The Administration Series (165 page)

"When I said the matter was closed, I meant it. Over, finis, never to be mentioned again." Silence for a moment, then Warrick added, "I've had a hell of a few days and, since you're responsible for them, I think the very least you can do is try to make up for it."

Was that a joke? Hard as it was to believe, there was a small crease at the corner of Warrick's mouth.

Relief flooded him. He turned away and ran his hands through his hair, composing himself. When he looked back, Warrick hadn't moved.

"Sure," Toreth said. "Fine. What do you want to do?"

Now he was sure of the smile, catching it as Warrick turned and began to stroll down the hall towards the kitchen. "Well, first of all, you can watch me make dinner. I came back from SimTech and fell asleep before I could eat, or do anything else. And after we've eaten, I'm open to suggestions."

For the first time Toreth could remember, the kitchen was less than immaculate — the remains of a half-eaten breakfast sat on the table. Toreth picked up a plate, realised he had no idea what to do with it, and put it down as subtly as he could.

"Do you have to return to Athens tomorrow?" Warrick asked as he tidied up.

"I doubt it. Could happen, but Internal Investigations took the case away."

"Ah." The conversation had a brittle edge. "Is that bad?"

"Depends on who you are. Not much fun if you work at Athens I&I. And technically, for I&I as a whole, it's a bad thing too. In reality, it's probably good. For me, anyway." There would be plenty of fallout to come, he was sure of that. However, at the moment Athens seemed a long way away. "Too early to tell, really. I'll let you know when it's all shaken down."

"I&I internal politics?"

"Int-Sec internal politics — bigger version of the same thing. How — " He couldn't help pausing, even though Warrick had said everything was back to normal. "How is the thing at SimTech?"

Warrick turned away to open the fridge door. "The official report isn't complete. However, Carnac indicated to me that we had satisfied the concerns expressed by his employers."

"That's fantastic!" Slightly more enthusiastic than the comment really warranted.

"Indeed it is. Barring the unforeseen problems that always arise, there's nothing between us and the start of the first production run. Fame and fortune beckon."

Toreth watched as Warrick rifled through the fridge. From the look of the ingredients stacking up on the countertop, omelette was the most likely suspect for the meal. Not his favourite.

Not, however, a problem. All Toreth had to do was activate his standard backup plan: distract Warrick, exhaust him, order something delivered.

"Have you got a copy of the shadow tape?" Toreth asked.

A soft thump as Warrick dropped a block of cheese on the work top. "Ah, yes, I think so."

"We can watch that later. In slow motion. You can point out all the really clever parts that I was too fucking turned on to notice the first time through. I must've missed plenty, with you in chains to concentrate on."

Warrick stood by the counter, ingredients ready, knife laying on the board. He didn't reply.

Toreth moved over, put his hands lightly on Warrick's waist, his fingers tingling at the contact. "Or we could watch it now."

"Or we could watch it now," Warrick repeated, his voice a little distant. Almost dreamy. Thinking about the shadow fuck, no doubt.

Toreth bent his head and pressed his face into Warrick's hair, inhaling deep and slow. After Warrick's long day it didn't have the freshly washed smell that always went straight to Toreth's cock, but it was still . . . inspirational. Watching the recording suddenly seemed like an unnecessary complication to the plan.

"Do you know something?" Toreth murmured into Warrick's ear.

Warrick sighed, melting back against him. "A great many things. Which one do you have in mind?"

"We've never fucked in here."

"Really?" Warrick lifted his head from Toreth's shoulder. "I can't believe that."

"We've done every other room in the flat, and I sucked you sat on the table once, but we finished that one in the living room. So, never in here. It's true."

"Mmm . . . no, not quite."

"What? When?" Toreth couldn't believe he'd forgotten.

"What you mean is, we've never fucked in here
before today
."

The comms unit — running highly illegal encryption code — chimed only once before Nikoletta answered it.

"Report." Nikoletta had no more idea of the name behind the man's voice than any of the other resisters who had heard it.

"It's finished." Nikoletta's own voice rang oddly in her ears, translated smoothly and instantaneously into the measured male tones of the leader of cell beta-one-forty-seven of the Hellenic resistance. "Alexandros was flawless — I've seen the transcript. Internal Investigations are here, the paras are being arrested."

"And the rest?"

"Some from the exposed cells will definitely be arrested too." The awful price of breaking Political Crimes' corrosive hold over the Attican resisters. "We couldn't warn everyone in time, unfortunately."

"Unfortunate indeed." No emotion. "Although on the larger scale, perhaps it is for the best. If everyone disappeared it would lead to too many questions on the part of the authorities."

Another consequence of the inevitable arrests struck her. "And you'll be able to persuade the remaining cell leaders that we have to pull back and regroup. They'll have to agree now, with all the turmoil."

He ignored the comment. "And you, my dear. Are you yourself safe?"

The endearment gave her a twinge of fear. Despite her precautions, could the outsider know her sex? And if so, what about her identity? "As safe as I can be. Alex doesn't know my name, Theo and Karteris are dead, and as far as anyone else is concerned I never knew anything about Grant or the blackmail. The New London para might've suspected, but he's gone now."

"Karteris's disposal went smoothly?"

"Exactly like we planned." She smiled, thinking of the deeply satisfying expression of shock on Karteris's face as the men closed around them in the quiet alley. So busy watching them, ready to make a fight of it that it had been easy for her to use the injector. "The hardest part was persuading him to come down to Piraeus for the evening. Although it wasn't easy getting him to the boat. We should've just shot him."

"Then we would have had to provide I&I with a guilty party for execution. Complications of that nature are always best avoided. There have been no questions about the death?"

"No. We waited out there for long enough for the drug to clear from his system, just like you said." Fading curses from the water as they towed the stolen boat away, leaving him floundering. She'd felt a twinge of guilt then — more than a twinge — and if she'd been alone she might have turned back. But she couldn't show weakness in front of the men there with her.

"Can you be connected to it?"

"The people who helped me were from a secure cell. They won't be pulled in."

"Then everything is well. An unfortunate incidence of mass corruption which I&I will be eager to have closed as soon as possible. All to the good for us. Did you know," the man continued conversationally, "that admins have the highest proportion of convicted resisters of any grade within Int-Sec? Still a tiny percentage, of course, but it's a wonder that Internal Investigations don't pay more attention to them."

Somehow, Nikoletta kept her own voice even. "Really? I wouldn't know. If there's nothing else, I think we should end. Even this secure system is a risk."

"Good luck. And goodbye, my dear."

She sat, staring at the comm, suddenly cold in the stifling air. An unmistakable threat, a warning to keep in line. A threat against which she was utterly powerless. All she could do was trust and hope.

Silence at the table, while all around them the café buzzed with conversation. One of their regular places — not too far from the edge of the Int-Sec complex, on the side nearest the university. During the summer, the café expanded out onto the pavement. The striped awning overhead provided relief from the hot sun, and the chequered tablecloth flapped gently in the breeze.

Even if it was a bust, they'd still had a nice lunch out of it.

Toreth forked through the remains of his pasta, dividing his attention between the plate and the man opposite him. Not surprisingly (since he hadn't said flat-out no), Warrick was taking his time thinking about the proposal. Toreth waited, braced for a refusal. Not that it really mattered. When the invitation had arrived, he'd nearly deleted it without a second thought. Only a whim had made him call Warrick and set up lunch to ask him.

"Do you really want to go?" Warrick enquired at length.

Toreth shrugged, noncommittal. "I thought it'd be different, that's all."

Warrick smiled slightly. "And the answer to the question?"

"Yes. I'd like to. It'll be fun."

Warrick closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head back. When he looked back at Toreth, his expression was serious. "Very well. But on the understanding that we'll leave if I don't enjoy it. Both of us will leave."

"Of course."

"And that you also understand that's probably what will happen."

"Sure. I know."

"I don't want you to be disappointed, that's all."

"I won't be." Then, as Warrick's eyebrow quirked, he added, "Of course I will be. But I won't go on about it."

"Perfectly acceptable. One other thing — I'm assuming that, the Shop being the Shop, there will be a certain amount of sexual activity going on."

Toreth smiled inwardly at the tone. Warrick's best sim fuck research voice. "Yeah, probably."

"So, if that proves to in fact be the case, the options are that neither of us will have any contact with anyone else, or that both of us can — if we decide we want to, of course. The point is that I have no intention of escorting you to an all-you-can-eat fuck buffet and standing on the sidelines, watching you fill your plate."

Toreth noticed a silence at the next table and glanced round, slowly and deliberately. The three young women coloured furiously, and looked away when he smiled.

Now it was his turn to think something over. Saying 'neither' would put a terrible crimp in Toreth's own evening. On the other hand, the idea of Warrick . . . even the idea of the idea of it banished the warmth of the café. 'Neither' was by far the safest. But on a third hand, Toreth would be there with him, to keep an eye on whatever went on. Odds were Warrick wouldn't want to anyway — he didn't like doing anything in public.

Suddenly he thought of a compromise. "Start off with neither. Then if either of us changes our mind in mid-party, let the other know and then it'll be either." Then Toreth could fuck whomever he liked, as long as Warrick didn't see. Better yet, if Warrick
did
catch him, it would still be inside the rules — Toreth could just claim he'd meant to tell him when it was over. Perfect.

Warrick regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment, and Toreth had the uncomfortable feeling that he'd been seen through. He held his ground, keeping the suspicion off his face, until Warrick nodded.

"Very well." He lifted his glass. "To an interesting and unusual Saturday evening."

"I thought I said don't get dressed until I arrived?" Not that Toreth really minded, because Warrick in black and white was his next favourite thing to Warrick naked. Fuckably irresistible, dressed or undressed.

The guilty party turned round from the bedroom mirror, where he'd been tying his bow tie.

"I'm sorry. I thought it would save some time, since we're running late. Didn't your invitation say formal?"

"Yes. But that's formal for the — never mind. For me. You have to wear these."

Warrick's eyebrows disappeared up under his fringe as Toreth opened his bag and handed over the contents. Black leather — although not a great deal of it — and a short length of chain.

Taking the things, Warrick laid them out on the bed. Leather wrist cuffs, locked together by the chain. A key for the chain, on a fine plaited leather string, long enough to wear round the neck. Leather collar. Leash. A thong that redefined skimpy. He contemplated the assortment for a while, and then shook his head firmly.

"Where did you get this?"

"Fran found it for me. She thinks it's all your size."

"Helpful woman."

To be honest, Toreth didn't rate his chances of persuading Warrick to do this part. He'd been antsy enough about the mere idea of a party at the Shop, and Toreth had been deliberately vague about the details. Deliberate bordering on deceptive, in fact. However, the idea of maybe having the power to make him do it, and of showing Warrick off, of marking him so clearly as
his
, compelled him to try.

"You'll look great," he said.

"Mm." Warrick picked up the thong, dangling it from his forefinger. "Is this compulsory?"

Not at all, unfortunately. "In a way. It's traditional for the anniversary parties — so Fran said." He smiled, hopefully disarmingly. "There'll be plenty of other people wearing the same kind of stuff."