing her eyes go wide, as she stared at the man and woman who suddenly caught hold of her "seeming" from both sides. "Net Force," said the woman. "We have some questions we need to ask you, please, so if you'd come this way-"
There were suddenly about six other Net Force operatives there as well, all in their usual dark suits and coverslicks, and they closed in on the group. "You kids all right?" one of them said.
In the background Shade was shouting, "What? Who are you? This is an outrage! I want a lawyer-"
"Uh, we're fine," Nick said, looking around at the ruckus with some surprise. He looked at Mark and Charlie. "But how'd they get in here without answering the questions?"
"Either a search warrant," Mark said, looking at them with relief, "Or a 'back door.' Does it matter?" He looked at Shade as the agents walked her away. "Looks like it's gonna be a real interesting debrief. Here, wait a minute… " he said to the agent who had spoken to Charlie.
Mark reached up and helped Charlie out of the Magic Jacket.
"Thanks, Squirt," Charlie said as Mark handed the jacket to the operative.
"It's still live," Mark said. "The evidential trail is still hot, so you'll want to lock it down when you get it back into the examination space at HQ."
"Thank you," said the op.
"And," said another voice out of the darkness, "I would appreciate it if someone would give me an explanation of what's been going on here…"
Jay Gridley came striding out of the dark-a lithe, intent-looking Thai-American man, in a business suit and tie. Right now, though, the intentness was mostly concentrated on his son. Mark was looking a little sheepish. "Uh, hi, Dad," he said, "you see, Charlie came to me with a problem-"
"Excuse me," said a quiet voice from out of the darkness behind them, "but were you looking for me?"
They all turned. The Goddess of Virtue stood there looking at the
m, while lifting up a long pale veil that had covered her face and head. Astraea was astonishingly beautiful, a tall and slender woman all robed in Greek-classical white, and her expression was severe, intelligent, and a little sorrowful.
Jay Gridley smiled slightly. "Uh, yes, ma'am. Routinely."
"Yeah," Nick said. "Mostly to say, don't go… "
"But there is nowhere for me to stay," she said sadly. "My only dwelling is in the hearts of men, and all of mankind is wicked… "
They looked at one another. "If you wait about two seconds," Charlie said, "not all… because a baby'll be born somewhere."
She smiled at him. It was like the sun coming up. "Thank you," Astraea said. "I think I'll stay."
They were all quiet a moment. "Which way to the Ninth Circle?" Nick said at last.
"There is none," Astraea said. "Or rather, this is it. This is Despair, after all. But after this… you go out the far side. That way." She pointed, and suddenly there was a little light away off in the darkness, like an open door.
"Uh, thanks," Mark said. He was a little bemused as he said it, for Astraea had draped her former veil around her neck like a scarf, and now she reached around behind her into the darkness and came out with a sword and a pair of scales.
"And now," she said cheerfully, "back to the day job. See you later… "
She vanished.
Mark looked up at his father. "You know her, Dad?"
he said.
"You kidding?" said Jay Gridley softly, but with some amusement, as he looked at the distant light. "She's one of my bosses." Then he looked down at his son, and his face acquired a severity more like that of Justice's. "Meanwhile… you and I need to talk. Briefly, because I have to get back to work. But later on we are going to have a long discussion… "
Mark arid his father vanished. Mark's expression was mostly unrepentant, despite his father's sternness. All Charlie thought it was wise to do was nod and grin just a little. When they were gone, Charlie started to turn toward Nick…
… and everything dissolved in a mist of light, back to a white plain and blue sky. A great voice came from the heavens and said to Charlie, "Thank you for using Net Access. You have come to the end of your purchased access time for this session. Please see the customer representative for more time.. or inquire about one of our monthly billing accounts!"
And suddenly he was sitting in the implant chair again… and behind him, there was a little cchk! noise as the door of the suite unlocked itself and slid open.
Charlie was on his feet in about a second, and out into the hallway. There he stopped, openmouthed with surprise.
The place was full of uniformed police. Two of them, right then, along with a dark-suited woman in plain clothes wearing the inimitable Net Force ID, were escorting out someone in handbinders. She was of medium height, dark-haired with some gray sprinkled through it, a little pudgy, maybe about forty. She was a profoundly ordinary-looking person, one he would have passed in the street a hundred times and never noticed. She looked ordinary, like a mother… and she was wearing a soft, fuzzy white short-sleeved cotton sweater.
There he lost his train of thought, for two more Net Force ops, a man and a woman, came walking down the hall toward Charlie.
"Charlie Davis?" one of them said.
"Uh, yes."
"Your father wants to see you," said the woman op. "Right now."
Ooops.
He walked outside, past the shocked-looking counter guy, and saw his dad standing there. By a police car-his mother was just getting out of another. The street was full of people slowing down to rubberneck, or standing there watching and talking. It looked like a disaster area.
He was afraid the disaster was going to be his.
But Charlie couldn't say a word for the moment. The relief, and the fear, and a host of other emotions, had all come crashing down on him together as he walked out of that booth and saw her-the woman who was Shade, or Kalki, or both-being taken away from the next booth to the one he had been in. The next booth-! Charlie went over to his mother and father, and they closed in on him, and he grabbed them both and hugged them hard.
"We're going to talk about this later," his father said, very low. "A lot. But I want to hear all of your side first."
"Thanks, Dad," Charlie said.
"But I notice that someone else is wearing the handcuffs," his mother said, "so I guess we can assume that you've been doing something that's going to make us proud."
Boy, I hope so, Charlie thought as they walked him away.
It was a long, long talk they had, and one that was going to take more than one evening to resolve. Charlie realized that when he was in bed that night, suffering from near-terminal embarrassment and upset, and at the same time, great pride… for word came down on the late news that evening that the cases of all the Deathworld "suicides" were being reopened. Additionally, after a very belated session with his mother's hot and spicy ribs (most of the dressing-down he suffered had happened while they were all in the kitchen together, and she was cooking), the vidphone went off. His father went to get it and didn't come back for something like twenty minutes.
"Who was it, honey?" Charlie's mother said.
"Jay Gridley," said Charlie's dad. He sat down and began to toy with one last rib he hadn't touched during dinner.
Charlie didn't say anything, though he very much wanted to-every word he had said, earlier, had seemed to trigger some new and interesting strain of the basic argument. "He says," Charlie's dad said, turning to Charlie, "that you may have saved ten or twenty people's lives."
Charlie swallowed.
"He also says you're to see James Winters tomorrow morning at eight," said his dad. "I assume that won't interfere with school?"
"Uh.. no."
"Good. Let us know what happens… "
"Uh, I will."
And that had been all. Charlie had gone to bed in a very subdued mood. But he had not been able to avoid seeing the look his mother and father exchanged as he'd gone upstairs. It had been worried, frightened, relieved… but not angry.
The next morning, having left his workspace and taken his seat in Winters's office, he wondered if being spared last night had simply left him mostly intact for a more thorough reaming-out today. Mark Gridley was there when Charlie got there, and he, too, was looking rather pale.
For a minute or two Winters just sat behind his desk, looking over documentation that was scrolling through the virtual window hanging nearby. Finally he shook his head and sat back, and looked at the two of them.
"Well," he said. "It's taken me the better part of last night and this morning, but I've finally finished reviewing the forensic and other information that our fast-response team went out to act on yesterday." He sighed. "Mark has already finished his debrief, but since he acted as 'enabler' for you on this, Charlie, I thought it might be wise to have him here to sketch in any details there necessary. Does that meet with your approval?"
"Uh, yes, sir."
"With one note," said Winters. "The wild, I would say profligate, illegality of a lot of Mark's 'enabling' needs to be stressed here. I would have thought," he said to Mark, "that after the last time, I wouldn't need to have this discussion with you again. But I see that no human agency can possibly predict your actions. You, I'm just going to have to refer back to your father. Again."
Mark didn't quite squirm.
"Don't bother trying to play to the stands quite so blatantly," Winters said. "There is no one in the stands but me, and I am not cheering."
He looked slowly over at Charlie. "Meanwhile," Winters said, "your mother is a very understanding woman." "She is? I mean, yes, sir, she is… "
"Because she has not herself assisted in having you committed," Winters said, "on finding out what you've been up to these past couple of weeks. I seem to remember you telling me that, as soon as you came across any information concrete enough to warrant action, that you would let me know."
The silence settled down
heavy. "I didn't think it was concrete enough yet," Charlie said, his voice sounding even smaller than he was afraid it would. "It needed to be tested."
"Using yourself as bait," Winters said.
"When you're hunting polar bear," said Charlie, "that's the only bait that's any good."
Winters looked at him hard for a moment. Then he sat back and rocked a little in his chair. "This much I'm going to give you," he said. "You were right about one thing. The woman you caught was definitely getting ready to do it again. Immediately. Besides the stun gun, we found a big spray can of sco-bro in the front seat of her car. And all the ropes and ligatures you could have desired were in the trunk, ready to use."
Charlie shivered. "It's still May," he said.
"Yes," said Winters. "That much you're right about. But why?"
Charlie blinked. "Why is it May?"
"I mean," Winters said, "why was she attacking these kids in May?"
Charlie shook his head. "I never did figure that out," he said.
"Because," said Winters softly, "that's very close to when her son committed suicide."
Charlie's eyes widened. "Richard-"
"Exactly wrong," said Winters, annoyed. "Don't guess, Charlie. There's been too much guessing in this, not enough precise use of data. Fatal for a doctor."
Charlie swallowed.
"Mitch Welles," said Winters.
"He was the first one," Charlie said. "April of 2023-" He shook his head.
"April," Winters said. "Not May. Now, Maureen Welles had… well, not exactly a collapse after her son died. But she wasn't well. After she recovered, she went on a campaign to prove that her son had been induced to kill himself by something that had been done to him in Deathworld. She spent all her efforts trying to get the legislation that I told you about through Congress. It didn't get her anywhere. She was sure that there was a conspiracy against her, but as I said, the only conspirator against her that anyone can identify was the Congressional calendar. And her own single-mindedness." He let out a long breath. "Her marriage went to pieces in the middle of it all. She and her husband separated-he said, because chasing down her son's murderer had become her entire life."
Winters went on rocking in his chair for a few moments, scowling at his desk.