The Administration Series (213 page)

Doral nodded.

"Not fucking good enough. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He coughed again, and wiped his face on his sleeve, smearing blood and snot. "Carnac's office. Home. I . . . understand."

Toreth stepped back, and the other two paras shoved Doral towards the door. He stumbled, caught himself against the wall, and then started up the corridor with more speed than Toreth would've credited.

"Chev, make sure he gets as far as the lifts. Someone will pick him up at the other end if he passes out on the way."

He waited until he heard Chevril's footsteps returning, then said to the others, "Wait for me outside — I won't be a minute."

Chevril passed the others on the way in, turned to follow them back out, then stopped when he saw Toreth still inside.

"Chev, can I have a word? Shut the door."

"Okay. What?"

"Come over here."

Chevril stopped a few feet away and waited. "What?" he asked again.

"When did you tell him?"

"When did I tell who what?" Chevril glanced towards the door.

"Yes, they're still outside. I haven't told them yet."

"Told them what?" He pulled himself up to his full, unimpressive height. "If you're suggesting
I
said anything to Carnac, then — "

"It's not a suggestion — I know you did. Give it up, before you really piss me off. And you don't want to do that because I'm having a fucking bad day as it is."

Chevril held onto the innocent indignation for a few more seconds. Then the facade crumbled and he sat down heavily on a desk.

"Okay." He looked down at his feet, then up again, trying for defiance. "Yes, I told him."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to die. Is that such a bloody surprise? It's all right for you — you're well out of it either way. Your corporate sweetheart isn't going to let Carnac line
you
up against a wall and have the Service take pot shots. Your stupid bloody plan was never going to do the trick for the rest of us."

"Then why the hell didn't you say so?" Toreth found his anger unexpectedly subsiding to exasperation. It was so bloody like Chev. "You thought of it in the first place!"

"Yes, well, that's how I knew it wouldn't work. Doral came and saw me — it must've been after he'd talked to Carnac. He didn't say anything about that, of course. I told him to fuck off, but then I thought about what he said, and then I went to see Carnac. He — "

"Let me guess. Carnac offered you protection and a job afterwards if you'd fuck the rest of us over for him. Because Doral is too stupid to find his arse with both hands and a map, whereas you're smart enough that there was a chance you could keep it going. But still just about too stupid to see that Carnac's going to kill you along with everyone else, because he isn't going to want to leave any live fucking witnesses. And if you think that doesn't include me, you're even thicker than Doral."

Chevril shrugged, embarrassment laid over fear. "Okay, maybe I was stupid to believe him, but it sounded a hell of a lot better than everyone going down."

"What did you tell him?"

"As little as I could, not that it makes any difference — but I didn't realise then that he'd got it all from Doral anyway. I didn't give him names. And I didn't tell him about you, er . . . about how you found out in the first place."

No, Chevril wouldn't have. "What did he promise? You get out and everyone else dies?"

"No!" Now Chevril looked genuinely indignant. "He promised that he'd let the seniors go. That includes you, in case you hadn't noticed. It was the best offer around."

Not a bad deal, from a lousy bargaining position, which was only more evidence that Carnac had no intention of sticking to it. "You're a moron."

"Yeah. I suppose that's about it." Chevril squared his shoulders, probably thinking about the sound of boots going in. "Do I get the same as Doral, then? A nice thorough going over and sent back to Carnac?"

"Tempting. But then I'd have to explain to Elena that I ruined your good looks, and she'd probably serve me my balls on a plate."

"Is there another option?" Cautious optimism.

"Yes. Doral's a 'before' picture for plastic surgery. You aren't . . . yet. So Carnac thinks Doral's blown and you're still useful. Now you stop fucking around, come back onto our side, and then you pass back to Carnac, wherever he's got to, exactly what I tell you to pass back. And you make it sound very, very good."

Chevril frowned, distrustful. "What's to stop me spilling all this to Carnac as well?"

"I'd say your sense of honour and camaraderie, but actually Bev is going to wire you up and put a feed through to me and him when you're out of sight. If we hear anything we don't like, or the connection cuts out, or if it sounds like Carnac doesn't buy it, I'll kill you. No fucking about, no second chance — you've used that up already."

Chevril stared at him, then nodded. "Okay. I believe you."

"Good. Because I'd hate to have to prove that I meant it."

He laughed, shakily. "I'm not so sure I believe that."

From the sound of it, Toreth had done too good a job with his demonstration with Doral. He went over to sit beside Chevril and put his arm round his shoulders. Chevril flinched slightly, then held himself steady, his hands gripping the edge of the desk.

"Chev, I promise you, I don't want to do it. Know why?"

Chevril looked up at him for a moment, then shook his head. "Don't you ever bloody give up? Absolutely no fucking way. No. Never. Not in a million bloody years. Pigs will give formation flying displays first. Clear?"

He sounded annoyed enough, but Toreth felt him relax a little. Good. That was exactly how Toreth wanted him — sufficiently focused on the consequences to do what he was told, but not so scared he'd fuck it up or make Carnac suspect him.

He squeezed Chevril's shoulder, then let him go. "Better behave yourself, then."

Back in the toilets on his floor, he searched the cubicles. Nothing, and nothing, until he finally found the scrap of paper. He looked at the message, almost not daring to open it. Finally, he unfolded it. Yes, he was coming. Yes to the time. Yes to the place. Yes, thank you God. Now, it all depended on timing and luck.

He estimated it would take five or six minutes, if he ran it. Then however long it took with Warrick, then another five or six minutes back. If he was more than five minutes late with the next call-in, someone would come looking for him on the strength of his tag signal and find Bevan. More complications, more dangers.

He'd set the meeting time as late as he dared, to make as sure as possible that it would happen. He filled in the remaining time by going round the seniors, taking Chevril with him. He warned everyone that Carnac had heard about the plan from Doral, and told them to make sure everyone kept quiet if any Service people started nosing around. He didn't have much hope that would help; there was too much information slopping around, and it would inevitably spill. Some people would say the wrong things at some point, but with luck that could be put down to confusion.

Luck. The idea that success depended on luck made him shudder. It was only luck that had kept him in the game so far. Without Payne's forgotten comm, he and Sara would probably be down in the cells right now, waiting for the inspection. Would any of the others have taken the risk of putting the plan into action without him? Bevan, maybe, except that Bevan wasn't a para or an interrogator — he might well have decided a pension was the better part of valour and sat it out.

Everything still depended on him, and that wasn't his favourite feeling.

He contacted Carnac's admin a few minutes early, giving himself as much leeway for the next contact as he could. Then he called into Bevan's office, and Bevan changed the bracelets and told him which door to use.

"I'll be as quick as I can," Toreth said.

Bevan shook his head gloomily. "Just fucking come back. That's all I care about."

He forced himself to walk away from the building until he was confident he was out of easy visible range. Then he ran, wishing he'd managed to put more time in at the gym. When he arrived at the cafe, out of breath, Warrick was already waiting at a corner table. He'd ordered a coffee and a cake for himself, but nothing for Toreth. Not a good sign.

"What is it?" Warrick asked as Toreth sat opposite him.

He breathed deeply, trying to stop panting. "Warrick, I'm in trouble." Truth, to start with anyway. "Real, nasty, dead-very-soon, serious fucking trouble."

"Your plans for I&I?"

"Yes."

Warrick stood up. "I already told you that —"

"Don't fucking —" He stopped, realising that he was raising his voice. Warrick didn't work for him, and shouting wouldn't help. "Don't interrupt, please. Once through, that's all I ask."

"Very well." He sat down again, checked his watch. "I have to get back for a meeting. You have thirty minutes."

If only. He needed to do it in half that to be absolutely safe, but that wasn't going to happen.

"That's fine. First, there's something . . . okay." He looked around the room — people eating and drinking, but no one listening, which he'd known already. There was no use delaying it. He took another deep breath, trying to produce the right words without actually thinking them.

"There's something I have to tell you. Don't say anything until I'm done. It's about Kate. She works for Int-Sec — she's a deep cover agent. And . . . " And he was distracted by studying Warrick's face, trying to work out what he was thinking.

Warrick met his eyes and said, "I know."

He could have spent a week thinking up reactions, and that one would never even have made it onto the bottom of the list of 'least likely'. "You
know
?"

"Well, that's not strictly true. I strongly suspected."

"How long for?"

"Years. Let me think . . . she left her office unlocked once. I was about seventeen and excessively curious, so I had a hunt around in her computer."

"She had classified files on it?"

"Not exactly. But there were other files, enough to make me suspect things weren't as they seemed."

"What?"

Warrick's expression closed. "It doesn't matter, does it? The more pressing question is why you are telling me. Now."

"Carnac knows — not from me. I had no idea myself until he told me. He got it from the Int-Sec systems somehow — he had her security file. I don't think he knows you have a clue about it, because he seemed to get a real kick out of the idea of your finding out. But the real point is that he's threatening to blow her cover to his new friends if I don't stay in line."

Warrick raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised he would consider that to be a useful inducement."

He didn't know whether to be annoyed that Warrick knew him so well, or relieved that he didn't seem upset. "That's the other part — the part where he m-f's her into implicating me as an Int-Sec agent running an extremely close surveillance on you and SimTech."

There was a brief silence, then Warrick said, "So you thought you'd tell me first?"

Toreth shrugged, trying to keep his voice equally casual. "I've run a few blackmail cases. It only works if people are too frightened of the consequences of owning up to whatever it was to just come clean. Half of the time it would've been better if they'd done it straight away."

"And the other half?"

"Is a total fucking disaster, which is why it works." Which set would this fall into?

"What exactly does Carnac want?"

No mention as to whether he believed him or not. "We're reforming I&I." He waited for Warrick to look properly sceptical, then carried on. "No more high-level interrogations, no more 'torture' at all, in fact — more than enough to satisfy the new Administration and make them leave us alone. Carnac found out about it. He wants me to cancel it, undo everything by nine o'clock tomorrow morning, and let them shut I&I down. His way."

He didn't bother to add the rest of the consequences, because Warrick knew them well enough. It would be interesting to see if Warrick thought his and Kate's lives were an acceptable price to pay to get rid of I&I — only two more on top of the hundreds he'd been happy to see die. Interesting, that was, unless the answer was yes.

"Will you cancel the plan?"

He had the lie prepared, ready for use if the conversation had made it this far. "Yes," he said, without hesitation, and with such conviction that he half believed it himself. "If that's the only way."

If Warrick called his bluff, he was fucked.

Warrick looked at him for a long moment, assessing, and then nodded. "Thank you. However, as I'm sure you're aware, that wouldn't be enough, would it?"

"Probably not. There's nothing to stop Carnac doing it anyway. Odds are he will, since I know about his plan and he won't want me running around knowing all that and hating his fucking guts. And he wants — " And he wants you.

Warrick looked at him enquiringly, and Toreth shook his head. They didn't have time to get into all that right now; Warrick would only think he was being paranoid.

Besides, judging by Warrick's expression, he'd guessed the end of the sentence anyway. However, all Warrick said was, "So, you're asking me to remove his leverage by getting Kate out of danger and out of his reach?"

"If it was that easy I'd have done it myself. He's already had her arrested."

"Ah." Warrick cocked his head, thinking the problem over with what appeared to be utter calm. "If that's true, then I don't see what I can do except appeal to Carnac's better nature."

God, he hoped that was sarcasm. "Then I'm dead, and so is she."

"Thank you." The calm cracked a little. "I'm perfectly well aware of that."

He thought for a minute or so longer, while Toreth watched him. There had to be something Warrick could do. Because if there wasn't — he
was
dead. He hadn't thought of it so explicitly before, but Carnac would never let him run — he was outside the building now, but the alarm would be raised before long if he didn't return. He wouldn't get far. Carnac would have thought about the possibility and the arrest warrant would be ready to go; the fact that he'd tried to run would only make him look more guilty. Maybe he'd already thought about Toreth turning to Warrick. Maybe it was what Carnac wanted, although he couldn't imagine why.