Hidden Trump (Bite Back 2)

by Mark Henwick

  “Ms. Farrell has an exaggerated preference for risk.”

  Not news to me. What did I have to worry about? Where was he going with this?

  “In isolation, a concern, but regrettably, it is not in isolation.” Remy bowed his head and pressed his fist to his mouth for a second, before continuing. “One does not like to use the terms schizophrenia and paranoia, because of popular misconceptions about their precise medical meaning. I shall say, rather, that Ms. Farrell manifests a predisposition to delusions.”

  What?

  “These may be in the form of voices telling her to do things, or constant feelings of persecution. She has been relatively successful, so far, in controlling this. In order to do this, a structure for dealing with these matters pervades her mind. Without more study, one could not be absolutely definitive, but I believe she regards her Athanate state as a sort of creature in her mind, to keep chained.”

  Panethus stirred in their seats again.

  Bian’s grip on my arm tightened. I was tensing to stand. I forced myself to relax back.

  Remy wiped his brow again. “And…there is evidence of memory tampering.”

  “What?” Even Skylur started at that.

  What did they do to me? What did they do to me in that windowless cell?

  I wanted to run. Anywhere. Hide. Bian’s grip increased. She pulled me closer, her lips right next to my ear.

  “Breathe. Calm. Breathe. He is trying to provoke you. Trust me, Amber. I will not betray you.”

  She put her head in front of mine as if I was whispering in her ear. She was dosing me with pacifics. Leaving me defenseless.

  Trust me with your life.

  I took a deep breath.

  “It is possible for one to determine blocks on the memory,” Remy said, “as might be performed to obscure Athanate information. This is not a technique exclusive to the Athanate and Ms. Farrell has just such a block. Alas, I can tell you no more, without more study.” He looked down, and continued slowly. “But Ms. Farrell was previously in the United States army. One could say…that is, it is not inconceivable that they are responsible.”

  “So, Judicator Remy,” Matlal said. “She is mentally unstable and may be under some form of compulsion to betray us? Or even to assassinate someone?”

  “One could…one could validly draw such conclusions,” Remy stuttered.

  “Or she might be under a compulsion to sing the National Anthem on Independence Day,” Skylur said. “The point is, you have no idea whether there is a compulsion or what it might be.”

  “No. The point is, Judicator Remy, would you assess that she is suitable material to be an Athanate?” Correia asked.

  “Unfortunately, that decision is past.” Remy dropped the presentation controller and scrabbled to pick it up. His hands were trembling. “She is already Athanate, or at least partly so. One might speculate that there is cross-infusion with Were.” There were gasps from the representatives. “I speculate that she is in an indeterminate state, one could say, a perpetual crusis.” He looked down and his voice dropped. “For everyone’s sake, she must remain constrained. In these circumstances, in her mental state, one would recommend lobotomy, as a mercy.”

  Bian’s pacifics weren’t working well enough. “Let me go,” I groaned through clenched teeth.

  “Why not termination, if she’s liable to go rogue at any second?” Correia said.

  I would go rogue. I would take Correia and Matlal, I’d rip their throats out before anyone could stop me. And Remy. I’d do the whole world some good.

  “Amber, think of the others,” Bian hissed in my ear. “Jen, Alex, David, Pia. They need you to get through this.”

  “The Warders…” Remy blinked and looked as if he was lost for a second. “The Warders request to take responsibility. However damaged the vessel, these claims of reduction in crusis from the Blood must be investigated. The Warders’ facilities are neutral and would ensure that any benefit would be available for all Athanate.” His gaze wavered over the Assembly. “This investigation must include all House Farrell Athanate and kin.”

  “No!” I tried to shout, but Bian’s pacifics robbed me of strength. It came out as a croak. Why were they doing this to me?

  “We propose a vote on this immediately,” Matlal said.

  “A short while more,” Skylur said, holding up one hand. “Where are these facilities?”

  “New York,” Remy mumbled.

  “New York? Are you sure?”

  “There are better facilities being constructed, which we would move to in due course.” Remy’s eyes darted as if he were looking for an escape, and now the sweat ran unheeded on his face.

  “Those would be the facilities in New Mexico, would they? The ones that have just been started.”

  Remy stuttered incoherently.

  “Paid for by Banco Armeria, which in turn is owned by…Bioteca Eztlian.” Skylur’s words fell into a pin-dropped silence. “That’s one of yours, isn’t it, House Matlal? You truly thought we would not notice? What is happening when the Warders accept gifts from Basilikos?”

  Lindberg, the Panethus representative for Sweden, spoke. “Clearly, it cannot be anywhere but New York. That is the assigned neutral territory. But also clearly, this investigation must happen. Surely you agree with this, House Altau. This is too great an opportunity to waste.”

  “Really?” Skylur brooded for a minute before sighing. He turned back to Remy. “And all these opinions and speculations you have so uncharacteristically come out with?”

  Norgaard, the Panethus representative from Denmark, stood. “I agree,” she said. “It takes weeks to get an opinion from you, and here you are shoveling speculations like so much shit around a farmyard. What has happened, Remy?”

  Remy said nothing.

  “Who put those opinions there, Remy? What was your price?” Skylur demanded. “New facilities, no limitations on the scope of your investigation?”

  “This is ridiculous,” Correia said. “He works for the Warders. He is neutral. New Mexico would be in Panethus territory. This is a vote of faith on the part of Basilikos. I protest this treatment of the expert. You agreed to his determination on this matter.”

  “Ridiculous...” Remy echoed, sweat pouring from him. “Neutral…”

  “Come, Remy. Look at the truth of your position.” Skylur pointed at Marlon. “Admit it.”

  Remy just shook his head violently. He looked as if he might be about to throw up.

  “Then I am truly sorry,” Skylur said quietly, and pressed a button on his seat.

  The presentation screen now showed Remy in conversation on the telephone. I heard almost nothing before Remy started shouting and waving his hands as if he could stop them from watching.

  “Cease this. This is outrageous! Scandaleux…” He stopped, dwarfed by the Remy on the screen. “C'est…?” A look of bewilderment passed across his face, and for the briefest moment, sheer terror. Then it was just blank, like Marlon’s. And, behind him, the screen showed him arguing the details of the diagnoses he had just made on me. Trying to argue against and simply being told what to say.

  Skylur stopped the video. The room was silent as ushers removed Marlon and Remy.

  I felt ill. Bian’s hand remained on my arm, but I slumped in the chair, waiting for the next disaster.

  Lindberg rose to his feet again. “I restate my opinion that Ms. Farrell should be placed in a protective situation, and a neutral team set up to study the effects of her Blood on crusis.”

  Norgaard started to argue, but Skylur cut across them both. “House Lindberg, my understanding of scientific method is that there needs to be a control subject. Perhaps you are offering for the whole of House Lindberg to go into this protective situation with House Farrell, and have your Blood studied for the benefit of the Athanate?”

  “But I am…” he stopped.

  “Exactly. You are Athanate, and Master of your House, and not subject to arbitrary imprisonment.” He leaned back. “Ju
st like House Farrell.”

  “That has not been determined,” said Matlal. “Remy suggested—”

  “You are surely not accepting anything Remy said?” Skylur looked astonished and raised his hands to the ceiling. “He has just been completely discredited. But I did agree to submit to expert determination, and the suborning of Remy has robbed us of one expert. But not all. Adept Emerson?”

  “Oh, so very traditional, House Altau.” She chuckled and stood up.

  Bian whispered. “The old method of assessing fitness to be Athanate—she can assess the binding of kin and House.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Nothing, she’ll do it all.”

  “Do what? Is it going to—”

  “Just trust, Amber.” But Bian was nervous now as well.

  Pia understood what was happening and brought David forward from the back of the room.

  “There are others as well back there,” Correia said.

  The ushers helped Alex wheel Jen’s gurney to the center. She was covered with a sheet to her collarbone and her golden hair was matted and flat beneath her. I was sure none of the Athanate recognized her.

  Emerson came and stood in front of me. She had a bright vitality beneath her wrinkled face. Her eyes were winter sky blue, unblinking in their reading of me.

  After ten years in the army, no one beats me with staring games, even as battered and tired as I was. I just stood there, trembling with the effects of the pacifics, and looked back at her.

  She took my right hand, still cuffed to Bian’s. Her fingers were cold, restless in their grip. Pia gave her hand. My heart skipped a beat.

  “Bound,” she said immediately, her voice both raspy and soft.

  David gave his hand. “Bound,” she said again.

  Jen’s gurney was pushed closer. Emerson reached for Jen’s hand. Her face swayed close to mine. I could sense Bian’s tension. Those cool eyes bored into me. It felt like a prickle of pins traveled up my arm. Her eyes widened slightly and her face creased into a smile.

  “Oh! Twice bound,” she said so softly, no one else would hear.

  She reached for Alex’s hand, when Correia spoke: “Were! She’s brought a Were to the Assembly. This is a security—”

  “Precedent,” shouted Bian, leaping to her feet. “Several Basilikos Houses have enslaved Weres and Adepts. They have been brought to the Assembly. And this Were is here of his own free will.”

  Well, that got Alex’s vote, I guessed. He ignored it all, except for a golden-eyed glance at me. His hand lay in the Adept’s.

  “You can’t bind a Were,” Correia said. “Altau’s affiliates must enslave them.”

  Emerson laughed. It made her seem much younger.

  “And thrice,” she whispered.

  What?

  She returned to her colleague, not even looking at the Assembly. “All bound,” she said, waving to encompass all of us. “None compelled.”

  “Well,” said Skylur. “That’s all clear then.”

  Speak for yourself, Skylur.

  “And House Farrell,” Skylur said, looking at me. My heart skipped another beat. “For completeness in registration, who is or was your Mentor?”

  Bian squeezed my wrist and I stood again.

  “Diana Ionache.” I sat down in a profound silence.

  Lindberg rose and made a small formal bow. “If there were any lingering doubts, that would dispel them. My apologies, House Farrell.”

  I made an awkward sitting bow back.

  Skylur beckoned to David and Pia.

  Oh gods, what now?

  “I believe you have a presentation for us? I know this is not according to the schedule, but since you’re here…”

  A controller was handed to David. He stood there in his damp combat uniform and composed himself.

  What on earth was this?

  “David Thaler, House Farrell,” he introduced himself, and I felt a surge of pride.

  “I’ve been asked to present an analysis of the implications of Emergence—”

  Matlal rose to his feet and interrupted. “What possible relevance has this to the oath of House Farrell?”

  “You did request the scope to be opened,” Skylur replied reasonably. “This is House Farrell, demonstrating why they warrant being an entity. I haven’t seen this presentation, I’m eager. Aren’t you?”

  Matlal sat down, fuming.

  “…the implications of Emergence on the financial stability of the world,” David continued. He glanced nervously at Skylur, but composed himself again. “In parallel to this, we have a second analysis.” He indicated Pia.

  “Pia Shirazi, House Farrell,” she said. “An analysis of the societal impact of Emergence.”

  I hadn’t a clue where this was leading, but I loved them standing there, everyone just accepting the designation of House Farrell. Maybe we were through the worst.

  I’d always known David was smart. He showed every one of them exactly how smart he was. He’d gathered information about the way large financial institutions invested, where and how they received the funds to invest and he made it all simple, even the way that the whole worldwide structure was interconnected. He had to have worked twenty-three hours a day this whole week to do it.

  He demonstrated his analytical system by using the worldwide financial impact of the banking crisis, how it came about and how much weaker it left everything.

  Pia took over and showed the societal effects of the banking crisis—the vilification of bankers, the crisis of confidence that led to the collapse of banks and financial institutions, and the fall of governments in the wake of the disasters. She gave the floor back to David.

  He’d gotten into his stride earlier, but now, for the second time, he seemed nervous. I had an uncomfortable glimpse of where this was going, and many others did as well. There was a muted murmuring from the seats on both sides. Skylur made a gesture to carry on.

  David resumed. “That data gives us a model to predict the impact of Emergence. In the time available, we looked only at two primary drivers: pharmaceuticals and insurance.”

  The two supporting parts of his graphic model became highlighted.

  “Investor confidence in these areas would plummet,” Pia said. A slide came up to the side showing dramatic estimates for falls in stock prices.

  “This is ridiculous,” said Norgaard, ahead of the rest of them. “You’re implying that humans would expect Athanate to replace all medicine with healing? The post-retirement income investment companies would be crippled because humans live longer? Athanate are not numerous. We can’t possibly do this.”

  “You are absolutely correct. But the world financial structure is built on confidence and perception, not on substance,” replied David. He held up a ten dollar bill. “This piece of paper says the government of the United States owes me money. Where do I go to collect, and what will they give me? What if everyone goes there? This bill has no value except its perceived value. The effect of Emergence would be even more profound than the banking crisis.” He gestured at the screen, where his three-dimensional model of the interconnected financial structure went through an animation of the pharmaceutical and insurance pillars collapsing. The whole worldwide structure followed.

  “This would lead to an anarchic reaction against the perceived cause,” Pia said. “We’re talking worldwide riots. Lynching. Burning.”

  The whole Assembly sat, appalled at the picture David and Pia had painted.

  Except Skylur. I was watching him, wondering what the hell he thought he was doing. An icy smile passed like a spring frost across his face and was gone.

  “Well, most instructive, House Altau, House Farrell,” Correia said, letting her breath ease out of her. “Emergence is a dead cause from this time forward. Excellent.”

  “Not exactly.” Skylur reached down beside his seat and placed something in his lap. “That presentation shows the results of unprepared Emergence. That is what we are facing at this very moment.” He l
ooked at me and beckoned. “House Farrell, please.”

  Bian unlocked the handcuffs. I walked unsteadily, in a daze, every step sending jolts of dull pain through my shoulder. What next? At least no one challenged the removal of the handcuffs.

  “We are here, at the heart of the most powerful and advanced human civilization the world has ever seen,” Skylur addressed the room, and suddenly his voice reached out like a lash. “And you think we can hide in the shadows.

  “Explain this device to them.” Skylur thrust my blood test unit at me.

  A bubbling glee threatened to break out in me, but I managed to control it. I turned and held the unit up for everyone to see.

  “This box,” I said, “belongs to the US military. And it was made to measure the change from human to Athanate.”

  Shouts of denial interrupted me, but I pointed at the Adepts.

  “Truth,” they said.

  “The military know about the Athanate, and our only defense against the disaster of unprepared Emergence is to prepare for it, to control Emergence. And to do that, we must prepare with governments, secretly and at the highest levels. And for that to work, our behavior as Athanate must be—”

  I couldn’t proceed against the tide of protest from Basilikos. They could see where I was going, where Skylur had expertly driven us.

  I returned to my chair, letting the argument rage over me like surf. The ushers had let my House reform around me, comforting me. The emotional rollercoaster, the pain and the pacifics robbed me of reaction. I sat numbly.

  Eventually, a semblance of calm was restored.

  One of the teleconference screens lit up with a blue bar. The unofficial representative of the Midnight Empire requested to speak and Skylur nodded.

  “Tell me, House Farrell,” he said, his British voice thin through the speakers, “what your Mentor thinks of this.”

  “Diana wants it,” I replied. “She would like me to start making connections through my former military contacts to talk to the government.”

  I saw a raised eyebrow from the Adept, but I hadn’t lied outright.