A Method Truly Sublime (The Commander) (15 page)

Polly took a deep breath.  “Keep me informed, but I think I’d better tell you up front I’m not going to be your boss in this mess.”

Uh oh.  “I don’t understand,” Tonya said.

“I got a phone call yesterday.  From her nibs, herself.”  Shirley Patterson, the leader of the first Focuses.  They were both extremely wary of Shirley, and the games she played
…except when Shirley scared them spitless.  She held blackmail levers on the both of them, and she used them whenever she needed.  “She told me Sarah had messed up, and the Council and I were still to keep our noses out of the tent.  I asked her what was going on, but Shirley told me I should refer any questions to Wini…which makes me suspect Shirley’s put Wini in charge.”

Tonya repressed a shiver.  Th
is reeked of more behind-the-scenes politics, which meant there were events going on she would not learn about until after the fact, if then.  They sent her in blind, on purpose, so if on the off chance the wrong part of the FBI grabbed her, she couldn’t spill anything about the hidden first Focus political games.  If anything went wrong she would be the perfect on-site fall guy.  “That’s mildly unexpected, given my appointment.”

“Yes, it is,” Polly said.  “Take care of yourself.”

“Don’t you worry about me,” Tonya said.  False bravado, but needed.  The politics involved here were deadly.  In addition, both Keaton and Hancock had escaped from detention centers before.  Tonya suspected it was only a matter of time before Hancock escaped custody again.  If Hancock escaped under Tonya’s watch, and she hadn’t found a way to get a handle on Hancock and stop the Arm’s attacks and kidnappings of Transforms, her political career would be finished.

On the other hand,
she saw a lot of upside potential here.  Getting a handle on Hancock before the inevitable escape would be a huge feather in Tonya’s cap.  “Thank you, Polly.  Unfortunately, I’ve got to go.  I need to be in the CDC tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, of course.
Go.”

Polly paused.  “Tonya?  Be careful,” Polly said.
“I’ve been dreaming. There’s more to this than meets the eye.  The new power among the Transforms I’ve warned you about was involved in Hancock’s capture and may also be involved with the CDC.”

Tonya’s own capabilities with the dreaming were limited at best, but Polly’s skills went far beyond
normal.  “You’re saying this might be a
physical
trap for me?”

“Yes, I am.  Keep on your toes, Tonya.”

“I will,” Tonya said. “Thanks.” Polly’s warnings backed up her intuitions, but forewarned, Tonya was confident she would be able to handle whatever came up.

Carol Hancock: March 17, 1968

“There’s something I don’t understand,” McIntyre said.

We were taking a break from the medical testing and formal interrogation, giving me some time to exercise.  I wasn’t happy about my injury-limited amount of exercise, but I suspected I would be able to keep any unwanted muscle growth in check even with the limited amount of exercise I was capable of.  Listening to the doctors and their measurements, I realized I had built up some slack – I had lost thirty-two pounds since my last self-checked weight in Chicago, almost all from my muscles.  In addition, my time here in captivity had noticeably drained my already meager fat resources; I now, for the first time, approached Keaton’s paper-thin-skin anatomy model look.

McIntyre, still the only member of the investigatory team willing to relax around me when I wasn’t chained up, had been gently questioning me about life as an Arm.  He wasn’t interested in the details of how I hunted.  He
wanted to understand my motives and motivations.

“A
bout the juice?”

He nodded. 
He sat in a wooden chair against the left wall and watched me do triceps presses.  “Uh huh.  I know far too many technical details about the juice, all of which I can quote backwards and forwards, but the science doesn’t give me any real understanding of what’s going on.  I’m not trying to harass you with this, but, hell, I need food and water to survive but I don’t go psychotic about them when I don’t get them.”

There was something slightly wrong with McIntyre’s psychological state, something I couldn’t put my finger on.  Yes, I
had won him over in a few areas, but based on what I had learned of him, I could have only won him over in the areas he already leaned my way.  Which didn’t make any sense.  What changed since St. Louis?  Back in St. Louis, I had been little more than an animal to him.  I had gutted him in my escape.  In my capture, I had killed over a dozen law enforcement officers, some of them FBI and his compatriots.  He should have a visceral core of unassailable hatred buried inside.  I couldn’t find it.  He shouldn’t lean my way on any subject.

I
did manage to dig up only one buried motivation, part of the reason he was willing to be in my cell with me: survivor’s guilt, leading to a mild death wish.  Everything else remained opaque.

“Don’t underestimate what humans are like when they’re at real risk of starving or suffocating or dying of thirst,” I said.  “Seriously, though,
to me juice is a stronger need than food and water.  Even stronger than the need for air.  If I’m consciously in control of myself – which is nearly all the time after over a year and a half of being an Arm – the need for juice isn’t strong enough to override my morality, honor or good sense.”  Don’t drive my juice level down to nothing, though; it’s not me who’s in there thinking.

“Which in my mind puts you above most of humanity,” McIntyre said.

I turned to him and gave him a quizzical look.  “What, you’ve decided you like me or something?”  Why the fuck didn’t he accept my offer for sex when he had the chance?

He leaned his chair backwards to balance on the two rear legs. 
“Respect, not like,” he said.  Interesting, and true, based on the signals he gave off.  “In St. Louis you were far too weak to respect.  Something’s changed in you since, something I’ve seen before.  There are quite a few ex-soldier, ex-officer Agents.  The best of them are like you, and, no, I don’t particularly like most of them either.  I do respect them.”

“Credit
the change to Keaton,” I said.  I switched to the pull-up bar.  I still couldn’t do a one handed pull-up with my left arm without risking my still healing shoulder.  “You wouldn’t want her to train you, though.”

“Wrong, Carol,” McIntyre said.  “If you cut out the psychotic breaks and the petty sadism, she could charge a mint for her training, to my kind of people.”

Oooh.  Given enough time, I might still be able to convince him to break me out of here to get said training from me.  Not yet, though.

“But it isn’t just Arms
who have juice issues.  I’ve seen some strange juice effects on the psychology of Focuses and everyday Transforms over the years.”

I nodded.  “I can tell you what I feel, but there’s no way you can truly understand what I’ve experienced.”  I switched to
one-armed pull-ups with my right arm, thinking of Focus Teas and the never-ending goddamned whispers.  “The juice sings a never ending song, a choir of a million voices, an endless murmuring that the juice is real, not you.  The eternal lyrics murmur ‘more’ and ‘more’; and you fight the want and the more you fight the want the more those seductive lyrics dig themselves into your every thought, until the song of the juice is the only song you
can
hear.  At that point you realize what a rough beast the juice is, what a demanding master this juice monkey is, and then you realize you belong to the juice – and the juice will never ever let go.”

“
You’re a junkie, then, and all Transforms are junkies,” McIntyre said.  The front legs of his chair hit the concrete floor with a thunk.  The tone of his voice implied a dark victory, victory over himself.  McIntyre didn’t respect junkies, even those who could function despite their addiction.

I met his gaze and realized I
had lost him, at least for the moment.  Now he understood the juice at the gut level; before, he just parroted the words.  Transform Sickness was a problem; the only logical solution the total eradication of the Transforms.  Yet, McIntyre was a strong man with a strong consistent internal code, able to make reasoned judgments based on his internal code in the face of complex, ambiguous and ever changing situations, and his still-human still-moral gut had qualms about such a murderous approach.

As usual, he
played me a little as I played him a lot.  I too had grown to respect him, as an enemy.

In a strange way, he
had become
mine
.

“Too simple,” I said, finishing my pull-up set.  “What recreational drug can turn a weak defenseless housewife into what I am now?”

I had no idea if the seed I planted with my comment would ever amount to anything.

---

Focus Teas marched into the viewing area early, around 10:30 in the evening, while I finished a late evening meal.

“Carol, let’s do it,” she said.  “I’ve got the keys and the codes and my people have secured a path out.”

I had never seen her agitated, but agitated she was.

“I’m ready,” I said, and stood.

“Come over here and accept my tag.”

“No tag,” I said.

She stopped in place.  “But the tag is part of the agreement…”

“No tag.”

“I can’t help you if you don’t take my tag,” Teas said, more than a little dismayed.  “And I do want to help you.”  Something was wrong, and she wasn’t saying.

I studied her intently.  She contemplat
ed violence.  Toward me.  I edged to my left, toward a part of my cell that wasn’t out of sight, but did use the thickness of the Monster-proof net and the obtuse angle to keep me out of firearms danger.

“I don’t trust you to hold my tag and treat me well,” I said.

“I promise, upon my honor as a Focus, that with my tag you will be a part of my household, and I will not only treat you well but work to preserve you in all the ways I can.”

I couldn’t easily read her tonight because of her agitation, but I
did read her people.  They didn’t put much stock in any promises their Focus made.  She had betrayed too many of them over the years.

“You’ve got a deadline,” I said.  She didn’t answer, but I read the answer to
my question in her people as well: yes.  “Did the Feds fire you?”  No.  “Ah.  The Focus Council decided to take over?”  No.  “The first Focuses themselves fired you?”  Yes.

“That’s none of your business, Carol,” Teas said.  “You’re making this hard for me to save your life.  You must let me save you!”

“I have a counter-proposal,” I said.  “I don’t know you well enough to trust you, but there is a Focus I trust, one you work with.”  I wanted out of here, too.  Right now.  I would do almost anything to end the whispers.  “Focus Lorraine Rizzari.  I’ll take her tag.”  Pledging myself to Lori made me queasy.  If this worked out Lori would own me, probably for longer than Keaton had, and by doing this, I might be driving a permanent breach between Keaton and me.  On the other hand, I did trust Lori and her household’s mission.

My statement
still made me queasy.

A flash of jealous rage washed over Focus Teas’ body, which I hadn’t expected.  “Rizzari?  She and her delusions of rebellion?  She’s little more than a pawn of Su
zi Schrum and she’s the last person I’d ever want to see tag you.”

I
had struck a nerve I didn’t know existed in Teas.  I had pegged her as a dilettante, a flake, but in her hatred of Schrum, she was driven and fully committed.  Worse, I realized that when Teas said she would use me to keep recalcitrant Focuses in line, Lori was her number one target.

My dance with Teas had
always been a lost cause.  Damn it!

“Sorry,” I said.  “No tag.”

Teas actually shook her fist at me (in a lady-like fashion).  “You’re a fool!  You’re making the same mistake you made when you turned down Arm Keaton’s offer to break you out of the St. Louis Detention Center.”

So the Focuses
had learned the details of my story?  Crap.  This also meant Focus ‘Officer Canon’ had learned the hidden parts of my story as well, would use them against me, and probably had.  Double crap!

Oh, and yes I did fully appreciate the irony of the situation.  Teas was most surely correct.

“You want me out as an ally?  Release me.  No tag.”

From the far end of the viewing room, by the doorway out, Teas stopped and glared at me.  I
sensed a rustling in my juice, as if my juice slipped away.  What was she doing to me!  No!  My Arm instincts kicked in and I was two steps closer to Teas when I realized the closer I got to her, the easier she could steal my juice.  Until I got to her and drew her juice, my way.

The instinct was right if there wasn’t a goddamned Monster-proof net in the way, but in this situation those instincts were flat out wrong.

“Get your fucking hands off my juice, bitch!” I screamed and hit her with my full predator.  “I’ll take your intestines out of your motherfucking eye sockets if you don’t let go!”  Full predator wasn’t enough; I did something I had never done before and burned juice into my predator effect.