by Alex Hughes
A blank moment, and finally Diaz nodded. That was my doing, he said, and the feelings around it in Mindspace were simply determined. You have made yourself infamous, and possibly dangerous.
“And then you hired me,” I said. “And then you let me inside the Guild, at least some of you—” I looked at Rex. “And wanted me to solve this murder for you.”
He killed himself, the pale woman said.
Madness, madness, and fear, the room echoed dimly.
“No, he didn’t,” I said, in as clear and certain a voice as I could get. “Do you know how I know?”
A burst of concern from the podium, maybe from Green? He wasn’t looking at me. Huh.
How? Diaz asked.
Because we found a device influencing him through Mindspace, a device we also found in his assistant John Spirale’s apartment. Meyers also threw out his knives and even his sheets and towels to avoid any possibility of the death he kept seeing in visions. He left a note telling us that those visions had happened. My mind added all of the details of the case I’d found to support my belief in homicide. The electrical system was tampered with. Kara Chenoa, a smart woman, thinks Del Meyers would never, ever have killed himself in that way. I believe her. My complex feelings for Kara and my anger about her leaked out; I couldn’t help it. Kara may not be for me personally, but she loves the Guild. She loves the truth. And there’s a reason you’re letting her family get involved in what should be a Council matter. There’s huge benefit to dialogue. To discussion. To truth.
Then, quietly, in Mindspace, with overtones of exhaustion: Can I please finish my testimony? Ms. Jones, the deep-scanner, asked.
We all looked at her.
Of course, Diaz sent, with great overtones of apology.
The court officer had a moment in which she collected herself in Mindspace. Then she stabilized. Ms. Jones, what about the second charge? The proposed manipulation and madness causing.
She again concentrated on not looking at me. The second charge is categorically untrue. Tobias has neither caused nor participated in any action contributing to either the deaths noted or to the current crisis in the Guild.
Loud discussion in Mindspace swamped the room. I shielded, hard, to block out the huge noise.
And then I turned, and stared at her.
“How can that be true?” I asked.
The prisoner will be silent until spoken to, Rex’s mental voice cut through Mindspace with outright tones of anger. Ms. Jones deserves rest!
Order in the room, Diaz put in. Thank you, Ms. Jones. You may go.
She nodded gravely and turned to leave, never once having looked at me.
It hit me then: I was wrong. I had been wrong. I had assumed . . . but assumptions were for idiots and fools. What he’d done, to meet with Fiske, was bad enough. But to leap to conclusions when my life—
Quiet your thoughts! Diaz told me, on a private channel, the tone blistering in its ferocity.
I looked up at the old man, strong in his position, wrinkled and old, and quieted my thoughts.
Then he spoke out loud, in that quavering voice that did not match the mind behind it. “Tobias Nelson, do you have anything to say in your own defense?”
“What I did I did for the good of the Guild. What was done with the parts that I obtained is not my doing.”
Rex looked over at the Research chair. “Ms. Chin—”
Aha! I had remembered her name correctly.
“—what are the results of your inquiry into your depart- ment?”
Patience, Rex. There will be plenty of time for that, Diaz said.
Chin sat very straight, and I got a faint feeling of embarrassment and shame from her.
Nelson, finish.
Nelson pulled himself up. He still looked awful, like he’d been run over by a truck and then had the flesh wounds healed. You still got the impression of unimaginable pain and exhaustion. But there was strength there too, and anger. “A member of this Council told me to obtain certain parts. Parts that the Guild could not get any other way. I did as I was told. No one asked where they had come from. No one wanted to know. Any deals I made with Garrett Fiske in addition to those parts were intended to keep the Guild safe.”
Diaz turned an eye to Rex. What did you—?
It was me, Chin said, and the room grew totally, completely silent. Or rather, it was my department. I am ashamed that we have brought embarrassment to the Guild.
And why did you require specialized parts we could only get from a criminal? Diaz’s mental voice was very, very dangerous.
I—
Sir, do we really want to have this conversation in front of an outsider? Green said, in the most reasonable voice I’ve heard so far. Of course, in Mindspace, “outsider” had entire layers of negative connotations that wouldn’t translate into language, and specifically referred to me. There was a clear overtone of “criminal” as well. Thoughts were such a rich medium, well beyond words, and for the first time I had cause to hate that fact.
I’m not in any hurry to leave, I said.
Diaz looked at his son, then me. Let’s wrap up the matter at hand, then, and then turn to the why and wherefore.
The Council officer beside me straightened. Adam Ward, no status, has been informed of the severe consequences of a false accusation against someone of the first class.
And I held my breath, waiting for the ax to drop.
The officer went on. Tobias Nelson has admitted to consorting with a known criminal whose interests do not lie aligned with the Guild’s.
She paused for effect, making a silence as clear in Mindspace as a drumroll. It is traditional for the accused to be sentenced first. What say you, Council?
My heart beat faster.
Diaz sat, his mind releasing grave determination as his robes settled around him. Further investigation into Nelson’s transgressions is required.
I agree, Chris Tubbs said, but Green’s point is valid. We must sentence him now, at least provisionally. I propose Nelson is removed from his current post pending that investigation and reduced to the rank of base Enforcer until and unless such a time as he is cleared or earns his status back. Additional penalties to be assessed in the result of future findings. What say you?
I am ineligible to vote. Chin’s mind-sending was weak, quiet.
You are, Diaz agreed. I vote aye.
My old classmate Charlie voted aye along with Tubbs, and nays came from the pale woman from Finance and from Rex. Then, quickly, two ayes from Johanna and Green.
So mote it be, the officer of the Council said.
I couldn’t breathe. Obviously Nelson had had the support of some on the Council, and now he was being stripped of his rank for being caught carrying out Council orders. No other reason. It seemed harsh.
On the matter of the accusation of Adam Ward against Tobias Nelson, what say you, Council?
“May I speak on my behalf?” Nelson asked, true hatred now in his voice.
You may, Diaz said.
“This man falsely accused me of murder and worse. He has done damage to my reputation and to the reputation of the Guild as a whole. By removing me from duty, he has damaged the ability of Enforcement to respond to the current mental health crisis. And he has conspired with many—including Kara Chenoa—to discredit me and other members of the Guild. He was removed from the Guild once and he has returned to wreak more damage. He has been convicted of felonies in the normal system and he does not learn. I argue he should be killed.”
Was this how it was going to end? Because of the enemies I’d made and the mistakes I’d put through? I’d gotten Bellury killed. I’d screwed up, over and over again. I’d screwed up here.
Do you have anything to say for yourself, Adam Ward? the official asked.
We have a great deal to do this afternoon, Tubbs put in immediately
, with a censuring thought. This is not a cut-and-dry case, and it is not the most important thing on the Council’s docket. I say we delay the matter until a better time.
You want to keep him here during a madness crisis? Charlie asked, unbelieving. It’s stupid to waste good resources on watching him.
That hurt. We’d been in school together, and he was treating me like a stranger.
We could throw him in a cell, Tubbs said. Worked last time.
And Kara’s boss, just as heartless. I felt my heart sinking.
Throw him out on the street, the pale woman said, without any compassion.
Won’t he run? asked Chin.
Give him a mind-tag, Johanna said, the first time she’d said anything. The implication was that they could find me anywhere if I did run. She, like the pale woman, seemed utterly without compassion.
I was going to die.
We could just kill him now, Rex observed.
I braced.
Release him, Diaz said, as if coming to a decision. In two days, we’ll meet again. And, Adam?
“Yes?” I said, feeling like I was in shock. Divorced from all of my surroundings. Confused.
You will receive that mind-tag, from a member of Enforcement. If you do not report back here on time . . . well, there are worse things than death. And far worse than a removal of your Abilities. Think about that.
I backed out of the room, numb, numb, so numb. I backed out and, when the door shut behind me, collapsed on the floor.
“What did they decide?” Stone’s voice asked me.
I struggled to breathe, the pressure so great. The only thing worse than dying today was not knowing if you were going to die in two days. I let go of the information, letting it whoosh out in Mindspace in an uncontrolled, amateur blast.
He took a step back.
I stared at the floor. “You’re still a member of Enforcement?”
• • •
After it was over, Stone had Turner drive me home. I kept poking at the tag in my head, the little piece of Stone’s mind stuck onto mine, temporary in theory, but this was the second time we’d done this. Every time I poked at it, I had pain, pain like poking at the empty place where a tooth used to be.
The city lights passed over us as the aircar settled into a ground lane and Turner took a turn.
“You know when to show up?” she asked, flatly.
“Yes.”
“Do you need me to pick you up?”
“I think I’ll find my own way, thanks.” Even if I had to take the bus, it was better than them ferrying me around, especially if it was going to be . . . I shied away. I shouldn’t think about that. It wasn’t helpful. It wouldn’t do any good.
She didn’t say anything else, and after a while the aircar came to a stop.
“It’s time to get out now,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, and looked up, walling off my thoughts as strictly as I’d walled off the rest of the world, as strictly as I’d walled my mind against Mindspace.
We were sitting in front of my apartment building, an old converted office building with lovely architecture . . . and stains and cracks so deep you could hardly see one without the other. It looked . . . sad today. It looked defeated.
I got out and closed the car door; the car started moving right then, without waiting. Ignoring the cold, I trudged up the cracking stairs and into the lobby, where some homeless guy was settling on our couches. I didn’t know where the security guard was. I didn’t care. The key got me into the stairs, and the stairs got me onto my floor.
I paused outside my door. Too many people had been in my apartment over the last months for me to ever go in without checking. A mind sat in the middle of my living room, a mind I recognized.
I turned the key and opened the door.
“Hello, Cherabino,” I said.
CHAPTER 17
“How did you—?” She stood. “Stupid question. The Link, right?”
“That’s right,” I said, closing the door behind me. I wanted to collapse. I wanted to shake. I wanted to do anything and everything except stand here being brave, being normal in front of her.
Maybe some of that leaked out onto my face.
She came over and leaned into me, putting her arms around me. “Stupid Link. It will be gone eventually. It will. You promised.”
I stood stock-still.
She gripped harder. What’s wrong? she sent over the Link, getting through even my tightest, most tightly clenched shield. What’s . . . wrong, Adam?
Her kindness and concern melted the hard shell I’d put over my emotions and I started to shake. My knees softened.
She pulled me over to the couch. I barely made it, staggering like I was drunk.
“What’s wrong, damn it?” she yelled.
I was shaking. They’d let me go. They’d let me go and now I had to go do it all again. I—they’d kill me. They’d do worse.
Cherabino climbed into my lap and held my head in her hands. “Talk to me, please.” Her voice was hard, desperate.
“I . . .” I shook my head. “I can’t . . .”
And then she kissed me, slow and quiet and comforting. I kissed her back, and I gathered her in my arms, and I just shook.
Sometime later, with me stretched out on the couch and her stretched out on my chest, rubbing her hand up and down on my arm, I thought I could try.
“Can I ask you a favor?” My voice was low, hesitant.
She looked up, concern in her eyes. “Anything.”
“Would you drive me to the Guild day after tomorrow?”
She nodded, slowly. When I didn’t say anything else, she asked cautiously, “Why?”
I let go enough to tell her, mind to mind, quietly.
“Ooof,” I hissed as she hit my stomach trying to stand.
Now she was standing and screaming, in a rush of words that didn’t make any sense, mostly curses.
“Who do they think they are?” she finally said, making sense, eyes alit with some dangerous fire. “We’ll fight this. We’ll fight this!” And more in that vein.
I sat up, and sighed. When she quieted down enough that I could be heard, I said, “They own me, Cherabino. Legally. For all I’ve done to get away from them. And all they’ve done to push me away. That’s what Koshna means. I’m a telepath, and you can’t touch me legally. And you can’t touch the Guild. They can kill me in broad daylight in front of witnesses, and other than some bad press, there’s nothing anybody can do. They can find me anywhere now.”
She came close, bending down to look me in the eye. “You can’t give up. We will fight this!”
I blew out a breath. “Please. Help me stay distracted. Help me— I don’t know, Cherabino.” I ran my hands through my hair. I’d never done this before, this facing inevitability. Well, that wasn’t true. I’d done it once, and I’d checked myself into rehab. But there was no rehab here, not for me, not for this. “Drive me there and stay with me, okay?”
She knelt on the floor and looked up. “You want me to take you to these bastards? Give in?”
I nodded. “Yeah. If I don’t go it’ll be worse.”
Cherabino shook her head violently and got back to her feet. “I don’t know if I can do that,” she said.
“Can you at least stay the night?” I asked. “Not—not for sex,” I added, before I could think better of it. I’d promised her I wouldn’t make the Link any stronger than it was. And if they were going to turn my mind inside out or torture me, I didn’t want to draw her into it. I didn’t want her to be tortured too, or die when I was killed. As much as I wanted to lose myself in sex right now.
“You want me to sleep with you? Just sleep?” she asked.
I looked down. “If you need to leave—”
“You’re loaning me a shirt to sleep in,”
she said, in a brittle voice.
I went over there and put my arms around her. She went stiff, and then relaxed a little into me. This was all new, all too—but I didn’t want her to leave. If I didn’t want her to die, I also didn’t want her to leave.
I was too much of a coward to want to face this alone.
• • •
Neither one of us slept all that well.
“We should have gone to my place,” she grumbled more than once. My cot was not even the size of a twin bed, and not intended for the weight of two people; you could feel the support bars beneath you. We were so close together, with not an inch to spare, that I got several good handfuls of pleasant parts without really trying.
And she didn’t push my hands away, I realized with a pang. If I was really going to be wiped, or worse . . . I adjusted my position to curl around her. I wanted more and my body agreed, but neither she nor I commented.
She stole the only pillow, got comfy, and started to snore. I sighed.
As the minutes rolled by in the dark, I found my attention going back to the hidden compartment over our heads.
Up until just a few months ago, I had had a stash of my drug sitting there, waiting for me. I knew where to get another one now.
I wondered if I’d done the wrong thing by having her stay over.
• • •
Six thirty a.m. Cherabino rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a curse. She sat up, looked for her gun, and blinked, bleary-eyed, at the offending morning.
“Coffee,” she barked at me.
I got up and limped over to the tiny kitchen counter I had in the main room of the apartment. It was clean. That was about all you could say for it. But the five-foot counter was large enough for a small coffeemaker, a sink, and a microwave, and a fridge beside it that suited most of my needs.
I set the coffee brewing and opened the cabinet. I was out of cereal. I hadn’t slept very well for a hundred reasons, but I’d missed my apartment mind-canceller the most. I had no idea how it would interact with someone else’s mind-waves, so I’d left it off. My mind felt beat up, without a chance to recover, even though I felt better emotionally after sitting in the edges of Cherabino’s mind all night. So it took me a moment to process.