Code of Conduct (32 page)

“Fine, fine,” Jani nodded. “Bossy-assed mainliner.” A flash of movement captured her attention. She turned. “
You
!”

Betha Concannon stood in the middle of the office, her clothing rumpled, her hair tangled. She tried to speak, then winced and held a hand to her throat. Jani saw the steel blue scarf knotted around her neck and looked at Yolan, who regarded her levelly. “She wanted something to cover the bruises. She's sensitive about them.”

“Well, bully for her,” Jani replied. “She's left her best friend to be accused of her murder. She betrayed everyone she worked with and for. She's a liar and a cheat and an accomplice in Lyssa van Reuter's murder! And she's one of ours, damn it! She should have known better!”

“Being colony's no guarantee of goodness, Captain.” Yolan spoke slowly, as though reprimanding a child. “You've lived out there long enough to know that. Besides, you knew what Betha was about, deep down. That's why you worried about her. But you cut her slack because she was colony. Because she was a dexxie. Maybe if you'd trusted her less, she'd still be alive.”

“Not fair, Yolan,” Borgie protested. His words came muffled and slurred, spoken as they were through lips now swollen and blistered. “Don't put that on her, too.”

“But she wants it that way.” Yolan's eyes never left Jani's face. “She wants to be nailed to the cross. She'll even pass out hammers and spikes to all comers, with instructions where to pound.” The corporal's head lolled against the back of her chair. Borgie propped it upright with a gentle hand. “Doesn't help, does it, Cap? Won't help till the day you die, and after that, it won't matter.” She looked at Betha. “No one deserves to die like she did. Do something about
that
. Take care of what you can.”

Jani looked out the window, to the floor, the walls, everywhere but at the three people who stared at her silently. The three dead people.
How far gone are you, when the ghosts are more human than you
? Her right arm itched to the point of pain. Pinkish yellow seepage stained the medcoat sleeve. Her right shoulder felt hot. Breathing had become difficult, as though she wore a clogged respirator. She forced herself to look at Betha. “It was Ridgeway.”

Betha nodded slowly, using her hand to stop the movement.

“You'd been working for him. All along.”

Another labored nod.

“Ridgeway helped you bugger the docs Lyssa took to Nueva. He had an accomplice at the hospital, a doctor who purposely botched Lyssa's regularly scheduled take-down. Lyssa made it to Chira before hallucinating herself into the rocks, and Ridgeway thought the one person who knew Evan had transmitted the order to bomb my transport was dead.” Jani paused to look at Borgie. What did she expect to find on his charring face, an expression of surprise?

“But you had friends at the PM's,” she continued. “They told you what Cao and Ulanova suspected. You made friends
with Lyssa before she left on that final trip, and she entrusted the proof she had compiled to you. At first, you planned to turn it all over to Ridgeway, in exchange for whatever. Then you got greedy. It never occurred to you he could kill you, too.”

Betha's mouth moved in mute pleading. She managed a sharp squeak when sounds of activity reached them from the anteroom.

Jani slipped behind the shelter of a shoulder-high plant. Betha, Borgie, and Yolan remained where they were. Durian Ridgeway burst in, walking through his cowering victim on the way to the desk. He began a frenzied search, opening and slamming drawers until, with a bark of relief, he pulled a grey documents pouch from the bottom drawer and tossed it on his desktop. With Borgie and Yolan as fascinated bookends, he dumped out the contents and flipped through the pages, muttering under his breath.

Jani stepped out from behind the plant, ignoring Borgie's frantic gesturing for her to stay put. “It's not in there, Granny.”

Ridgeway tensed. He looked up slowly. “Risa.” His hands dropped below the level of the desktop. “I thought you were in the infirmary.”

“I was.” She took a step toward the desk in an attempt to circle around to Ridgeway's side, but he quickly countered, edging away in the opposite direction. “The Consulate comlog. The one that shows the call Evan made to the fuel depot. It's not there.” Jani sidled closer to the desk, but stopped as Ridgeway backed away in the direction of the door. “It's in the hands of whoever Ginny Doyle is really working for. Judging from your behavior, that person isn't you.”

“Captain Kilian. Jani. The call recorded on that log does not constitute proof. Our personnel at the depot were in constant communication with Consulate staff. Quite necessary, considering the circumstances. Surely you remember?”

“The way you're acting bitches that argument to hell, Durian. You raised the alarm that Betha was missing. Then you steered Doyle after Steve. When Steve disappeared, you shifted everyone's sights toward me. Anything to deflect attention from Evan. He told me you'll do what you think you
have to. You're not stupid. If everything's green, why bother with it? Why clean it if it ain't dirty?” Jani watched Ridgeway's hands, still below desktop level.

He has a shooter
. She glanced at Borgie, who now stood by a sofa on the other side of the room. Betha stood beside him, one hand at her throat, the other over her mouth. Yolan sat on the sofa, her legs propped on the low table in front of her, her arms limp, hands in her lap. “He's armed, Cap,” she said.

“I know,” Jani replied.

Ridgeway stiffened. “Still talking to yourself, Jani? Who answers? Riky Neumann?”

“Never. Why waste a good hallucination?” The burning itch in her arm had receded to a dull scratchiness. “I see Betha. She's over there, by the sofa.” She raised her arm to point and Ridgeway flinched to one side as though anticipating a blow. He brought the shooter up and pointed it at her chest. Direct line of fire. One shot. Crack the sternum. Stop the heart. Not even augie could fight this one off.

This time, it would take.

Here's the hammer
. Jani took another step toward him.
The spikes
. Another.
What are you waiting for
?

Betha's mouth opened in a soundless scream.

The shooter rasped. Jani stumbled to her left as the impact half spun her around. A fleeting pain, in her left shoulder, just above the joint. Then numbness. Her lungs cleared, her breathing eased. She looked down. Her arm jerked uselessly. What remained of it. The exit wound had obliterated the hand. Half the forearm. Rose pink carrier dripped through gaps in the heat-sealed stump, splattering over the synthetic flesh that now soiled the carpet. She looked at Ridgeway, who stared back in stunned silence. “You missed, you goddamn office boy. Point-blank range, and you fucking
missed
.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is that your challenge, Jani?” She could smell the hate as he raised the shooter again.

So slow. He moves. So slow
. Jani feinted to her right, then darted close. Right hand raised, fingers straight. Her sudden movement distracted Ridgeway. He discharged the shooter off target—the pulse packet brushed her left cheek just as she
thrust at his neck just above the base of the throat. He collapsed to his knees, eyes goggled, grabbing at his throat as his breath wheezed and whistled like air being sucked through a cracked pipe.

“How does it feel, you son of a bitch?” she asked softly as she stepped behind him. The time for ritual had passed. The curve where his neck joined his shoulder whispered,
here
. This time, she listened. Felt augie's strength reinforce her own. Raised her right hand. Brought it down.

“Cap'n?” Borgie drew alongside her. They watched Ridgeway's body until it stopped twitching. Then Jani turned to her sergeant. His face was a crusted mass now. Eyes glazed white. He crackled when he moved. “Wuh be'er go.”

Jani edged out into the hall and looked at herself in one of the safety-dome mirrors set in the ceiling. She had folded the empty documents pouch over her ruined forearm. The shooter graze had left a reddened brush burn on her cheek.
I look like a lab accident
. She smiled grimly.
I am a lab accident
.

“See anything, Cap?”

Jani checked the mirror, saw nothing behind her. Then she turned. Yolan smiled up at her, broken body bundled into a wheeled office chair. Betha pushed. Borgie brought up the rear, T-40 raised and ready. Tiny gouts of flame licked from beneath his flak jacket. His face was…unrecognizable.

Jani remembered where she was now.
Interior Doc Control
. She led the way, past the offices, toward the elevators. At every junction, she'd look up at a dome mirror and chart her solitary progress.
When I look up and don't see myself, I'll know I'm dead
.

Empty elevators. Deserted hallways. No one to challenge her, to stop her.
Like they're giving me room to maneuver
. Jani and her silent trio bypassed empty offices, entered a large anteroom, stopped before a door.
Like they want me to come here
.

“Once you go through that door, you're on your own, Cap,” Yolan said. She'd become spokesman for the trio, seeing as she was the only one who could talk. “We can't help you.”

“I know.”

“Decision time, Cap.”

“I know.” Jani gripped the door handle and twisted. Sand shifted beneath her feet. Desert wind brushed her face and riffled her hair.

Evan stood at the bar in his dimly lit office. “Excuse me,” he said peevishly when he realized he had company. “I don't recall requesting a med—” He tensed as Jani stepped forward. “Jan.” He offered a weak smile. “Glad to see you're up and about.”

Jani let the doc pouch fall to the carpet. Tried to let it fall. The nappy material had stuck to the carrier that had crusted on the end of her stump; she wound up having to rip it away. Cloth parted company from synthetic flesh with a keening rasp. Evan moaned and gripped the edge of the bar with both hands. His eyes squinched shut.

“No one even tried to stop me, Evan. Did you ever get the feeling you were being set up?” She walked to the sitting area near his desk. “Have a seat. Bring your bottle. You may need it.”

Evan remained in place for a time, breathing slowly, eyes still closed. When he opened them, he looked at Jani sidelong, sighing when he saw her settled into a chair.

“What did you think I was, Ev, a symptom?”

“No.” He gathered up a glass and decanter. “That would have implied good luck. Mine ran out long ago.” He sat in the chair across from her and deposited his glassware on a side table. “What's this about a setup?”

“I think certain people wanted me to come here. Tie up loose ends, save them the trouble.”

“I hope you listened to the message I sent last night. It's true, you know. I do love you.”

“You're a liar.”

“You think so? You wouldn't say that if you'd heard the fights Durian and I had over you. When we figured out you might be alive, he wanted to send someone to Whalen to kill you. I had to bribe him to leave you alone. I promised to wangle him a spot on the ballot in the next general election. Seems he has dreams of a deputy ministry. For starters.” His hand shook. Ice rattled like chattering teeth. “I tried to convince him he operated better behind the scenes, but he insisted. I'm afraid exposure to the voting public is going to prove a shock for old Durian.” He looked at Jani, taking care to avoid her mangled arm. “I'm hanging my janitor out to dry. That alone should convince you I'm sincere.”

“You may have had a sincere moment or two in your life, Evan. I doubt they involved me.” Without warning, Jani's left shoulder jerked. A sharp pain sang down her arm, flicked around her wrist, cramped her fingers. “I was just something to shake in your father's face.” She looked down at her left thigh. Her left hand rested there. She could feel its weight, its trembling. She just couldn't see it.

“As I recall, you enjoyed upsetting your colony friends with me, as well.”

“It doesn't matter.” She watched the hand that wasn't there. Gradually, the shuddering eased to an occasional twitch. “It was a long time ago.”

“I didn't think you'd trust me right away. I'm not an idiot, Jan.” Evan emptied his glass. “I thought after you settled in, got used to things, realized how I felt, you'd see how good you could have it here.” He cast a longing look toward the decanter. “Now, here it is, three days later. Plaster's flaking off the ceiling, and knickknacks are clattering on the shelves. The end is near.” His eyes grew liquid as tears brimmed. “How much longer do I have?”

“Not long.” Jani poked her left thigh with her invisible hand, felt the tiny impacts against her phantom fingertips. “Doyle's set the wheels in motion. She always suspected your complicity in Lyssa's death. She's working for someone else, by the way. Your Virginia. Service plant, maybe. Or else she's thrown in with one of the other Houses.”

The comment fired some life back into Evan's face. His
jaw firmed; his eyes sharpened. “Which one?”

“Your guess is worth more than mine. I'm surprised your janitor hadn't already flushed that out.”

“Where is Durian, by the way? We were supposed to meet fifteen minutes ago.” Evan waited for Jani to answer, fidgeted with his glass when she didn't. “I didn't kill Lyssa, Jan. She had evidence of my sins hidden all over the city. She told me if anything happened to her, she had someone in place to insure the evidence would be sent to the right people.”

“That person was Betha Concannon.” Jani etched figures in the air with her invisible fingers. “Bad choice on her part—Betha worked for Durian. Now Betha's dead.” Her hand started to ache from the exercise. She stopped flexing.

“And Durian? He always notifies me when he'll be late. This isn't like him.”

“I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation.”

“If there is, I'd like to hear it, please.”

Jani held both her hands out in front of her. The one she could see felt the same as the one she couldn't. “The alliance with Ulanova changed things with regard to Lyssa. With her aunt's backing, she became dangerous, instead of merely embarrassing.” She straightened her left leg, shook the pins-and-needles feeling from her left foot. Funny that life should return to it now, when the rest of her felt so dead. “Do you remember that play they ran at the Consulate the night we met?”

“Jani.” Evan watched her flex, then reached for the decanter. “
Becket
,” he said as he poured. Liquor splashed against the ice and onto the table. “It was
Becket
.”

“
Becket
.” Sharp sounds. Jani had to concentrate in order to repeat them without softening them into Vynshàrau.
Mbe-heth
. “I remember you liked it. I found it stupid. Man hires his friend to do a job, then gets pissed when said friend actually does it. And now look at us.” Her chest felt tight. “Life imitates art.” She touched her right arm. Even through the medcoat sleeve, it felt hot, swollen.

Evan leaned toward her. “Are you all right, Jan? Your lips are turning blue.”

“I'm fine.”

“Your eyes don't look right. There's a shooter graze on your cheek.”

“I'm fine.”

“Where's Durian?”

“I think I know what happened.” Jani stared at Evan until he eased back. “You and Durian were talking. You'd just found out Lyssa had made the connection between your comlog entry and my transport crash. With Ulanova's help, she'd bring you down. After all, it was your big sin. No Acton to blame for this one—it was your call. You could have stopped it and you didn't.”

“My father—”

“—was three weeks from Shèrá on the fastest ship he had. You could have handled it. Missed messages. Lost records. Lied. But no. You wanted to be the hero. The one who pulled the van Reuter nuts out of the fire.” Jani hesitated as her heart skipped a beat. In that instant, her breathing eased.

Hey, augie
.

Hey, Cap
.

“I didn't know you were on that transport.” Evan reached out to her. “Riky told me he'd keep you out of it. He promised me—I made him promise when you left the city with him. Then I didn't hear from him anymore. No answer to the messages I sent him, and the ones from my father started coming in one an hour. Always the same. ‘Do something, boy—we're depending on you. Act like a van Reuter for once.'” Evan's own breathing grew ragged. “Jani, I was alone. Scared. I'd acted as go-between for Rik and Dad—that made me culpable. Violating the Bilateral Accord was a treasonous offense. I faced prison. Maybe worse. I didn't know what else to do!”

Jani heard a familiar sound filter in from the anteroom. The sizzling crack of a shooter. “I didn't know what else to do, either.” One report. Another. Another.
Twenty-six times. Before the dawn I will have fired twenty-six times
.

“They're all dead, Jan. We're still alive.” Evan knelt before her, his hands closing over her visible one. “You said you wanted to remember what happened. You can do that here just as well as in prison. If you feel you have to suffer to make it count, trust me, you will. You'll have to bury
yourself somewhere in Chicago. I'll have to resign. But I'll know you're here, and we'll be able to get together eventually. After the dust settles.”

Jani eased out of Evan's grip. “You knew. All of it. About the patients. About Lyssa. Betha. When you left me that message ordering me to stop my investigation—Durian had just told you he'd killed her, hadn't he?”

“Jan, I didn't mean for any of it to happen.”

She caressed the side of his face, ran her thumb over his unshaven cheek. He closed his eyes, rested his head on her knee, didn't even flinch as her hand slipped down around his neck. “I watched a man destroy his face with his bare hands. I helped pull what was left of my corporal from beneath tons of rubble. Evan,” she said as he looked up, “there are some things you can't negotiate away.”

“Jan—”

She pushed him away. “What was the name of Becket's friend? The king?”

Evan glanced toward the door. “Henry.”

“Henry.” Jani could feel the heat generated by too many people pressed into the Consulate auditorium, hear the rustle of evening gowns. “The one scene I remember. Henry's with his friends, his knights. His janitors, like Ridgeway was your janitor—”

“What do you mean, ‘was'?”

“—and I'm sure you were drunk, like he was. Henry the king, losing his grip—”

“Jani?”

“—looking for someone to blame—”

“No.”

“—knowing if she were dead, your problems would be over.”

“Please!”

“Will no one rid me of this dam-ned priest.” Jani's soft voice rang like a shout in her ears. “Lyssa and Betha. Make that dam-ned
priests
.” Or maybe the reverberation was only in her head. “So Ridgeway maneuvered his mops and buckets and rid you of your priests. Ulanova didn't know about the comlog. You were home free.” She coughed. Her arm ached
again, but it no longer felt hot. Quite the opposite. She shivered.

“Jani?” Evan had slunk back to his chair. “Where is Durian now?”

“I left him in his office.”

“Oh. Are you going to leave me in my office, too?”

“No.” Jani watched Evan's gaze flick toward the door again. “They want me to kill you, I think. Whoever Ginny works for. Whichever of your colleagues is most fed up with you. But God, I really hate being maneuvered, and I'll be damned if I'll be the tool for another Family bastard.” She smiled. “Besides, you knew. And you'll remember, too. That's the one thing we'll always have in common.”

Evan swallowed. “We could have more,” he said carefully. “We could have everything again—” He shot out of his chair, trying to dart past her to the door. But he moved too slowly, like Ridgeway had. Jani rose, kicked out, caught the side of his knee. The joint cracked with the wet snap of damp wood. He fell to the carpet and lay gasping, thumping the floor with his fist.

She waited until he looked at her with pain-glazed eyes. “I don't want to kill you. I want us both alive when they come. I want you around for a long time. Now I'll have someone to share my ghosts with.”

Evan's shallow breathing gradually slowed, deepened. Jani couldn't say the same for her own. Her chest felt heavy. Her left leg cramped. Her right leg was the numb one now. She sat back down, and waited.

“Captain Kilian?”

The voice came from the other side of the door. A man's voice. She didn't recognize it.

“Captain Kilian, I'm going to open the door. I want you to come out here. Please advance slowly and keep your hands where I can see them. That's for your own good as well as mine.”

Mine
? Did that mean her visitor was alone? Augie tried to rattle Jani's bones in anticipation of a struggle, but she couldn't oblige with the customary battle chill. The only chill she felt left her clammy and numb. Dark patches flecked before her eyes.

“Captain?” The office door hushed open. “Please come out.”

She struggled to her feet. With every incremental rise, the dark patches waxed, then waned. As she took her first steps, the room seemed to tilt. She grabbed the chair for support.

“Captain?”

A different voice now. Its source filled the doorway. Tall. Blond. Steel blue uniform wrapped around a steel blue spine. Red tabs on either side of his collar. Matching red wounds on his cheek.

“Lieutenant Pascal,” she said.

Lucien fingered his shooter, still encased in the holster at his side. Then he drew to attention and snapped a salute, the sort that made stiff Service polywool crack like a wind-whipped flag on a pole.

Jani touched her forehead in return. “Save it for the A-G, Lieutenant. Allow me what's left of my sideline pride.” The floor seemed to shift as though she walked across a deflating pontoon. She turned, found herself within striking distance of another man. Shorter. Stockier. Black hair. Beard trimmed to a sharp point. He offered a courtly bow.

“Dr. Calvin Montoya, Captain.” He wore medwhites, carried a large pouch slung over one shoulder, held a large, featureless black cube in his hand. His dark eyes narrowed as he studied her face, then her mangled arm. “I've been charged with seeing you safe.”

“Oh.” Jani looked from Montoya to the cube, then back. “How is John?”

The point of Montoya's beard twitched. “He's as ever. I'll tell him you inquired. I'm sure he'll be—”

“Surprised?” She looked down at the cube again. “Time for the take-down? Well, Doctor, let's get it over with.”

“Yes.” Montoya's expression turned relieved. “I think we need to hurry.” He held up the cube and fingered one side. Red lights glittered across the face Jani could see. “Watch the lights, Captain. Don't turn away. Concentrate on the sound of my voice and watch the lights.” As Montoya continued to murmur directions, a tracery of red, like shooting stars, played across the cube face. Jani found herself tracking the flickering as a flower follows its sun. Her knees weakened.

“Watch the lights, Captain. Don't turn away. Watch—”