“And then he just collapsed,” Ben finished. “I didn’t see anyone who could have done it.”
“Did you notice any movement?” Ched-Theree persisted. “Anyone acting in the least bit strange?”
I saw Padric Sufur, Ben thought, in a house. Walking free and unmolested. But he didn’t want to tell Ched-Theree this. Ben wanted Sufur to himself. So he shook his head. “I didn’t see a thing. I was mostly looking at Kendi. Did Keith see anyone?”
“He says he only saw a flash of movement just before Father Kendi collapsed,” Ched-Theree said. “The bodyguard gave us the dart he pulled from the wound. The alloy carried a tiny magnetic charge, which seems to indicate it was propelled rather than thrown by hand or blown from a pipe. We will analyze the data more thoroughly for further clues, of course.”
A nurse poked his head into the room. “Mr. Rymar, Father Kendi is awake.”
“We can finish at another time,” Ched-Theree said. “Gratitude.”
Ben barely heard. He hurried to follow the nurse into Kendi’s room. The lighting was dim. Kendi lay face-up on a hospital bed surrounded by medical equipment. Sensor patches were stuck on his head, arms, and chest. The equipment made soft beeps and whirrs.
“Only five minutes, please,” the nurse said. “He needs to rest.” And he left.
Ben sat next to the bed and took Kendi’s hand. It was cool and dry. Kendi turned his head and gave Ben a weak smile.
“Still here,” he whispered. “Wow.”
Ben’s throat thickened. “You just stay here, mister. I’m not going swimming in the Dream by myself.”
“The Real People...spoke to me,” Kendi said in a halting voice. “They said...we have to repopulate the Dream and I...I have to help. So I came back...even though it was...cold. I was cold.”
“Are you cold now?” Ben asked uncertainly. “I can probably find the temperature control on the blanket and—”
“Not cold now. Tired.”
“I’ll go,” Ben said. “You sleep. And we’ll find the bastards who did this.”
He started to rise, but Kendi squeezed his hand with surprising strength. “Promise.”
“That we’ll get them?” Ben asked. “You’re damned right I—”
“No. Promise you’ll...let the police do it. Don’t...go after Sufur.”
Ben gasped. “How do you know it was Sufur? Did you see him?”
“Didn’t see anyone. I just know...how you think. Promise me. Promise.”
The effort was costing Kendi a great deal, and Ben couldn’t bring himself to refuse. “I promise.”
Kendi released Ben’s hand and fell instantly asleep. Ben looked down at him for a long time. “ll right. He couldn’t go after Sufur directly, but damned if he was going to sit and do nothing. He kissed Kendi’s forehead and tiptoed out of the room.
The next day, Kendi was much improved and could sit up unaided. The day after that, he was trying to climb out of bed. After three days he was complaining to anyone who would listen about how bored he was. After six days he tried to leave the hospital and was physically stopped by Gretchen and Tan, who were standing guard outside his room. After eight days, the doctor pronounced Kendi in perfect health and ready to go home. Ben guided the hoverchair to the main entrance, and Kendi all but leaped for the door. Outside, an enormous crowd of reporters were standing in the rain, held back by a line of police officers. They shouted incoherent questions when the doors opened. Kendi gave them a brief wave before Tan hustled him into the flitcar.
“Praise the Dream,” he sighed as the car door shut. Gretchen took the pilot’s chair and her takeoff was smooth. “I have to say that rainy air never smelled so good. It’s fresh air.”
“Three Drink Night is tomorrow,” Ben reminded him as they flew home. “Lucia’s been cooking up a storm. “re you up for a party?”
“You bet!” Kendi said with enthusiasm. “I’ve been sitting on my bum for so long it’s gotten flat.” He ran his hand up Ben’s leg. “There are lots of other things I’ve missed, too.”
“Keep it for home, please,” Tan said from the front seat.
“Tell him your surprise, Ben,” Gretchen added. “Maybe it’ll distract him.”
“Surprise?” Kendi said, curiosity piqued. “You got me a present?”
Ben gave a strange grin that conveyed both pleasure and severity. “Sort of. I found out a few things about Padric Sufur.”
Kendi’s mood shifted from ebullient to wary. “Like what?”
“With you in the hospital, I had a lot of time to hack around,” Ben said. “I finally managed to access a few of Sufur’s accounts. He’s operating under the name Patrick Sulfur—original—and he has all the utilities and network accounts you’d expect. I’m not up to hacking banks, thanks, but he pays his bills in advance and buys some pretty expensive groceries. His messages are too deeply encrypted for me to crack—yet—but I’ve been able to tell he’s communicating a lot with somebody. And we haven’t bugged his house.”
“Why not?” Kendi asked.
“He’s always home. Lucia scrounged up some distance listening devices and we tried to listen through the walls, but he’s insulated his house and we couldn’t hear a thing. We’re keeping an eye on the place, but it’s barely worth it because he rarely goes outside. That makes it hard to plant bugs in there. Besides, if he’s insulated the house, he’s probably also set up detectors and scramblers.”
“Okay,” Kendi said. “I’m assuming there’s more.”
“Martina and I started sniffing around the Dream, too,” Ben said. “We learned something really interesting. We would have picked it up earlier pre-Despair, but these days it takes news quite a while to get—”
“What did you learn?” Kendi demanded. “No babbling.”
“Sorry.” Ben took a deep breath. “We found out that Silent Acquisitions was in bankruptcy. When we freed all those Silent slaves and destroyed the Collection last year, we destroyed Silent Acquisitions. Except at the last minute they found a buyer. Guess who?”
Adrenaline thrilled through Kendi’s veins. “Sufur.”
“Sufur knew the Despair was coming because he arranged it,” Ben said. “Turns out he managed to set himself up so his own fortune would remain untouched, and he has the buying power to be a savior. He owns a majority of stock in Silent Acquisitions now.”
“All life,” Kendi said in awe.
“Now we just have to figure out why he tried to kill you,” Ben said.
“Ben,” Kendi said, “this is going to sound really strange coming from me, but—aren’t you jumping to conclusions?”
“He shows up on Bellerophon at the same time the attempts on your life begin,” Ben said. “That’s opportunity. You foiled his plan to destroy the Dream. That’s motive.”
“We haven’t seen means,” Kendi said. “Did the Vajhurs say they saw him leave the house when I was darted?”
“No, but he probably hired someone.”
“He could have,” Kendi said, “but I’m still thinking Foxglove is involved.”
“Why?” Ben said. “You’re no threat to him anymore. Grandma’s polls are at an all-time low. I know Petrie was hoping there’d be some kind of martyr effect with you being attacked and all, but it never happened. Grandma’s credibility is shot, thanks to that gangster, and Ched-Pirasku is too boring to put up a good fight. It would be stupid of Foxglove to try and kill you now. If he got caught, it would ruin his chances of winning an election he’s already got locked down.”
“I’m just saying we should keep an open mind,” Kendi said. “Sufur’s high on my list, but he isn’t the only one I’m looking at.”
“Who else do you have in mind besides Foxglove and Sufur?” Gretchen asked.
“Um...well...”
“That’s what I thought,” Gretchen said.
The rest of the ride was silent. Gray rain washed over the windows, and below Kendi saw golden glimmers of lights set out on balconies in groups of three. He tried to summon u
p some holiday spirit, but it was hard. In addition to everything else, this would be the first Three Drink Night since Ara had died.
They arrived home to a houseful of delicious kitchen smells. Lucia emerged from the kitchen holding a wooden spoon and gave Kendi a welcome-home hug. Her abdomen pressed against his like a small basketball. Harenn sat on the couch with her feet up, both hands on the mound of her stomach.
“The cow gives you welcome,” she said.
Kendi laughed. “You’re not a cow. You’re a beautiful woman.”
“Flatterer. I feel like something that washed up on a beach and could not flop back into the water.”
“It won’t be long,” Ben said. “Can I bring you anything?”
“A bigger bladder.”
Kendi leaned down to kiss her cheek, something he would never have considered doing even a year ago. “We deeply appreciate everything you’re doing, Harenn. Every moment.”
“You may prove your devotion by bringing me three glasses of egg nog.”
“I’ll get them,” Ben said with a laugh, and went into the kitchen. He emerged a moment later with four small glasses on a tray. Brown nutmeg floated on the white-gold nog. “The fourth one’s for me,” he said. “I have to check my messages. I’ll be right back.”
“Bedj-ka is playing sims in your office,” Harenn said. “But his time is up, so you may kick him off.”
“Got it.” He left.
“How do you feel, Kendi?” Harenn asked.
“Perfect,” Kendi said. “I could run wind-sprints. If it weren’t raining outside, I probably would, just to get my blood moving again.”
“You won’t be running anywhere,” Tan said. “You’re staying under lock and key until the police catch whoever’s trying to kill you.”
Kendi sighed. “I figured as much. It may be for my own good, but—”
A cry came from Ben’s study, followed by the sound of breaking glass. Kendi darted out of the living room and got there first. He found Ben standing in the room with Bedj-ka. The glass of egg nog had shattered on the hardwood floor. Both of Ben’s hands were over his mouth and his blue eyes were filled with horror. Bedj-ka was pale.
“What’s wrong?” Kendi demanded as Tan, Gretchen, and Lucia crowded into the hallway behind him.
Ben pointed at the data pad on his desk. The floating display showed a text story from a newsfeed. The headline read, Salman Reza’s Grandson Revealed as Son of Irfan.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“A secret dies when it’s revealed.”
—Irfan Qasad
Senator Salman Reza set her teacup on the coffee table with a firm clack. A composite hologram of her grandchildren—Ben, Tress, and Zayim—wobbled slightly. “So it’s true.”
“Yeah.” Ben was sitting on her sofa next to Kendi, his hands clasped tightly between his knees. Harenn and Lucia had chairs of their own. Wanda Petrie steepled her fingertips on a loveseat. Tan and Gretchen stood guard at either entrance to the room. “Grandma, I don’t know what to do. I need your help.”
“You’re the biological son of Irfan Qasad and Daniel Vik,” Salman said. “No hoax. No joke.”
“The truth is the truth,” Kendi said. “It doesn’t change when you repeat it.”
“I’m just trying to get my mind around the concept,” Salman said. “My god, Ben—this is...this is...I don’t know what this is.”
“A miracle,” Lucia said. “People are already pointing out that the news about Ben has come out right at the time young Silent are re-entering the Dream. How can that be a coincidence? Ben and these children Harenn and I are carrying—true Children of Irfan—are arriving to lead us out of the Despair and into a new age of peace and prosperity.”
Harenn clasped her hands protectively over her heavy abdomen. “I will not allow my child to be exploited by the Church of Irfan, Lucia.”
“Exploited?” Lucia said with uncustomary heat. “Is that how you see my church? “s a bunch of exploitative fanatics? Never mind how many orphans we clothe and feed, never mind how many people we shelter and guide. We are exploitative fanatics because we do these things in the name of spirituality.” He voice rose. “I am also carrying a child of Irfan. Do you think I want my baby to be exploited?”
“I did not mean to imply any such thing,” Harenn said. “But I fear there will be many people who want to get their hands on our children, and not all of them work for the good of society.”
“I am not—”
“Please,” Salman interrupted. “Please. This is no time for arguing, my loves. We need to figure out what to do.”
“The newsfeeds are carrying nothing but stories about Ben,” Kendi said. He waved his data pad. “My public mailbox is so full of requests and demands for interviews that it’s run out of memory, and the Council of Irfan has been ringing us without stop. It’s only a matter of time before someone ferrets out our home address. The neighbors knew not to tell people—they didn’t want strangers sniffing around the neighborhood anymore than we did—but now...”
“I’m not talking to the Children or the feeds,” Ben said. “I’m not talking to anybody. They don’t own me.”
“You don’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to, Ben,” Petrie said. “But do you understand what this means for thousands—millions—of people? Not everyone reveres Irfan Qasad as a goddess—”
“Human incarnation of the divine,” Lucia corrected.
A—but they do view her as a symbol of hope and power. Your presence would bring hope and happiness to a great many people.”
“And boost the Senator’s polls?” Tan said evenly.
“Yes,” Petrie said blandly. “Yes, it would.”
“You want me to endorse your campaign, don’t you?” Ben said tiredly.
Salman leaned forward in her chair. Behind her, the orange lizards chirped softly in their cage. “I’m going to lose the election, Ben. I imagine my polls have increased a bit with this news—”
“Eleven percent,” Petrie said, tapping at her data pad.
A—but it won’t be enough to carry me through unless you specifically endorse me.”
“Didn’t take her long to go from stunned to shrewd, did it?” Gretchen said sotto voce to Tan.
“I don’t know, Grandma,” Ben said. “I think you’re the best candidate for the job, and I’m not saying that just because you’re my grandmother, but I...I’m not good at public speaking. It makes me sick just thinking about it. I don’t want to be a celebrity.”
“You are one whether you want it or not, my duck,” Salman said gently. “The genie is out of the bottle, and we can’t put it back in.” She sighed. “You were hoping that I somehow could make it go away because I’m a Senator. I don’t have that power, love. I wish I did, because I don’t like seeing you upset or in pain. I want to see you a happy father with his new children—my great-grandchildren. And you can be. Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you can’t be happy, too.”
“You could move off-planet,” Gretchen pointed out. “There are lots of places where no one would recognize you.”
“Bellerophon is my home,” Ben said. “I’ve never lived anywhere else. I don’t want to leave.”
“Then help me make it a better place,” Salman said earnestly. “Not only that—if I were in the governor’s office, I’d be in a better position to run interference for you and the children. “ll of them.”
There was a long pause. At last, Ben said in a barely-audible voice, “All right.”
Salman and Petrie both sagged slightly in equal relief. “Thank you,” Salman said. “Ben, you’ve just made history in this room.”
Kendi set his own data pad on the coffee table next to the grandchildren hologram. “What I want to know,” he said, “is who dropped the news? Lots of people knew about the young Silent re-entering the Dream and I don’t think we’ll ever trace that leak, but only four people knew about Ben’s family—me, Lucia, Harenn, and Ben. And we didn’t tell anyone.”
&n
bsp; “It must have been whoever stole that disk from Lucia,” Tan said. “There’s no other explanation.”
“We’ve gone over that before,” Kendi said. “And it still doesn’t make sense. The Days were almost certainly working for Foxglove when they found that medical file, but it’s also highly likely that they didn’t have Foxglove’s permission to blackmail Ben—too much potential damage to his campaign if anyone found out. The information about Ben would only hurt Foxglove. He must have ordered the Days killed so they wouldn’t leak the info and destroy his chances. Either his operative stole the disk from Lucia, or it really was a random theft.”
“If it were a random theft,” Lucia said, “and the thief was the news leak, all this would have happened long ago.”
“Remember how we decided the mugger was someone who knew where Lucia was headed?” Harenn said. “I still think it a sound theory.”
“Except how would the person have known where Lucia was going?” Kendi objected. He picked up the hologram of Ben and his cousins and toyed with the base. “It’s all tangled up.”
“It seems a paradox,” Harenn agreed. “It would appear Salman’s enemies stole the information, but they are also the least likely people to reveal it. Either the person who killed the Days was also the person who attacked Lucia—in which case the information should not have come out because it would hurt Foxglove—or the two events were unrelated—in which case the information should not have come out at all or should have come out long ago.”
“Yeah,” Kendi said, still playing with the hologram base. “It’s as if someone...someone knew...” There was a click inside Kendi’s head, and a cold finger slid down his spine. Moving with great care, he set the hologram back on the table next to his data pad. His brand new data pad. Slowly, unwillingly, he turned on the sofa and faced Wanda Petrie in her loveseat.
“It was you,” he said.
Petrie stared at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
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