The Devil's Eye (27 page)

I rewrote the report I'd stored online, eliminating everything that implicated Wexler and his stooges and also anything that I thought would tend to spread panic. That latter part wasn't easy. But I'd used the term
Thunderbolt
to refer to the gamma-ray burst, and I got rid of that. I also tried to make the account a little less breathless. When I'd finished I directed the AI to deliver it to Peifer at one minute past midnight. Then to follow up and give it to the rest of the world three hours later. As I had earlier, I took precautions to ensure it couldn't be blocked. Then, for the first time in a while, I collapsed and slept through the afternoon. That evening we ate in the hotel dining room, which was filled with well-dressed patrons. They had candlelight and soft music, and it felt good to be together again. "I thought I'd lost you," I told him after the host had seated us by a corner window. We were on the ground floor. Outside, shoppers moved beneath glowing lamps, their arms filled with packages. We were approaching a local holiday in which it was customary to give gifts. There was a theater across the street, doing a musical,
Late Night Out
, which had been imported from Khaja Luan. I'd seen it two years before, enjoyed it thoroughly, and still remembered the show-stopper, "Go for Broke," at the end of the first act. A family trailing a boy and girl passed outside. The parents carried bags of packages, while the kids giggled and ran along beside them. The boy stopped and looked through the window. At us. Our eyes connected, and he waved. I waved back. He'd be about ten when the gamma rays came. The Thunderbolt. "I feel guilty sitting here," I said. "I'm anxious to hand it over to Rob. Get it over with." "I know." "We're talking twelve hundred light-years, Alex. I didn't think novas could do any damage this far away."

We both had a soup appetizer. He tried his, but didn't react to it. "It's a
hyper
nova." "The worst kind." "Yes." Alex cupped his chin in his hands and closed his eyes. "Callistra is-
was
-a hypergiant. It's been on the verge of collapse for thousands of years. The people here knew that.
Everybody
knew it. There was a time, a couple of thousand years ago, when they kept instruments out there. Monitors. But the instruments had to be maintained, nothing ever happened, and eventually people got used to it. And forgot about it. "I found some reports that the current administration was going to restart the program. But they had other priorities. So it never happened." "Other priorities." "Yes. No wonder Vicki did the mind wipe. She knew, and she couldn't warn anybody. She did it because it looked like the only chance she had to get a warning back to Salud Afar. She sacrificed herself." "Gutsy woman. Alex, I hate seeing Wexler walk away from this." He looked ambivalent. "You know, he's not entirely wrong about the worldwide reaction. I'd just as soon not be here when the news gets out." "I hate this, Alex." "Me, too, babe."

Peifer found us first. We'd just gotten back to our suite.
"Chase?"
His hologram barged into the room.
"You got Alex back?"

"Yes, he's here."
"Thanks."
His voice rasped.
"I really appreciate your letting me know."
"I was going to call."

I glanced over at Alex, who was out of Peifer's field of vision. Reading a book about the missing civilization that Ivan had described. He shook his head no. I don't want to talk to him. "I got lucky," I said.

"Umm- "

"He's not here."

"Come on, Chase, you just said he was there."
"I was speaking metaphorically. I meant here as in
out
.
Free.
"
"Who was holding him? Was it Wexler?"

"Rob, I'm not able to talk about it now, okay? You'll have the entire story later tonight."
"Me and who else?"
He looked skeptical. "You'll have a three-hour head start."

"When what?"

"Midnight."

"First I need a favor."

"I want you to keep Wexler's name out of it."
"So he
is
involved."
"A favor to me, Rob."

"Rob, this story is bigger than Wexler. Believe me."

"I made a deal to get Alex back."

"Please, Rob."

"Only when you get to know me."

"Go ahead."

Minutes later someone knocked on the door. When we didn't immediately respond, a male voice announced he was CSS. "Here we go again," said Alex. "Please open up." More knocking. There wasn't really anywhere to go, so I complied. There were three of them, two men and a woman. The woman was
not
Krestoff. "Chase Kolpath?" The question came from the older of the men. "Yes." "The Administrator would like to speak with you." He glanced over at Alex. "And with Mr. Benedict." "Don't you guys ever give up?" I said. He frowned. Looked puzzled, put his official look back on. "Please come along." He stepped aside to make room. "Before you do this, the original transmission, the one implicating Wexler, is scheduled to go out unless I stop it." "I don't know anything about that, Ms. Kolpath," the agent said. "But I would appreciate it if you and Mr. Benedict would come with us." I got a jacket out of the closet. A look of utter resignation crossed Alex's face. He got up and grumbled something indiscernible. We walked out into the corridor, they closed in around us, and we went up to the roof, where another white skimmer waited, identical to the one that Krestoff had used to haul us around. Moments later we lifted off. I was relieved to see that we turned in the direction of the Seawalk and not toward the gray building on the edge of the city. Nobody said much. One of the agents asked whether I was comfortable. And the pilot spoke softly to his control. We were approaching Number 17 Parkway, the executive mansion. "It looks as if it really
is
the Administrator," said Alex. "I guess." I was not comfortable. "Do we know whether he's involved?" "I've no idea how high it went." The building and the grounds were enclosed by an iron fence. We descended onto a pad off the east wing. The agents opened up, and there was a brief exchange with security people. When they were satisfied, we were escorted across a wide lawn and into the mansion. The building itself was of recent vintage, relatively small and unobtrusive, standing among the architectural giants erected by the Cleevs. "It sends the right message," Alex commented. Once inside, we passed through an elaborate security arrangement and were given IDs. Then we were taken to a waiting room. "He'll want us to cancel," I said, when we were alone. "Of course. But I'd be surprised if we see him personally. He'll have somebody else lean on us. They've probably disposed of Wexler." The room was filled with bookcases, but the volumes were all in sets and showed no sign of use. There were portraits of stern men and women who appeared to be looking off at a horizon, and a picture of a waterfall, and another of a structure with columns and porticoes set against the sea. Alex was looking through the books when an aide came in and asked us to follow her. She led the way down a corridor lined with more pictures of still more severe people. I wondered whether anyone in power ever smiled for a portrait? A large office occupied the space at the end of the

passageway. Inside, a harried-looking male staff member sat at a desk next to a closed door. "Mr. Benedict and Ms. Kolpath," our escort said. The staff member flung a smile in our direction and spoke into a link. "They're here." He received a reply, nodded, and got up. "This way, please." He took us down another corridor. Then upstairs. And finally we confronted a large, paneled door. He opened it cautiously, looked inside, announced our presence, and stepped out of the way. It was like walking onto a stage. The overhead was vaulted, and tinted windows filtered the light. A large carved desk, with flags behind it, anchored the place. There were maybe a dozen chairs scattered around. A long sofa was set against one wall. A fireplace crackled happily. Somehow, they'd arranged things so that it
felt
like a place where history was routinely made. Behind the desk, rising as we entered, was Tau Kilgore. The Administrator. Himself. He was engaged in an earnest conversation with a heavyset guy who looked angry, and a middle-aged chestnut-haired woman who was carefully maintaining a neutral expression. "Can't be done," Kilgore was saying as he got to his feet. The woman spotted us and raised a hand for us to stay back. "Find a way," continued Kilgore. "I don't care how you do it. But find a way." He turned in our direction and signaled us to take seats. "When we first heard of this," he said, "first heard about Greene, we immediately sent out a mission. Which confirmed the story. The thing, the ray burst, whatever, is a little more than three years away, and we are directly in the crosshairs. And somehow nobody ever thought it would be a good idea to get the word up here." He looked like a guy carrying the world on his shoulders. "It was a rogue operation, sir," said the male. "They kept it to themselves." "How in hell could they possibly do that, Grom?" "We're looking into it, sir." "I would goddam well hope so. I want everybody who was involved. Then we are going to hang their sorry asses." "Yes, sir. I'll get back to you as soon as we have the details." He turned toward us, still apparently seething. I wasn't sure, though. It could have been an act, carried on for our benefit. We did a round of introductions. The woman was Dr. Circe Belhower. Her eyes were intense. Not a warm woman, I suspected, under the best of circumstances. She didn't look any happier than the Administrator. She was tall and prim and humorless. The teacher for whose classes nobody ever signed up. "Dr. Belhower," he said, "is a special consultant. She's going to try to help us deal with this"-he struggled for a word-"catastrophe." Kilgore addressed himself to Alex. "I understand you've been held a virtual prisoner, Mr. Benedict." "Yes, Mr. Administrator. Although 'virtual' is not the way I'd describe it." "How long?" "Several days." "Where?" "They called it a custody chamber. It was on an island somewhere." "How were you treated?" "Fine, sir. Other than being locked in. And a pistol held to my head." "Damn them," he said. "Well, I'm glad to hear you're okay, anyhow." He seemed barely able to contain himself. "We've just learned what's been going on. They're coming out of the woodwork now," he said. "Trying to save their asses by turning in their collaborators. I'll be honest with you, Alex-Is it okay if I call you that?" "Yes, sir." "I'll be honest with you, Alex-" He paused again, had second thoughts and waved away whatever he was going to say. "When you found out about this, why didn't you come directly to
me
?" Tau Kilgore
looked
like a chief executive. He was tall and deliberate, with silver hair and gray eyes that were at once intelligent and compassionate. He was the kind of guy who inspires confidence. The word about him on the nets, though, wasn't flattering. He was described as a man who consulted only those who agreed with him, who was inflexible, who tended to confuse disagreement with disloyalty. Looking

at him, I had a hard time believing it. "We didn't really get a chance to, Mr. Administrator. As soon as we got close, they scooped us up." "I see." "I should add," he said, "that it was originally Vicki Greene who figured it out. And then sacrificed her life to give us reason to look into it." "Yes. I know about her. We owe her a considerable debt. Do you mind telling me how long you've known about all this?" "We weren't certain until a few days ago." He digested that and leaned forward. "And
you
are about to give the story to the media. Is that correct? "Yes, Mr. Administrator. We are." "Have you considered the consequences of such an act?" The guy was intimidating, but Alex went toe to toe with him. "By consequences I assume you mean the reaction of the voters." "Of everyone on the planet, Mr. Benedict. By releasing this information, you will ensure that we will spend the next three years living in a state of chaos." "That's more or less the reasoning the conspirators used to justify sitting on this for the last several months." "You mean Wexler." "You know about him?" "Of course I know, goddammit." The color drained from his face. "Please answer the question, Alex. Don't confuse me with Wexler." "Yes," said Alex. "We have considered the consequences. I think-" "I don't give a good goddam
what
you think. You're about to bring the walls down. Do you realize that? How am I supposed to deal with this if you tell the general public that there was a rogue operation in their government? Don't think they won't blame me. And I know exactly what's going through your mind. It's true that I deserve a substantial chunk of the blame. But it'll create a political firestorm. We don't have time for that. These people have to have a government they can believe in. And they have to have it now." "Maybe," said Alex, "you should have been more careful about the people you put in power." "I'll concede the point. But that's in the past now. It's irrelevant. You're about to impose a death sentence on two billion people. And you're going to tell them, either directly or by implication, that I was hiding the truth from them. And that I am therefore responsible." Alex's own temper began to rise. "I think there's some truth to that admission." "Look, I made the mistake of trusting the wrong people. God knows I regret that." "They were building shelters, Mr. Administrator. Making up bogus reports of Mute encroachments. How could you
not
have known?" Circe broke in. "Wexler and his friends were very good at keeping the truth quiet." "They knew," said Kilgore, "what would happen to commodity prices, to
everything
, if the word about Callistra got out. So they told nobody." "And what did you think the shelters were for?" "Goddammit, the reports about the Mutes took me in, too. They lied to me the way they lied to everyone else. Because they knew I wouldn't tolerate what they were doing." I'd never seen Alex angrier. His voice shook: "Where's Wexler now?" "We're looking for him." "And how'd you finally find out what's going on?" Kilgore showed us a photo. It was Bong. "Came forward yesterday," he said. "We'd always heard rumors that the reports of Mute incursions had been drummed up. And the experts were divided over the rift-in-space story. I should have looked into it. I can't believe now that I let it all go on." "You'll be lucky if you're not forced to step down." "If it comes to that, I won't hesitate, Alex. Meantime, I intend to do what I can for the people of this world."