Conscience of the Beagle (10 page)

I TAKE THREE
separate
cabs and send them in different directions. By the time I arrive at the Meat Market on God’s Gift, it’s ten o’clock.

I order the cab to stay. “Tal Hendrix here?” I ask the doorman.

When he answers, “Door three,” my knees go watery.

Here. Alive. But the amber light is lit above Mrs. Hendrix’s door. I was worried about her, and all the time . . .

So furious that I nearly leave. I stand near the door to Room One and stare at that light. There’s a sick cramp up the right side of my body. A throbbing ache behind my eye.

Hold her. All I want to do. Just hold her for a while. Why shouldn’t I? I remember how she laughed. Lila had a laugh like that. It forced me to laugh with her. And I’m not a happy man.

Five minutes already. How long will this take? Even if it’s a fraud, how can she stand it?

Before Lila, I had cheap whores. Quick blow jobs in dark alleys. Hot mouths. Tight mouths. Felt good. Their faceless heads. I could cup my hands around those skulls and span them. Fragile as eggs. I remember thinking how easy . . .

Are you all right?
the last whore asked me.

Fine. I’m fine
, I said.
Just a little tired, that’s all.

For a moment I wanted . . .

Did I do something wrong?

I zipped up and paid her. Big tip. Enough money to forget what I’d been thinking. Hated thoughts like that. Sick. Dirty, like the men I arrest. And then Lila, and everything changed. She was so proud, my wife. Always a little aloof. Walks like a M-9, I told Kanz.

Never wanted her like that, never asked that of her. And always wanted to see her face. Look at me, I’d say. I need to remember, I’d think. And I’d keep the lights burning.

The amber above Room Three turns green. The door opens and . . .

God. Vanderslice walks out. What has he done to her? That sick bastard. How could he? Doesn’t see me yet. Not smiling. Grim. He’s grim. Putting his card back into his wallet.

Have to hide before he sees me. Can’t fight. Not hurt like this. I stagger backward. The door to Room One opens and
—
shit
—
I’m falling. Reach out. Fumble for the doorjamb. Too late.

I hit the floor with a whoof. Pain knifes through my broken ribs. The door shuts and someone
—
cheap whore
—
laughs.

The camera is pointed my way. “Hiding?”

They must see it all the time. “Yes.” I clamber awkwardly to my feet.

“Boss? Preacher?”

I think about that. “A boss.”

“Want a blow job while you’re here? Might as well. You’ll have to pay for it, anyway.”

“No.” Sick fear of what I might want to do.

“Well. Your money.”

Vanderslice. Her kneeling before him. Not struggling at all. It might be fair if they fought back. If they had a chance. Fragile skulls in my hand. Not safe to have that power. How could anyone hurt something so . . . Did he? What if she needs me? Maybe he’s standing
—
waiting
—
just outside the door.

“What kind of uniform is that?”

I’ve forgotten about her. But she’s the kind you can easily forget. I smile gently into the camera. “I’m from Earth.”

“Oh. You’re kind of cute. And you look so sad. I could cheer you up.”

“I’m sure you could.”

I check the time. Another five minutes have passed. He’s out there. I feel it. When I run my card through the reader, my hand shakes.

“Come back and see me sometime,” she says as I leave, and she sounds so lonely.

The hall’s empty. The light above Room Three is green.

The door opens and I walk through.

“Mrs. Hendrix? It’s Major Holloway. Are you all right?” No answer. I stare at the white wall and see her. Dead in a pool of blood. Funny how something so red, so bright, can look black in the shadows.

“Mrs. Hendrix!”

“Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

Silence. I come closer. Lower my voice. If I could just see her. Touch her. Never hurt her. Never. “Mrs. Hendrix? What did Vanderslice want?”

“What does anyone want here?” Sad voice. Sad room. It smells of quick sex, and dirt cakes the yellowing corners.

“Did he threaten you, Mrs. Hendrix? I have to know.”

Faint but unmistakable. The sound of a woman crying.

I can’t stand to hear it. Can’t stand this. “Please. Mrs. Hendrix. Let me help you.” How could he do that to her? Have her like that? Faceless. She wouldn’t fight. Let him do anything.

“Mrs. Hendrix? I think John Vanderslice may have been responsible for your husband’s death. Please. We need to talk. I’m afraid you may be in danger.”

A response so quiet I can’t understand it.

“I’m sorry? What was that?”

“Go away.”

Still crying. Better if I leave now. Afraid to make things worse. I start to tremble. Get him. I’ll make him pay for this. I’m shaking so hard I have to run my card through twice before the reader can scan it.

THE STREET
is
empty but for the guard and my cab. The door opens and I crawl inside. Ribs hurt. Head pounds. Endorphin boosters make me sleepy. I watch the dingy streets flash by. The pools of light under the sparse street lamps. I doze and dream about fire and . . .

The cab’s stopped. “Cab?”

It doesn’t answer.

Shadowy figures at the mouth of an alley. If I could see their faces, I know they’d be . . . Kanz at my shoulder. Face in tight check. So sad. His voice was so sad.
Please, Dyle. Don’t look.

Don’t want to dream about this.

A shadow steps off the curb and starts toward me. Click of heels against pavement. Coppery taste of fear in my mouth.

No. No. I’m awake. I’m on the south side of Hebron. Not the alley on M-4. The man’s closer. Going to finish the job he started. I’ll be murdered here. In the dark.

I palm the door release. It doesn’t open. “Cab!”

Big man. Burly. Hand in his jacket pocket. I recognize that stance. Used it before. Can’t be. Has a softgun. Not a God’s Warrior. Jesus. Colonial Security.

Pound the door with both fists. “Cab!”

A beefy face in the window. The door opens. Gasp of night air. An arm clubs me in the chest. Drives me backward. Sends fireworks of pain through my ribs.

“Minister wants to talk.”

Suddenly Vanderslice is here. Climbing inside. Sitting and straightening his jacket. “Hi, Major. How are you feeling? God. You look just terrible.”

I bring my fist up fast. Not fast enough. He flinches, and my knuckles barely graze him.

“Hey! Take it easy! What . . .”

Kill him. I’ll hurt him like he hurt her. The door behind me opens. I topple backward into space. The man catches me. Arms tight around my chest. Pain like splinters of glass.

“It’s okay. I’m fine. Don’t hurt him, Kevin.”

The grip loosens. I gulp air.

Blood trickles from Vanderslice’s nose. He pulls the vanity mirror down from the roof. Daubs at the blood with a handkerchief. “I don’t know. Doesn’t look broken to me. What do you think, Kev?”

Voice behind my ear. Hot, moist breath. “No, sir. Don’t think he broke it.”

Vanderslice holds the handkerchief against his upper lip. Studies himself in the mirror. “Why’d you want to do that, Major?”

“Tal Hendrix.”

He turns. Wide green eyes. The glow from a nearby streetlight bisects his face. A yin-yang: all goodness and bright above; occult darkness below. “Close the door, Kevin.”

“But sir . . .”

“Close the door.”

The guard pushes me forward. I nearly fall into Vanderslice’s lap. The door slides shut and I lean against it.

“Why Tal?” Vanderslice’s nose has stopped bleeding. He folds and then unfolds the handkerchief.

“Son of a bitch. How could you hurt her like that?”

“I never . . .”

“Don’t give me that shit. She was crying.”

A wince. He looks down at the handkerchief again.

“You threatened her. You . . .”

“No. Come on.”

“Abandoned her there. Jesus Christ. How could you do that? That job . . . what she does. She was married to a scientist. Must have had a good life up until now. How can you let her degrade herself like
—”

“Degrade?” A surprised laugh. “No, Major. No, no. She likes it.”

A rush of fury and adrenal in. He sees my fists bunch and throws up his hands.

“Hold it. Just cool off, okay? The Meat Markets are
—”

“I know.”

“Don’t be so angry. It’s all done by machine
—”

“That makes it all right? They’re still using her. She’s still
—”
A faceless, nameless fuck. “She’s nothing to them. Just a
—”
Hot mouth.

Nodding. Trying to get a word in. “Right. Right. I agree with you. But Tal thinks it’s funny.”

“Funny?” The word deafens me.

“Well, I suppose there’s something pretty absurd about the whole thing, really. If you stop and think about it. She keeps the camera on them so she can see their faces. And there’s the man on one side of the wall, with his . . . Okay. You’ve been there. You get the picture. And that machine on the other, chugging away. Tal says she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. So. There you have it. Funny. A big joke. And when it’s all over, she tells them how good they were. How big. You know the kind of stuff . . .”

Whore talk.

“Go figure. But she tells me it gives her a sense of power.”

No one should have power like that.

“Hey, look. It wasn’t my idea. I didn’t want her to work there. But women don’t have any rights. And she refused to let a man
—
any man
—
take care of her.”

I was worried about her. Felt sorry for her. And all the time she wanted to. Liked it. Thought everything was a joke.

“She couldn’t sign the papers to get the insurance money. Couldn’t transfer the house deed into her name. ‘Fuck them,’ she told me. And she does. Every night. And bites her lip to keep from laughing.”

Vanderslice reaches into his pocket. A softgun? Does he have a softgun? Or clandestine orders from Colonel Yi?

Stupid. I’m so utterly fucked I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. This goes higher than Yi. It goes right to the Executive Council. To the Prime Minister. That’s how far it has to go.

Vanderslice brings out a tin. Opens it and offers it to me. “Z-Tabs,” he says. “Want one?”

What’s he trying to pull? “They’re illegal.”

“God, Major. Really.” He sets a Z-Tab on his tongue and puts the tin away. “I’ve been taking them for my nerves.”

A motion in the shadows. I tense. One of Vanderslice’s plainclothes God’s Warriors patrolling the street.

I say, “All right. Get to the point. Just give me my orders.”

A sigh from the dark. “No sense ordering you back to the hotel, I suppose. Security’s been breached.” Vanderslice’s words slur. His eyes are half-staff. Already in the grip of the drug.

My eyes follow the guard as he walks behind the cab.

“Listen. I don’t know what Tal said to you, but Paulie was my friend.”

What’s the guard doing back there? “The editorials
—”

“No, no, no. Not the editorials. Haven’t you figured it out? I told him to write those.”

Wait. Wait a minute.

“Paulie was working for me.”

Everything falls apart. Everything. My world shatters.

“Paulie kept an eye on things for me. He wrote the editorials as cover. You’ve heard of our unrest here. People are disgruntled. Happens in a theocracy. Paulie was apolitical. Loved science. Didn’t love Tal like that. A shame, but that was okay. She never loved him, either.”

Didn’t love him. Never any grief on her face. Not like in Szabo’s. In
mine. They lived together. Never loved each other. And then he died. So pathetic.

“She married him so she wouldn’t have to have children. It’s expected of women here. But he never wanted children, never wanted a wife. They were partners, sort of. Liked each other a lot. Anyway, Paulie gave me names. No one knew, not even the God’s Warriors.”

The guard moves to the sidewalk. Peers into the alley. “Did she know?”

“Tal?” He shrugs. “Couldn’t tell her the whole story. She would have put two and two together.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, disappearances. That kind of thing.”

No capital punishment on Tennyson. That’s what the files say. No capital punishment. But . . . “You kill people. Paulie Hendrix gave you the names of the revolutionaries, and you killed them.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s my job. Protecting Marvin. And so what? Big deal. Come on, Major. Stop looking at me like that. You can’t let anarchists run loose. Four. Okay? Four anarchists. And a few more murderers or so. Marvin really believes that crap about Christian charity. He thinks God turns your life around. You know better. Poor Marv lives in a dream world.”

Paulie Hendrix gave him names. Vanderslice killed them. Tal never loved. Not really. Laughed more than she grieved.

“That’s why I know the evidence the God’s Warriors found is bogus. I know the revolutionaries. They hold their little secret meetings. They sit around and complain about Marvin. But now somebody’s getting into DEEPs. Somebody’s making and setting off bombs without leaving DNA markers. How does somebody do that? Even the smartest criminal screws up every once in a while. And where are the explosives coming from? Listen, Major. I know everything and everybody who steps foot on this planet. I know to the gram where our home-grown chemicals are. See what I mean? How does that happen?”

He daubs at his nose. Does it hurt? Can anything, anything at all, hurt him?

“Why did you leave the hotel like that?” Annoyed at me now. Not angry. Not murderous. Just annoyed. “I had everything set up. All my men were in place. All the surveillance. And then you go and mess things up. And I nearly got on that bus. Do you realize that? Made my men jumpy. So I’d watch it, Major. Just a friendly warning. And another piece of advice: I expect you to keep me up to date on what you find. Understand?”

My breath stops as the plainclothes guard approaches. He raps lightly on the window and points his watch.

“Oops. Have to go. Marv’s expecting some sort of report. He’s frantic. Thinks God’s testing him. Go figure. So, we’re communicating now, right? No games?”

Talia Hendrix wasn’t laughing. She was crying. I heard her cry.

The guard taps the cab’s hood. Vanderslice nods at him. Holds up a finger. “There’ll be a contingent of my guards around you at all times. They’ll try not to be conspicuous. They’ll stay out of your way. But I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

He gets out and walks across the street. The door slides shut. A guard steps from the shadows, lifts something. Points it. The cab leaps forward.

I look back. Vanderslice and his men have already melted into the darkness. Two blocks down a cab is trailing me.