Paradigm (14 page)

He wondered if it would be painful. Would he just fade away, or end up writhing on the floor? And what about the other guests—were they going to watch? Was that why Tiffany had decided to come to the party after all?

“Sam?”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled. “It smells incredible.”

Carolyn Bast smiled briefly before returning her attention to the matter at hand.

“I think the point that Dustin is trying to make, Hector, is that there is no reason why businesses can’t be run on a larger scale. Trading in a single city is fine, as far as it goes, but the future lies in expansion and growth.”

“So what are you suggesting? That I send some of my guys over to stake a claim and just start drilling? Bakersfield has a militia, you know. My team’ll be dead before they’ve gone two feet.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Look,” said Dustin, clearly fed up with all the pussy-footing around. “Here’s the deal. You start drilling. They send out their militia. Carolyn does what she does. No more militia. Chaos in Bakersfield.”

Hector looked confused. “But…I don’t understand…”

Sam sighed and wondered how it was that really stupid people could end up being so rich and powerful.

“Why don’t you tell him, Sam?”

“What?”

“You understand what we’re doing, don’t you?” Carolyn Bast smiled as if she were showing off her favorite nephew. Sam tried to suppress a shudder.

“I’m…I don’t…it’s none of my business,” he stammered.

“Nonsense. Tell Mr. Stone why chaos in Bakersfield would be a good thing.”

“Because…because you want to take it,” he said. “It isn’t about one of the oil fields, it’s about all of them. I’d guess that you want to combine the city states…consolidate your power and move on from there.”

“I knew you were smart the moment I saw you,” purred Carolyn, running her fingers through his hair as if he were five.

Sam flinched and pulled away—her hand looked slender and elegant from afar, but it felt like the talon of a bird of prey as it raked across his skull.

“Tell me,” she continued, ignoring his response, “Can you hear the plex?”

Sam stared at her.

“Because Setzen, over there, could swear that you heard it. From below, when you first came in.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.”

Sam considered continuing to feign ignorance, but other than Drake, he’d never met anyone who even suspected that he might be different. Still, common sense told him it would be wise to be careful.

“You’re saying that he thinks I can hear…what? Mutha? Just because of a bit of vertigo?”

Carolyn Bast smiled. “Vertigo. Very good. Quick thinking. But, no. Setzen’s seen plenty of cases of vertigo in his time.”

“But—”

“Dear boy,” she whispered, leaning in. “Don’t play me for a fool. I’ve met quite a few people who can hear the voices.”

Sam’s heart leapt. Maybe he wasn’t crazy after all. He wanted to grill her, to ask her every question that had occurred to him, to find out, once and for all, exactly what was going on in his head. But great as his curiosity was, his sense of self-preservation was greater. He hadn’t spent all those years alone in the Wilds without learning to keep his own counsel. So instead of saying anything, he just fixed her with his best surly, uncooperative stare.

Bast just smiled benignly.

“Of course, most of them came out of some hush-hush research lab in San Francisco. Funded by Hermes Industries, they said. Is that where you came from too?”

“I don’t know,” lied Sam. “I grew up in the Wilds. What happened to the others?”

“Oh, they’re all dead now.”

“Did you—?”

“Oh, heavens, no. Hermes doesn’t need any help from me.”

“So what happened to them?”

“Stroke, coma, death. Generally in that order. A few lasted longer, but not much. I’ve never heard of one as old as you.”

Sam stared at her for a moment, then returned his attentions to his dinner. His mind was racing—so there were others! He wasn’t the only one! And it
was
the plex, not some awful mental disease. But why had the others died? Maybe they hadn’t…why should he trust anything Carolyn Bast said? And if some had died, maybe some hadn’t. Maybe somewhere there were people just like him and maybe, just maybe, he could find them.

He was still lost in thought when he felt Carolyn Bast’s talon in his hair again. Her mouth was right by his ear.

“I wouldn’t get excited, if I were you,” she hissed. “You’re not going anywhere.”

At that moment there was a crash at the other end of the table as a glass shattered beneath Hector’s gesticulating hands. Apparently the Bakersfield discussion had become heated.

“Ah!” said Carolyn quietly. “Now we know where we are.”

She nodded to the waiters who removed the meat course plates.

“Boys…boys!” she said cheerily. “This is a dinner party, not a boxing ring. Hobbs, you can bring the fish course now. Three specials.”

Hobbs nodded once and slithered away. Sam watched him go, wondering what the “specials” were and guessing that the answer was “nothing good.”

“You can shove your fish course!” blustered Hector. “I didn’t come here to be insulted by some—”

“Hector, try to stay calm. No one is saying that you
have
to go and drill outside Bakersfield.”

“Well, it sounded that way to me. It sounded like you want my guys to go and be some kind of sacrificial lambs so you and Mr. Moneybags here can have an excuse to take the whole city. Well, it ain’t gonna happen! You can just find yourselves another patsy!”

“I’m sure Dustin meant no such thing,” said Carolyn. “Dustin, you weren’t suggesting putting poor Hector or his men in any danger were you?”

“No, of course not!” said Dustin, as if he couldn’t believe that anyone should think such a thing. “Sorry if I gave that impression, Hector. I can get a bit carried away when it comes to business.”

Hector looked at them both, grunted, and took a gulp of wine.

“Ah, here’s the fish!” said Carolyn, as the waiters returned with another set of plates.

Tiffany practically squealed with delight as the plate of delicate white fish, covered in a translucent, creamy sauce, garnished with peeled green grapes was placed in front of her. Sam’s plate was slightly different. In addition to the fish, sauce and grapes, there appeared to be some kind of herb, finely chopped and sprinkled over the top. He glanced around the table—Ida and Hector had the herb garnish too.

“It’s just tarragon,” explained Carolyn. “It’s supposed to be served that way, but some people don’t care for the flavor. If you don’t like it, we can get you another, but you really ought to try it first.”

She smiled in what she clearly thought was an encouraging way, but it made Sam’s blood run cold.

“Bon appetite!” she said, raising her glass to the table.

Everyone responded to the toast except for Tiffany, who was looking at Sam with genuine sympathy in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” She reached over, took his hand and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Just so sorry.”

Chapter 12

S
am stared at his plate
and racked his brain for a way to get out of eating the fish. He could just throw it on the floor, but he had a feeling Carolyn Bast would see that coming and have dishes in reserve.

Tiffany smiled sadly, then turned back and started wolfing down her fish. Sam was startled, until he noticed that everyone else was eating with similar enthusiasm, including Ida and Hector, the other recipients of the “specials.” The general effect was immediate and pretty much like every other recreational drug Sam had encountered: everyone became much more relaxed, with shining eyes and somewhat dopey smiles.

“Wow,” said Phyllida. “Really great fish, Carolyn.”

“Thank you. Of course it’s all in the preparation. My chef is really phenomenal.”

Sam glanced at her plate. The fish appeared to have been pushed around a bit, but he was willing to bet she hadn’t eaten any. There was no way Carolyn Bast would permit herself to lose control in company. Not this company, anyway.

“This is…um…I feel strange,” muttered Hector.

“You’re supposed to,” said Setzen, his single good eye glistening.

“No…I’ve had the fish before…this…ah….”

“Hector’s right,” said Ida, shaking her head. “What’s going on? You said that was just tarragon. Have you…?”

“It is tarragon, Ida. Just ordinary tarragon.”

“But then why…?”

“It reacts with the toxin in the fish. Changes it juuust a tiny bit,” said Setzen, grinning.

“Wh…Am…am I going to die?” The voice was still a steely rasp, but there was fear there too.

“Oh, heavens, no! How could you
think
such a thing? You’re my guest. It would be frightfully bad manners to invite you to dinner and then poison you.”

“Plus, if the Commander was going to kill you, she’d just do it. No messing about. No long speeches.”

“Why, thank you, Setzen.”

“I’m going home,” announced Hector, pushing himself away from the table. He tried to stand up, but seemed suddenly unable to control his legs.

“Please don’t, Hector. Pull your chair up to the table.”

Hector looked at her and opened his mouth as if to protest, then suddenly seemed confused and closed it again.

“I said, pull your chair up to the table.”

Hector did as he was told without hesitation, his face now blank. Sam looked at Ida. She, too, was just sitting, devoid of expression or emotion. For a moment it felt as if time had stopped, then a muffled giggle broke the silence.

“They look so funny,” said Phyllida. “Like dolls. Don’t they look like dolls, Setzen?”

“Just like.”

“Now, Ida,” said Carolyn, ignoring everyone else and speaking as if it were a perfectly normal conversation. “I have to say I was surprised when you accepted my invitation. You must have suspected that something was going on. So why did you come?”

“Couldn’t pass up a chance of seeing inside this place. Talking to you and the banker. Thought Hector was in on it too, but he ain’t.” Her voice sounded the same, but slightly flat, as if she was really tired.

“Did you think I didn’t know that you had been poking your nose in my business?”

“Yes. I was careful.”

“Not careful enough,” muttered Setzen, smirking.

Phyllida had finished her fish and was now running her fingers through the remains of the sauce and licking it off. She stopped at the sound of Setzen’s voice, slid off her chair and climbed onto his lap.

Sam glanced at Carolyn Bast, but she shook her head.

“I see what you’re thinking,” she said. “But sometimes chemical persuasion isn’t necessary. Most times, actually.”

“So she keeps you up to speed on the Mayor’s plans?”

“Such as they are.” Carolyn smiled slightly. “Still, it’s best to have eyes and ears wherever I can, and Setzen enjoys it. Some women really go for the biomechanics.”

She turned back to Ida, who was still sitting bolt upright, her left eyelid twitching slightly.

“Ida?”

“Yes.”

“You will stop all investigation into me, DETH, Inc, Dustin Farmer, Tiffany Farmer, Hector Stone and all financial and energy companies. If anyone suggests that you investigate, you will decline. You already looked into it and there is no story there. Do you understand?”

“Yes. There’s no story there. It’s a waste of time.”

“You may go to sleep now. When you wake up you will only recall a long and dull dinner. Now sleep.”

Ida’s eyes closed and she slowly slid beneath the table.

“Hobbs! Get her out of here. Have someone take her home. Make sure no one sees.”

The eminently useful Hobbs snapped his fingers and two of the waiters hauled Ida out from beneath the table and carried her away.

“You
are
going to have to eat the fish, Sam,” said Carolyn, smiling. “It doesn’t taste anywhere near as nice once it’s gone cold.”

Sam stared at her. Knowing that the tarragon turned the fish toxin into some kind of mind control agent made it worse, somehow. It was like stealing souls.

“Hector?”

“Yes.”

“I’m terribly sorry about this. I was really hoping that you would be more of a businessman, but I suspect you would have gone home and told Bakersfield all about our plans for expansion. Is that right?”

“Yes. You want to start a war. I have to tell them. I have to tell everyone.”

“No, you have forgotten all about it. How was your meal?”

“Fantastic.”

“But the company was dull.”

“The meal was great but the other guests were boring.”

“You left early because you had a great idea. You’re going to solve all Century City’s energy problems by expanding your area of operation. You’re going to drill the Bakersfield deposits.”

“I’m going to drill Bakersfield.”

“You’re really excited about it.”

“It’s a great idea. I don’t understand why no one else has thought of it. That Bast woman thinks she’s so clever. I’ll show her.”

“Yes, don’t get carried away, Hector. If anything goes wrong, you will call me.”

“You promised to help.”

“Just so.”

“Hey, why don’t we get him to move all his accounts to my bank?” said Dustin, his eyes sparkling and his lips unpleasantly damp.

“Hector, where do you bank?”

“Hedges and Harmon. Father and grandfather before me.”

“But they are too old fashioned. You need a new bank. You need to live for the future not in the past. You’ve heard great things about Van Nuys Financial.”

“I have. Great things. I’m moving everything over.”

“Very good. You seem tired now.”

“I am. I’m very tired.”

“You can sleep now, but you’ll remember this voice. This voice is you. You always do what your inner voice says.”

“I do. But I’m very tired now.”

“Go to sleep.”

Hector slumped forward, breaking his plate as his head hit the table.

“Well, that’s annoying,” sighed Carolyn. “He’s spoiled              the set.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” said Dustin, smiling.

“Thank you, that’s very—Setzen, if you’re going to do that, I’d really prefer it if you took her to your room.”

Setzen chuckled and started to stand up, but Phyllida squeaked a protest and whispered in his ear.

“She wants to see the kid eat the fish.”

Sam glared at her.

“Well, you can tell her that I’m not going to eat it.”

“Oh?” Carolyn Bast seemed amused.

“Look, it’s a great party trick and all, but if you want to know stuff just ask me.”

“And you’ll tell the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Do you always tell the truth?”

“No.”

“I see. And what if I want you to do something for me?”

“Maybe I’ll do it.”

“Maybe?”

“Well, I don’t know what it is yet, do I? But I’m guessing the alternative is being killed, so I’m prepared to be reasonable.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

Sam smiled. It was his best smile. The one he saved for really dire situations (and really good ones, though there hadn’t been as many of those). It was the smile he’d used on the farmer’s wife when he’d been cornered in the henhouse with a full box of eggs in that settlement in Montana. He’d been twelve then, and they both knew he was going to sell the eggs in the next town. She should’ve called the local law, but one look at the smile and she gave him the eggs and a hot dinner to see him on his way. He’d used it when he’d won the car and the old coyote who owned it was sure he’d cheated. He probably never stopped believing the kid had cheated, but the smile must have reminded him of himself when he was young, so he’d honored the bet and given him the keys. And he’d used it when he’d inadvertently crossed Ma Perry, who everyone had warned him about, telling him that she owned everything in the small town that was her personal fiefdom, which should have been enough to get him moving on, but wasn’t, because he hadn’t realized that when they said she owned everything in town, they literally meant
everything
. She had killed people for a lot less and was undoubtedly the scariest woman he’d ever met up till now, but the smile had worked its magic and he’d managed to get out alive.

It didn’t work this time, though. Carolyn Bast seemed vaguely amused but not in the least moved.

“Eat the fish.”

“Look—”

“Now.”

Sam stared at the plate. It was beautiful to look at and would undoubtedly taste fantastic, but he felt as though he was being asked to eat a bowl of live spiders. He didn’t want to give up control of his mind, even for an instant, and particularly not to her.

“You can eat it yourself or Hobbs can force it down your gullet. I know which I’d prefer.”

She glanced at Hobbs, who beamed with pleasure at what was, apparently, a compliment.

“How much do I have to eat?”

“All of it.”

Tiffany squeezed his hand under the table again.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It tastes nice, and you won’t remember the other part.”

Sam sighed. No choice. He picked up his fork and began to eat.

It was as delicious as any of the other courses, but it might as well have been chalk for all the pleasure it gave him. He ate it quickly, then sat back and waited.

“A bit more wine for my guests, Hobbs,” said Carolyn.

“You’re sure this is going to work?” asked Dustin.

“This? Oh, you mean Hector! Yes, it’ll work. He’ll give the order for the drilling tomorrow morning. I imagine they’ll arrest the first crew. The second…”

Sam didn’t hear what would happen to the second crew. He felt something warm spreading through his body, sort of starting in his chest, then out to every muscle, relaxing each in turn. Then came the euphoria, a wonderful sense of well-being and happiness. No wonder Tiffany liked the fish so much. The warmth and euphoria were pleasant and mild, and he’d still been able to hear the conversation and understand it, but now something else was happening. Something that didn’t feel good at all—like something was crawling on his skin, into his body and writhing it’s way toward his head. He closed his eyes and grabbed Tiffany’s hand.

And then he saw it.

He opened his eyes again, then gasped and closed them. He could
see
the toxin, just like he saw the inner workings of Carolyn’s safe.

“He looks like he’s in pain,” Tiffany’s voice sounded very far away. “It isn’t supposed to do that, is it?”

A distant murmur was all he heard of Carolyn’s reply. Now he was inside it, he could see the details of its structure, see the changes wrought by the tarragon catalyst…and he knew he could destroy it. He took a deep breath, concentrated, and blew it apart.

And then there was nothing—no warmth, no euphoria, just the room and the voices of those around him. He kept his eyes shut while he considered what to do. The best option was to pretend that it had worked. He dropped Tiffany’s hand and let his arm fall limp at his side, then opened his eyes and adopted the blank expression he’d seen on Ida and Hector.

“There now,” cooed Carolyn. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No.”

Setzen pushed Phyllida off his lap and strode down the table to Sam.

“That didn’t sound right,” he said, peering into Sam’s face. “Are you sure he’s under?”

“Of course he’s under. It works on everyone.”

“Ask him about the plex again.”

“Sam, can you hear the plex?”

Sam hesitated. He could say no, but she already knew that was a lie. Yet every experience in his life up to this point told him that letting her know the truth would be a mistake.

“See? I’m telling you he’s not—”

“Sam, can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Can you hear the plex?”