"Deals become tiresome after a while," Morrow had sighed, his characteristic smile slipping. Underneath he looked much older than usual — certainly a deliberate affectation, since he no longer had a true face to reveal. "Even for someone like me, who thrives on them."
"Then what is it?" O'Dell had asked.
"Justice."
"I don't know about that," O'Dell said carefully, "but a trial I can guarantee you. The High Court will probably regard your processor as a form of life-support to avoid any unnecessary precedents. If found guilty, you'll be sentenced to one of our penal institutions — although exactly what amenities you'll have will be up to the judge. Hard labour is out of the question, of course, and I don't think we'll trust you with menial data processing instead. You'll be given something to do, though, or else we'll be contravening the human rights laws on sensory deprivation."
Morrow nodded solemnly. "That sounds fair."
"Does it?" O'Dell raised an eyebrow. "You're not really in any position to bargain."
"You misunderstand me. I have taken a great risk handing myself to you like this. If I didn't believe that I could trust you, then I would never have contacted you at all. That's what I meant by 'fair'. All I ask is that I be given a chance to repay my debts."
"If that's so," O'Dell had replied, "then we're going to get along famously."
"Indeed." Morrow had terminated the conversation shortly after that point, apparently satisfied with the arrangements.
Even now, Barney still couldn't believe it had happened so easily. Kennedy's most notorious underworld figure had turned himself over to the newly appointed government without so much as a fight. Of all the things she had guessed would happen, this hadn't even crossed her mind. As a coda to the events of the previous few days, it was surreal.
She frowned, wishing Roads was there to share the moment.
"Well," said O'Dell eventually, breaking the silence. "I'll organise the squad outside to collect your hardware and take it to base camp, where it'll be safe for the time being. When we head back to Philadelphia, you'll come with us."
"Whatever you wish." Morrow shrugged with his eyebrows. "My all-too-mortal remains, complete with original packaging, lie on the floor behind you. I advise you to treat it gently. Destroy the contents of the crate, and you effectively destroy me, too."
Barney glanced over at the box she had studied on her way into the bar. Roads' description of it in terms of a coffin portrayed it and its contents all too vividly.
"I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing," O'Dell drawled, with a certainty Barney could not have mustered.
"I'm glad to hear it," Morrow said. "And now, if you'll forgive me, I will spare myself the indignity of seeing myself hauled away. If you require my attention, I can be aroused by a short burst of white noise on the FM band. Otherwise, I will not speak to you until we reach base camp."
The Head closed his eyes, clearly for effect, and said: "Goodnight."
"Wait!" Barney held up a hand, and Morrow's eyes reopened. "I want to ask you about Phil."
"Yes?" Morrow inclined his head.
"Where is he? Do you know?"
"Answering that question would require breaking a confidence," said Morrow. "What Phil does, or chooses not to do, is his own business."
"But — "
With one last, enigmatic smile, the Head flickered and went out.
O'Dell exhaled heavily, then drained the champagne left in his glass in one gulp. "Thank God," he said. "I kept waiting for him to spring something at the last moment."
Barney forced herself to speak through teeth clenched tight with frustration. "He might still do that."
"Unlikely," said a voice from behind her.
She spun to face its source. O'Dell dropped the glass and drew his pistol in one movement.
Someone was standing in the shadows.
"Phil?"
Roads raised his hands and stepped into the light.
The first things Barney noticed were the mottled bruises on his face and the arm in a sling beneath his coat. He was dressed in jeans, boots and coat — clothes he must have borrowed from one of Morrow's ex-employees — and carried himself stiffly. But the most dramatic change was to his hair: it was cropped short to match where it had burned away in the explosion, and his moustache was gone. He looked like an entirely different person. Only his eyes, with their deceptive contact lenses, were the same.
A red dot of light wavered in the centre of his forehead.
"Hello, Martin," he said with a slight smile.
The red dot vanished and the pistol disappeared back into O'Dell' pocket. "Better late than never, I guess."
"Where the hell have you been?" Barney asked, hiding her relief behind a facade of anger.
"Busy," he said.
"Too busy to let me know you were okay?"
He winced. "I didn't want to run out on you, Barney, but there was something I had to do."
"Like convince Keith Morrow to turn himself in?" asked O'Dell.
Roads looked uncomfortable. "It wasn't that simple."
"I can imagine." The RUSAMC captain moved across the room to examine the crate. "But thanks anyway."
Roads frowned and wiped a hand across his face. To Barney he seemed slightly dazed, as though he had only just woken from a deep sleep.
"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned.
He looked at her. "Never been better, never been worse." For a moment, she thought he was about to move closer, perhaps to touch her, but he didn't. "We need to talk," he said.
"Here?"
"Alone, if possible."
She looked over her shoulder at O'Dell. "Martin, do you mind?"
"Not at all. I'll get the squad and organise the crate. You can talk outside while we do that, if you like."
"Actually, I'd prefer to go elsewhere," Roads said. "Away from here." He glanced at Barney. "Do you want to come for a walk?"
Barney studied him closely, searching for any sign of deception. All she saw was weariness etched bone-deep. For the first time, he actually looked close to his real age. Unlike Morrow, however, she was sure it was genuine.
There was something about him that made her think twice. A tension she couldn't fathom.
"I guess so," she said. "But no funny business. I haven't forgiven you yet."
"Understandable. At least give me a chance to explain." To O'Dell he said: "If we're not back before you leave — "
"Don't worry." O'Dell tossed Barney a key from his pocket. "Take the jeep. I'll hitch a lift with the squad. We can swap notes later, when you're ready."
Barney fingered the key apprehensively for a moment. "Thanks, Martin," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Any time." The RUSAMC captain smiled warmly. "I'll see you two later."
"Definitely," she replied, hurrying to where Roads waited for her. A slight limp didn't impede his progress as he turned and made for the exit.
"Probably," he said.
Ignoring the look of curiosity she cast at him, he led them out of the bar and into the rain.
* * *
Roads gave directions while Barney drove. She handled the unfamiliar controls of the RUSAMC vehicle cautiously at first, but with growing confidence. The powerful electric engine growled as she put her foot to the accelerator, propelling them swiftly through the wilderness of the harbour.
She could sense Roads' need to talk, but let him make the move. She knew him well enough — or hoped she did — to understand that he would talk when the time was right.
"I've been out of touch the last day or so," he finally said. "Have I missed anything exciting?"
"This and that," she said, thinking he was trying to lighten the mood. Then she noticed that he was serious. "How far behind are you?"
"Too far. Morrow's network crashed when the Mole exploded. You must have noticed that, because his version of PolNet went down too."
"We did wonder what was going on."
"So did I. Then Raoul cont
acted me on an emergency band and filled me in. That's when I discharged myself from the medical unit and came down here."
She pulled a face. "Have I told you how annoyed I am about that yet?"
"You don't need to." He half-smiled. "But you weren't around to talk to at the time, and I didn't want to leave a message. It was bound to have been misinterpreted."
"Probably." She turned a corner he indicated. "I was at Mayor's House when you left, sitting in on the close of the emergency session. Have you heard about that?"
"No. They wouldn't tell me anything in the RSD medical unit, except to keep still."
Barney smiled at the image, then took a deep breath and began at the beginning.
The aborted assassination attempt and the siege of Mayor's House had dominated the news, of course. In the chaos that had followed Cati's attack on General Stedman, the Mayor had over-reacted disgracefully — a fact he had admitted in a special sitting of the Council, held an hour after the siege had been broken. A serious battle between RSD and the MSA had only been averted by the RUSAMC's second Cherubim prototype, which had confronted the Mayor in his private chambers and forced him to negotiate.
Barney had watched from the security control room while the Council, four of General Stedman's aides and every department head of Kennedy Polis had viewed O'Dell's recording of Roads' confrontation with DeKurzak. The liaison officer's confession, and his ultimate demise, had been played unedited from beginning to end, with only a small break midway to discuss the ramifications of the news.
The Mayor had sat through the recording with his hands tightly folded, his face pale. When it had finished, he had called an hour-long recess to discuss the situation with Stedman's aides.
It was during that time, O'Dell had told her, that he had been played the additional feed Roads had sent.
"I still can't work out how you knew," she said. "There's no mention anywhere in the footage you took of DeKurzak."
"No, there isn't." Roads looked at his hands. "I followed a hunch, and it paid off."
"A pretty big hunch, calling the Mayor a traitor."
"It worked, though, didn't it? DeKurzak couldn't have been working on his own. Yes, he was Cati's controller, and yes, he had his own long-term goals — but in the short term, he was just another pawn caught up in the Mayor's little game."
"Easy to say in retrospect," she commented.
"It didn't hit me until DeKurzak told Betheras Cati was needed at Mayor's House," Roads said. "The only messages crossing the city the night of the siege were Keith's, Stedman's, and the coded signals leaving Mayor's House by landline. The Mayor was communicating with him all the time, so the Mayor knew what he was doing.
"Once I'd made that connection, the rest fell into place. It explained Packard's sudden reversal of policy after the arrival of Stedman's envoy, and the siege of Mayor's House he instigated. The Mayor only let the Reunited States into the city in order to kick them out later, by force if necessary. And DeKurzak was an integral part of that plan. That's why the Mayor supported his every move."
Barney drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "DeKurzak admitted that he was planning to shaft the Mayor, at some point."
"To assume control himself, I presume."
"I still can't work out why, though. He'd lose his power base the moment he opened the Wall — and he'd have to, just to survive. The city wouldn't last, otherwise."
"Did you actually see the second feed I sent?" Roads asked.
She shook her head. "No, but Martin told me what was in it."
"He obviously didn't tell you everything. You haven't brought up Betheras yet."
"I don't follow you."
Roads' eyes didn't leave her. "DeKurzak and Betheras were working together. Did you ever wonder what Betheras stood to gain?"
"I assumed he was an interventionist, as Martin calls it, gunning for military solutions rather than negotiation."
"He may have been once," Roads said, "but not this time. That would have put him and DeKurzak at odds. No, I think he — perhaps both of them — were wrecking the Reassimilation so that one of the Reunited States' enemies could move in instead."
Barney absorbed this in silence. The possibility made her head reel. "Fucking hell."
"That's what I thought," Roads said. "But it makes sense. Kennedy has enormous strategic value. It stands to reason that someone else would want it."
"Who? I didn't know there was anyone else out there."
"There are at least two other major nations," Roads explained, "and we lie midway between the States and one of them. I learned about the New Mexican Alliance from Martin's files, although I never suspected that hostilities had reached this point. Betheras had probably been spying for them for some time, and came to Kennedy with the original envoy specifically to look for allies. Whether or not he found DeKurzak then, and they worked together throughout the whole of Cati's spree, we can only guess. All we know for certain is that they came to some sort of agreement at the end."
"Both of them hoping to give the Mayor an excuse to throw Stedman out of the city," Barney said, continuing the thought. "Then, when the dust had settled down, and everyone had got used to the idea of opening the city, Betheras' friends could make a more tempting offer."
"No doubt DeKurzak stood to gain a lot out of it," Roads said. "Power, or money."
"No doubt both of them did." Barney shook her head. "And they deserved everything they got."
"Betheras is dead too?" Roads asked.
"No. He's still in intensive care, in a coma. Here's hoping the sonofabitch doesn't pull through."
Roads grimaced. "Is there any evidence he tampered with the Mole's programming, given he worked for Project Cherubim?"
"Martin doubts it. The specialists think the Mole's internal conflict was genuine, not faked. What's possible, though, is that Betheras gave advice, supposedly to fix the conflict, that actually made it worse, such as when the Mole was ordered to kill Cati."
"Logical," Roads said. "The more the Mole misbehaved, the greater the damage done to Stedman when its origins were discovered."
Barney nodded, remembering the events on Patriot Bridge. After the confrontation with Cati, the explosion that had destroyed the Mole had torn a large chunk out of the bridge. She, along with O'Dell and the rest of her squad, had been lucky to escape the hail of debris that had fallen from the maintenance tower. And luckier still that the section of the bridge below them hadn't collapsed under the strain.
"You haven't finished telling me what happened at the emergency session," Roads said, bringing her back to the present.
She forced herself to continue the story. Whatever he had to say was obviously going to wait a little longer.
The Mayor had returned from his discussion with Stedman's aides to table a motion that a number of judicial decisions be added to the public record. Given the timing of the crimes and the need to minimise public unrest, plus the fact that at least two of the suspects were known to be dead or dying, the need for a trial could be circumvented by the Council's emergency powers. That way, the cases could be closed, the trouble forgotten, and more important matters dealt with without further delay.
It was a shrewd move on the Mayor's part, even without the knowledge of the second feed taken into account. Between the Mole, Cati and the RUSA, the Council had suddenly realised how vulnerable the city was while the Reassimilation issue remained unresolved. DeKurzak's apparent betrayal — and his own involvement with the RUSAMC — had hammered home the fact that the sooner the situation was dealt with, the better it would be for everyone.
Knowing what Roads had said about the true relationship between DeKurzak and Packard, however, she could guess what had really happened in the private chambers. The Mayor hadn't been discussing options; he had received an ultimatum. Betheras was to be sacrificed in order to draw attention away from the person who had sent the Mole in the first place — which was Stedman himself. That way the RUSA could avoid a public backlash. If
Packard didn't do as he was told, then the truth would come out about his relationship with DeKurzak, and he would lose everything.
Making DeKurzak a scapegoat allowed Packard a way out of a very sticky situation, even if it did mean letting the Reassimilation go ahead after all. To keep his own involvement secret, he rushed the motion past the council so quickly that no-one had time to ask themselves why they were letting Stedman off so easily.
The Council debated the motion for less than an hour. With the support of Senior Councillor Norris and the other Reassimilationists, it was voted in with a two-thirds majority. Half an hour after that, the fait accompli had become a part of official city history.
"And the motion was ...?" asked Roads.
She knew it by heart: "Betheras and DeKurzak were found guilty of espionage, murder, conspiracy to commit murder and treason. Everybody else caught in the crossfire — including Margaret and Roger — were acquitted of all charges."
"And me?"
She took great pleasure in saying: "Innocent of murder and conspiracy to commit murder."
Roads sat in silence for a moment. His face was grim.
"Aren't you pleased?" she asked, disappointed by his reaction. "You're off the hook. You can come out of hiding any time you like, now."
He didn't reply immediately. Instead he pointed through the windscreen at the ruins of what had once been a row of shops and said: "Stop there. We'll walk the rest of the way."
* * *
Barney pulled the jeep to a halt where he had indicated. "Why here?" she asked.
"Humour me."
Roads climbed out of the seat, feeling every sore bone from his neck to his ankles. The rain had eased, but the wind was strong enough to make speech awkward. The noise it made reminded him of distant times: of tents on battlefields, of nights waiting for orders, of the betrayals both small and large that his life seemed mostly composed of. The feel of cold air whipping across his exposed scalp made him long for freedom, for flight.
At that moment, more than at any time previously, he could imagine how Cati had felt.
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