The Administration Series (201 page)

He didn't bother asking her to move. Instead he went over to the window and looked out, forcing her to turn to follow him.

"There was no one here, so I thought I'd wait," she said.

"Always a pleasure to see you." He turned and sat on the windowsill and smiled at her. "Is this a social call?"

"That was an impressive performance this morning, Para-investigator."

It hadn't occurred to him before how much the way she used his title annoyed him. He could hear the quote marks round it, the contempt for a non-Service rank.

"You can call me Toreth, or you can fuck off. We've got the staff now, so we don't need the Service around here any more."

His deliberately aggressive tone didn't ruffle her in the least. "You might want to give that some thought. Carnac might feel he can ignore my concerns — the Service's concerns — but he has his place on the Council. You don't."

"The Service doesn't run the Administration, it doesn't run Int-Sec and it certainly doesn't run I&I."

She smiled, coldly. "No. But it has plenty of influence, especially right now. And it will have more in the future, when its traditional place in the Administration has been restored."

For a moment, he didn't understand her. "What? They're . . . Jesus! They're planning to undo the reform? Put the old Department of Security back together?"

"There is a feeling within the Service that the reunification of the military departments might be best for the Administration as a whole."

Which sounded like a yes. "It'll never happen. Service Command are tripping if they think the other Departments'll stand by and let the DoS take over again. And Int-Sec and Ext-Sec would fight them every inch of the way."

"Do you think so? I&I may be an exception, but you forget that the majority of staff at both Internal and External Security were in Department of Security divisions before the reforms. They'll be glad to get back where they belong — with the Service."

"Maybe ten, fifteen years ago, when everyone was still pissed off about being ripped out of there into new departments, but not now. It's too late. People are used to it. They like their independence too much to want the Service calling the shots again."

"I think those in charge of the divisions concerned will see that cooperation is in their best interests, as well the interests of Europe."

"People like me, you mean? And if you get my cooperation, you get I&I?"

She carried on as if he hadn't spoken. "Every division which cooperates makes the task easier. Don't doubt that the Service will reward loyalty — loyalty to the needs of the Administration."

Interesting redefinition of loyalty. Not that he had much, but if Bell thought he wanted to spend the rest of his life saluting people like her, then Service Command weren't the only ones on drugs. Still, he must be doing better than he'd thought if she was trying bribery instead of threats.

Something else occurred to him. "Does Carnac know about this?"

"Of course. He accepts the inevitable."

If Carnac
was
behind it, then I&I and the rest of Int-Sec were in deep trouble. But putting the military in charge of the Administration didn't feel like Carnac's style, not even to get at I&I. He had no real evidence either way so, with absolute confidence, he said, "You're lying."

He caught the flash of surprise and, yes, fear in her eyes. And then a classic, guilt-confirming response. "Why would I lie?"

"Because you think Carnac doesn't have a clue about it, and you don't want me to tell him." The odds that Carnac didn't know already were vanishing small, but he didn't see any reason to tell her that. "Because you know that when he does find out, he's going to be with the civilians in the new Administration, not with you lot."

The major lowered her voice, unnecessarily. "
If
that were true, and if you stick with Carnac, you'll go down with him, and anyone else in the new Administration who doesn't fall into line."

"Yeah?" He'd back Carnac against the Service any day. "All very interesting. But not very concrete, is it? You can tell whoever's interested that I'm not sticking my neck out to give them I&I on a plate on the basis of some vague promises about rewarding loyalty. Mind you, if they pull it off, I wouldn't say no to staying on. I think I'll take my chances sitting on the fence, if you understand me."

After a moment, she nodded. "Are you going to tell Carnac about this conversation?"

"Fuck, no. I've got no love for that bastard. He isn't Int-Sec or Service. And I'm not political — never have been."

She smiled. "A healthy attitude, Toreth."

He watched her go, thinking that she really ought to take her own advice about that. On balance, he thought he'd handled it about right. From her point of view, buying his neutrality was a victory of a sort and there was always the chance he might be open to further persuasion.

In the meantime, the conversation might provide some useful leverage for his own plans.

Carnac leaned back in his chair and frowned thoughtfully at his visitor, more for effect from than from genuine puzzlement. He'd wondered how long it would take Bell to make her move.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"I thought you might be interested. Actually, I assumed you already knew. But in case you didn't — " Toreth shrugged. "I didn't think the idea of the Service running the Administration would appeal to you any more than it does to me."

"And you would be right, in all three cases. I am aware of their plan, I am interested in it, and I do not support it."

Toreth cocked his head, considering. "Are they going to carry it through?"

The obvious confidence in his ability to answer that definitively was mildly flattering. "Doubtful. Your assessment of the attitude of the other Departments is accurate and, despite the major's presentation of the situation, the Service itself is divided over the question. My prediction of the most likely outcome is that they will procrastinate until the political climate makes success impossible."

"But they might make it stick?"

Was Toreth wondering which side to choose? "Lots of things are possible. I can only deal in probabilities."

"Fair enough. It all adds to the fun."

Toreth yawned, and stretched, making Carnac remember why he'd picked the man as his liaison on his first visit. The effort required to keep his body in that kind of condition was, in Carnac's opinion, excessive and narcissistic in the extreme, but the results were exceptionally pleasing for onlookers.

The healing scar on his right eyebrow was an interesting addition to the look. A romantic might call it piratical. A realist such as Carnac would say thuggish — an external marker of the innate violence of Toreth's life which had otherwise left him surprisingly untouched. A useful reminder to the world at large of his true nature.

Toreth stretched further, arching his back up out of the chair, then stopped abruptly and put his hand to his side, wincing.

"Are you all right?" Carnac asked.

"Fine." A predictable flicker of irritation at having displayed weakness. "Left-over reminder of your friends' visit to I&I, that's all. Has anyone ever cracked any of your ribs?"

"Fortunately, no."

"You surprise me." The tone implied that Toreth himself was frequently tempted by the idea. "But in that case you won't know that they hurt like fucking hell."

"My sympathies."

"Thanks." Toreth looked at his watch. "God, I'm starving."

"I also. Fortunately, the restaurant at my hotel is excellent, even under the current circumstances."

"Really? Is that an invitation?"

Carnac smiled. "If you like. I didn't think that you would be amenable to the suggestion, after the opinions you expressed so firmly when we first met."

"I was in a bad mood."

"And I don't suppose I can blame you for that. Now your temper has been restored by the idea of I&I back in business once more?"

Toreth shrugged. "I can bear to eat with you in the same room, if that counts."

Actually Carnac doubted that, but Toreth was clearly trying hard to make it sound true. The one hundred and eighty degree shift of attitude caught his interest. Transparent as it was, it might be entertaining to go along with for a while. It would probably be the easiest method of determining the motive behind it.

"Then I would be delighted to extend the invitation," Carnac said.

"You'll have to give me the address."

"No need." And no need to compound any risks by letting Toreth know in advance where the meal would be. "I can take you back in the car when we finish this evening."

"Yeah, okay." Toreth stood up. "Why not?"

A number of reasons sprang to mind at once. However, he doubted that even Toreth was stupid enough to try to simply kill him. A kitchen-cooked dinner with wine in sealed bottles was harmless enough.

Carnac had never believed in heaven. Not until now.

Heaven was being fucked. Heaven was being fucked by Toreth, right now, here, every second of it drawn out into what felt like an hour, diamond sharp, glittering and exquisite. Only his vision was blurred, turning everything in the hotel room into restless shadows. But who needed sight, anyway? Better to keep his eyes shut, and feel.

Oh yes. Feel.

Everything was perfect, except that at the back of his mind, persistently annoying, was a voice. It seemed to have a lot of comments about his current situation, none of which he wanted to hear. However, he couldn't shut it away because it was inside him.

Inside him.

Toreth was inside him. Inside him, above him, everywhere around him. He normally found fucking face-to-face uncomfortable. Physically . . .

[Well, we're not as young as we used to be.]

. . . and emotionally. Unpleasantly open and vulnerable, to be on your back, with someone lying between your legs — he'd always thought that women must hate it. It was embarrassing.

Not now, though. Not with Toreth.

Toreth moving slowly inside him, so slowly, never stopping, not a millimetre of movement wasted. Arms around him — he liked to be held, although he'd never given much thought to it before. Lips against his throat, on his mouth, whispering in his ear.

You could fall in love with someone who could make you feel this good.

[You're pathetic. Pull yourself together.]

He had a vague, hazy memory that Toreth had hurt him. Once. A long time ago.

This didn't hurt. This was ecstasy — endless, warm waves of bliss washing over him. He'd never felt anything like it before. Fuck of his life.

Never let it stop.

This is heaven.

[This is
drugs
. He drugged us. He put something in the wine, somehow.]

"Carnac?"

Voice near his ear. Beautiful voice.

"Yes?"

"Why did you come to I&I?"

[Oh, come on. He's asking us questions. Does that sound like a man having the fuck of
his
life? Don't tell him anything.]

Some sense in that, perhaps. He tried his best. "Toreth, just . . . keep doing that. Don't . . . "

"Carnac, I know there was a reason behind it." Lips brushed his ear, right against it now. Every word fired nerves he'd never felt before. "You didn't pick us at random for special attention, out of all of the Divisions at Int-Sec. You don't do anything without a purpose. So why us?"

Not trusting himself to speak, he shook his head.

[At last. Now keep your mouth shut and we'll be all right.]

Toreth stopped moving inside him, and he moaned.

"No, please. I can't." He had to explain, because he desperately wanted Toreth to keep going. He just desperately wanted Toreth. Had he ever wanted anything more? "Voice. Won't let me."

[Oh, for pity's sake. Tell him everything, why don't you? No — forget I said that.]

"Like that, is it?" Low laugh, thrilling him. "Well, don't worry. It won't keep talking for long. I'm not relying on my overrated performance alone. But let's see what I can do to shut it up."

Toreth's weight shifted as he took it all on one arm. Carnac knew what would happen next and he tightened his arms round Toreth, trying to prepare himself.

Hand on his hip. Hand brushing over his stomach. Hand . . .

Too much. The feeling was too much. He should have come the moment Toreth touched his cock, but miraculously he hadn't.

[If you don't stop him, I won't be held responsible for the consequences.]

Hand. He moved his own hand. It was the most difficult thing he had ever done in his entire life.

Closing it round Toreth's wrist. He couldn't bear to try seriously to stop him doing the incredible thing he was doing, but it was a gesture to go with the words.

"Stop. Please."

"You don't mean that. I know you like it."

Words like warm honey and treacle, flowing down his spine. And true. So very, very true. Where had he heard them before?

[You said it to him. When you were trying to get him to trust you. When you were trying to break him. For God's sake, get your brain out of your prick and
think
.]

Somehow, his hand was no longer where he'd ordered it to be. After a moment he found it again, wrapped around the bed post, holding on as he thrust up into Toreth's hand.

It was too good to last and he found himself wishing it would end, wanting it to finish. It was going to be so . . . oh, yes, if it felt like this now, what would it be like when he came? But it wasn't enough — fingers too loose around him. He needed more.

"Toreth, please —"

"Tell me." Tongue in his ear, nearly making him scream. "If you want me to finish it, you'll have to tell me what I want to know."

[Listen to him. He's interrogating you. Don't you remember how much we hated watching him work on that poor bastard? Don't you remember why we're doing this?]

He remembered. He really did remember, although he had to fight to hang onto the fact that the same man who'd done that was the man now coaxing such exquisite sensations from his body. He arched his back, whimpering helplessly as Toreth's mouth abandoned his ear to brush across his nipples.