The Administration Series (129 page)

Toreth outlined the progress of the investigation so far. He finished with a problem. "I can't find Jon Kemp, though, which is good and bad. It'd be helpful if he'd confirm what I got from Harper, but this whole thing could get complicated if my visit to his flat comes out. If we find enough evidence to move on Kemp, we won't need Jonny-boy, anyway."

"Ah, now there I can help. He's in a high-level private re-education centre. Booked in first thing on Monday morning."

It was Toreth's turn to stare. "A what?"

"Well, it's not how they describe themselves in the brochure, but that's what they are. Expensive, exclusive, but they're still going to work his mind over so thoroughly that by the time they've finished he probably won't even remember who you are, never mind what he did to you. Or to anyone else."

"So Kemp's written him off?"

"So it would seem. You must've been the last straw. Kemp's probably hoping to make sure he doesn't cause any more embarrassment in the future."

Or any more than he would cause by merely existing. Kemp's corporation would never accept his son as a successor now, not after a visit to any kind of re-education centre, however carefully euphemised.

"How did you find out? Have you got his personal comm?"

Warrick shook his head, slightly sheepish. "Nothing so impressive, I'm afraid. I heard it at a business lunch yesterday, from one of the other sponsors. As you can imagine, it's news that's making the rounds in bastard corporate wanker circles."

It dawned on Toreth that Warrick was never going to let that comment go. Ignoring him seemed like the only hope of nipping it in the bud. "Right, well, that makes it easier. Concentrate on Kemp. Have you got his security file?"

"He has expensive friends. It's the blandest piece of rubbish I've seen since I read Marcus Toth's."

"Christ, I'd forgotten all about that." Toreth laughed. "Seems like years ago."

Warrick grinned in response. "It was. But I remember Marcus
very
well. However, the point is that it's probably safe to assume the old file held some interesting tidbits, if he went to so much trouble to have it hidden. There may be copies in the system somewhere, although you are no doubt better placed than I to find them."

"Once we're moving in on Kemp, I'll get Sara onto it — I don't want him to hear that we're coming. If you happened to come across a copy . . . "

Warrick nodded. "Anything else?"

"The second problem is money. If he's still running the scheme there have to be fucking huge sums of euros washing around. Whether they go into Kemp Incorporated or straight to him, there must be a trail somewhere. Once he's arrested I can get Corporate Fraud digging, but it would help if I could tell them where to look. He'll shut everything down fast, if he gets half a chance."

"As I said, I've been looking into his finances, so that will give me somewhere to start. I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best."

"Thanks." Warrick's instant, unquestioning cooperation was a wonderful relief after the tiring politics of trying to get things done at I&I. "I wouldn't ask if — "

"I'm happy to help. If I wasn't, I would say so."

"Just be careful."

Warrick smiled again. "Do you know, that's exactly what Dilly said once she'd given up all hope of making me promise not to do anything stupid."

Well, Dillian wouldn't be very happy if she ever found out about
this
. Breakfast in Warrick's flat seemed like weeks ago now, rather than . . . how many days? Only three, which was still far too fucking long. He put his drink down. "Let's think about it later."

Warrick caught the change in mood at once. "Don't you need me to get started on Kemp's files?"

"Yes, but half an hour won't make any difference."

On the way into the bedroom, Toreth paused, looking at the chains on the wall. He hadn't taken them down because . . . because he would have known why he was doing it. While he hesitated, Warrick brushed past him and went over to them. Wrapping the chains round his hands he let them take his weight, hanging still, head bowed.

Toreth watched him, and although he didn't want to play that game right now, his pulse picked up speed. An automatic response to the curved back and strained breathing caught him up, rubbing away the pain-filled hours in handcuffs. The recent memories had a light hold, compared to the months — no, years — of enjoying this. Watching Warrick. Wanting him.

Wanting him so fucking much, sometimes it —

With a sigh, Warrick stood up and crossed the room again, examining the pressure marks from the links imprinted on his palms. When he looked up, his eyes were bright. "Beautiful," he said after a moment.

Toreth wasn't sure whether he meant the chains, the marks, or, rather less plausibly, himself. Before he could ask, Warrick smiled and said, "But not today."

"You don't have to . . . " What? Worry about it? Worry about me? Consider my fucking feelings?

Warrick shook his head. "That's not it. I'm thinking about too many other things. Thinking kills it. Some other time."

Was there anything Kemp hadn't managed to spoil? Glittering arrest prospect or not, right now he felt tired of the whole bloody mess. "Christ. How did this all turn into such a fuckup?"

"Forget it. We'll fix it." Brisk and dismissive, and this time Toreth didn't — couldn't — protest the plural. "Now, are we going to stand here all morning, or are you going to fuck me?"

Put like that, it wasn't a difficult choice.

Back at I&I, there was no news, so Toreth dealt with the rest of his cases — things which had piled up over the last couple of days. It was afternoon by the time Sedanioni finally called in to say that they had found Jack Almond. While she brought him in, Toreth considered whether to ask Justice for a priority waiver. Better not to waste the time. To start with, he'd see what he could get from a level one.

As far as Almond was concerned, Chris and his family were dead, and as long as Toreth didn't actually lie to confirm that the misapprehension would be very useful indeed.

In the interrogation room, Almond watched the recording from Chris's flat, and Toreth watched him. As time went on, the confidence drained out of Almond, leaving him pale and sweating.

The footage from inside showed the method of attack clearly — a hole through the door, the gas canister falling into the hall, hissing, then a long pause before the liquid splashed in after it. It was beautifully complimented by the camera view in the hallway, where Almond's face was eminently clear for most of the time, and he was obviously the one giving the orders. As the flames licked up, and the safety systems failed to engage, Toreth froze the picture on the screen.

"The Justice Sentencing System takes a dim view of people gassing flats they know contain seven-year-old kids and then pouring flammables in afterwards. It looks very, very premeditated."

"I didn't mean to kill them," Almond said mechanically. "It was supposed to be a warning."

Toreth laughed. "Really? So who was going to get them out of bed? Who was going to wake them up?" He leaned across the desk. "Who disabled the fucking fire suppressant system?"

The man shook his head.

"Oh, wait, no need for you to tell me. I have something here about that, too."

The pictures from the security station camera tap were not quite as clear, but Almond's face was visible for several seconds, as was which system he was tampering with.

"Lucky we caught that — someone seems to have wiped the official security logs. We talked to the guard, but he'd been called away to a false alarm in one of the flats. Didn't you trust him enough to pay him off? Can't say I blame you, because he was bloody useless when we spoke to him."

"I didn't . . . " Almond sighed. "All right. What do you want?"

"Much better. I want to know where the orders came from."

Almond's eyes flicked back to the tableau of flame, but he didn't say anything.

"With the evidence I've got, I can apply for a damage waiver without any problem. You will tell me, in the end. You know that — you know what's going to happen. Do we really have to go through it?"

Toreth held his breath, waiting for the reply. Arson without bodies wouldn't get him the kind of waiver he needed to break Almond quickly, and every delay increased the risk of Kemp getting away.

Finally, Almond nodded. "Gil Kemp sent us." He looked up, the decision to surrender restoring some of his composure. "Before I say anything else, I want protection. I want a guarantee of a light sentence. And I want it all in writing and signed by my Justice rep."

"It's yours."

It took him an hour to get the authorisation through. Back in the interrogation room, he took Almond quickly over the details of his mission to Chris's flat. Nothing much, and it was all Almond's word against Kemp's — worthless, really. In any case, it was only a lead-in for his real interest. Something to hold over Almond if he changed his mind.

"And now I want to know about Gil Kemp's involvement with the laundering of illegal conceptions."

It was one of the moments of his job that Toreth really enjoyed — something to look back on in his retirement. Almond stared at him, his mouth open, pure disbelief suffusing his face. Then he rallied and said, "I don't know
anything
about — "

"Shut up. Check the wording on your precious guarantee. You answer any questions I have, to the best of your ability, or the whole thing is void. I know you're involved." He smiled. "I have a witness."

"You — " He stared again, then said, "Harper isn't dead?"

"Very much alive and, like you, he's realised that his only fucking chance is to come very clean indeed. Neither of you means anything to me. If this doesn't turn into a serious case, I'm going to throw both of you to Justice, and for all I care they can bury you deep. You know what kind of sentences they hand down for conspiracy to evade population control laws. Kemp won't do anything for you, not once he hears how you tried to sell him out. I'm offering you the same deal I gave Harper — immunity and privileged informant status."

If Almond had seemed cooperative before, it was nothing compared to his eagerness to help now. "What do you want to know?"

"I need names. As high up as you know, and most importantly I want people who can confirm that Kemp's involved. People who've spoken to him about it, who've told him how things are going. People who've taken orders from him."

"The people I deal with are Doctor Corella Foley — she runs the hospital end of things — and Rajvir Rungren. He works for the DoP. No one else — Kemp likes to keep everyone separate. They'll be able to give you more."

"Has Kemp ever spoken to them about the scam, in person? Think about that very carefully."

Almond gave it at least the appearance of thought, before he nodded.

"Do you introduce the clients to the medics personally?"

He shook his head. "I don't meet any of them — that's all handled by agents who don't know my name or Mr Kemp's."

"So why Harper?"

"Mr Kemp asked me to deal with him."

Because he already knew Kemp was involved, so it was safer to keep him away from the agents. Toreth wondered why they hadn't just killed Chris — he bet the same thought had crossed Almond's mind.

"Have you got any details of clients, though?" Toreth asked. "Names and addresses?"

He nodded. "Some of them — people who still owe money. I don't know about the old names, but it's still hundreds of arrangements."

"What about the money?"

Almond shook his head. "It goes into a few accounts, and that's the last I see of it."

Not much, but something — at least it might help Warrick with his attempts to track the profits. "Give me the numbers."

That secured, he went outside and called Parsons in to finish getting the information from Almond. The names of the rest of Kemp's breeding customers would be helpful for the case, but not vital, not when there was bigger game in prospect now. Justice could sweep up the debris later, and with hundreds of names, at least, the DoP medical division would be putting in for a lot of overtime.

With Almond's enthusiastic confession as evidence, Justice were disconcertingly cooperative about the arrest warrants and damage waivers. Although Toreth had kept Kemp's name out of the picture so far, someone over there had clearly scented a big case in the pipeline. He wondered if they would be so keen once they realised exactly how high the stakes were.

The best thing about ostensibly respectable criminals was that it was easy to find them. By seven o'clock that evening, Chevril had brought in both Foley and Rungren. Toreth assessed their catch on the holding cell monitors. Both had come without making too much of a fuss, so if they worked quickly, they could get the information they needed before the arrests became common knowledge.

These two could give him Kemp — they had the status to be believed, and probably the documentary evidence to prove it. There would be no deals here, though. They were both major players in the scam, and they would go down with Kemp.

He flipped Chevril for the prisoners and lost, so he ended up with Rungren. When they'd been brought in, Foley had been all but confessing on the spot, and Chev always preferred to take the easy route.

As it was, Toreth had barely finished explaining the damage waiver to his prisoner when Chevril called him out to say that Foley had handed over Kemp's name, without any prompting, along with a list of other names on the medical end of the operation.

"Get their files, and run the pictures past Harper, see if he can give us a hit on the medics he dealt with," Toreth said to Chevril. "That'll be enough to push the waivers up a level or two."

Chevril didn't look much happier. "And what about Kemp?"

"Let me worry about him."

"I wish I could."

Chevril was fretting over nothing, Toreth thought as he walked down the corridor to the assigned interrogation room. One more independent confirming statement and they could pull Kemp in, and there would be nothing his lawyers could do to stop them, no matter how expensive. With any luck, Rungren wouldn't prove much harder to break than Foley.