"You're sure he was telling the truth?"
"Give me some credit for knowing my job."
Bevan nodded. "So why the hell are you in my office?"
"Looking for advice."
"No, I asked why the hell you're in
my
office."
"Collecting favours owed. And I trust you." He shrugged, deciding to go for all-out honesty. "Or at least, I don't trust anyone else here any more, and I've got no chance of stopping him on my own."
"You can cut and run." Bevan said it without any particular inflection, just offering an option.
"Like I said before, this is personal. I won't let him win, if there's any way to prevent it."
"Giving your life so that we might live?"
Toreth didn't recognise the quotation, but he could spot irony. "Fuck, no. If it comes to that, you won't see me for dust."
"Just checking. I'd hate to be thinking about throwing my lot in with someone who's completely fucking insane."
"So you'll do it?"
Bevan drained his cup, coughed, and stared down into it. "I said I was thinking about it."
Toreth waited while Bevan considered the proposal, or pretended to. He didn't have much doubt as to the outcome. Bevan lived for his job here, for the considerable personal power he'd hoarded over the years and the niche he'd cut for himself. Without his post as I&I Head of Security, and with the people he knew so much about dead or dispersed, he'd be nothing more than a late-fifties bureaucrat with a string of ex-wives and a CV that wouldn't endear him to anyone in the new Administration.
Prompting seemed to be required, though, and persuasion. Bevan liked to feel that he was being obliging.
Toreth moved to the edge of his chair and spoke quietly. "I need your help, Bev. If you say no then I might as well start running now, because I can't do this without you."
Bevan looked up and shook his head. "I can see how you got that fucking spook bending over for you. Switch it off, for Christ's sake." He waited another few seconds, then said, "I can't say as I give a shit for many of the interrogators, or most of the paras come to that, but it'll be my fucking pleasure to screw Carnac over. I'm in."
Toreth grinned, not hiding his relief.
"So what's the plan?" Bevan continued.
"I haven't got one yet. I wasn't kidding about needing you. If you'd said no, I'd have been booking tickets out of here by now."
Bevan nodded, looking even more morose than usual, which meant he was pleased. "Well, yell when you want me."
"Before I can do anything or talk to anyone, I need to know about the interior surveillance. What can Carnac see?"
"Everything that you can see from your office — you've got all the clearance there is."
"I know about all the official surveillance. But I don't know about whatever else is out there."
Bevan's eyes crinkled in what was nearly a smile. "Well, I've got a few little tricks. I had feeds from the Director's office, from — "
"
Carnac's
office? Fuck. Can you put that through to me?"
"I said 'had'. About the only positive thing Captain Clueless managed to do was rip it out. From there, and a few other offices the Service people are in now."
Toreth bet he knew exactly where the orders to remove those feeds had come from. He also had the acutely uncomfortable feeling that Carnac had seen this moment, this conversation, coming a long time ago and planned for it. If he closed his eyes, he'd see black and white squares all around him and feel Carnac's hand, moving him across the board.
It was paranoia. Nothing but stress and paranoia. However, right now 'cut and run' didn't seem like such a bad option. If Carnac would let him go, which was a bloody big if.
"Toreth?"
"Sorry. Thinking. What about senior paras?"
"Office surveillance was on the original plans, but the tight-arsed bastards cut it for cost. So they're all clean, except a few I keep a special eye on — you don't rate that, by the way. Not before today, anyway. I'll have to put something in."
Possibly a joke, but as Bevan's expression didn't change he couldn't be sure.
"A few other places," he continued. "Nothing important for this. All the comms are monitored, obviously — and that's personal comms used in the building as well. If there's anything more, then it's nothing to do with me. There could be an office somewhere in Int-Sec that has us on screen right now, and the bastard upstairs could have a link to it, considering the friends he's got. But if that's true, then it's bloody well put together, because I've never found any evidence. And, believe me, I've looked."
Toreth nodded. That would have to be assurance enough. At least it set out the parameters of where was safe.
"Who else are you going to tell?" Bevan asked.
"I don't know. Probably no one, until I've got something sorted out. Except Sara, of course."
"Jesus, you could just tell everyone straight away."
He pushed down the sudden surge of anger. "She won't say anything."
"Are we talking about the same bloody admin here? Gossip queen of I&I? I didn't get my regrettably graphic knowledge of your sex life from wiring up your bedroom."
He waved the point aside. "That sort of thing doesn't matter. For the important stuff she can keep her mouth shut." Usually.
"Okay. Who else? Carnac's going to be watching you, you know. You'll need someone to get things done, and people will notice if I start running your fucking errands."
Toreth considered. Sara was his first choice, but Carnac would be watching her too and besides, she was already too busy. B-C and Mistry might attract less attention, but while they were good investigators he wasn't confident of their skills as conspirators. "What about Chevril?"
"Don Chevril? Senior Para? He's a pillock."
"True. But he's a pillock I've known for a long time, and he owes me. He's a senior, he's got the rank to get things done. Besides, he's still on the sick at the moment, so he can limp back in and potter around without it looking suspicious."
Bevan shrugged. "If you think you can trust him. Prat. At least don't tell him until you absolutely fucking have to. When you've got a plan and you need some help. No point going out of our way to make sure Carnac hears what's going on."
"Fair enough." Toreth looked at his watch, surprised by how much time had passed. "I've got things to do. Work hasn't stopped just because Carnac wants to kill everyone."
"Yeah." Bevan leaned back in his chair, and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. "It all makes sense, you know."
"What does?"
"I've been shoving screenfuls of requisitions and orders across that wanker's desk and he's signed off every sodding thing without a murmur. I've been tempted to try putting a case of Scotch past him, see if he notices. But of course he isn't going to care about the bloody budget, is he, if his major future expense is fucking cremations?"
Carnac must be getting a huge kick out of that. Laughing at the lot of them as they went about their doomed lives while he counted down the days. Well, the bastard was going to regret it, that was for sure. Knowing about Carnac's plan was the first step towards stopping it.
Now he just had to work out what the hell he was going to do.
"So?" Sara asked, following Toreth into his office. "What's going on?"
She'd been waiting for him to get back ever since Carnac had been and gone. From the socioanalyst's manner — unusually readable — she'd known that something was up.
Toreth paused, halfway into his chair, then sat down.
"We're in shit, that's what's going on."
"Carnac?"
He nodded. "Short version: he's planning to drive a pack of his traitor friends through here and bounce them into taking I&I apart while they're still throwing up from the shock of seeing how the real world works."
The short version was too short for her to handle in a single piece. "Taken apart?"
"Yes. We're going to be shut down, dismantled and — this is the good part — executed. Paras, interrogators and probably investigators. Basically, it looks like anyone who's done the interrogation intro course is for it."
Her first instinct was to say it couldn't happen. That only lasted long enough for her to remember her walk through the blood-stained interrogation levels. Judicial murders, with Carnac's hand guiding them, would be just another facet of the hatred that had fuelled the slaughter there.
"What about the admins?" she asked.
Toreth shrugged. "Don't know. He didn't say anything about any of the support staff."
"But that doesn't mean — " Then her brain caught up with his words. "He didn't
say
anything?"
Toreth nodded. "It's all straight from the horse's mouth, courtesy of Daedra and a far more enjoyable fucking than he deserved."
"So that's where you were last night. Warrick did wonder, and so did I. Why didn't you tell me what you were doing?"
Toreth shrugged. "I don't take chances where Carnac's concerned. The fewer people who knew about it beforehand, the better."
"I wouldn't have told him."
He didn't say anything. She wanted to say it wasn't fair, but she couldn't. She'd talked to Carnac before, and told him things about Toreth that only she knew. Even though it had been three years ago, and although it had happened before either of them had appreciated what Carnac was, Toreth wasn't interested in excuses. He had a long memory for betrayals of his trust.
"I wouldn't have told him," she repeated. Then, seeing him start to frown, she added, "It doesn't matter now, anyway. What're we going to do?"
"I'm still working it through. But I know one thing — he's not going to get what he wants. When he walks out of here for the last time, I&I is going to be as rock solid as ever. I'm going to fuck him a lot more thoroughly than I did last night."
Her heart sank at the determination in his voice. She'd been thinking more about how they could get away. "Are you . . . sure that's the best thing?"
He stared at her, surprised. "What the fuck else can we do? Let him execute everyone?"
"No, of course not!" Blood. Blood and bodies — people she knew. Friends. "But maybe we should be thinking about the longer term than just screwing up Carnac's plans."
His eyes narrowed. "Such as?"
"Toreth, if we survive this one, what's to stop it all happening again in a few years? Next year? Give Carnac what he wants. Shut I&I down before his inspection and that'll be the end of it. He said we were an anachronism and maybe he was right about that. Nobody wants us, not really — they were just too frightened to speak out."
Not her words. They sounded strange, even to her own ears. She'd been angry when Rob had said it but now, through the filter of fear, it made a lot more sense.
"Well, well, well." Toreth leaned back in his chair, appearing interested rather than annoyed. "Where's all this coming from? I can't see you being suddenly struck with revolutionary fervour. Or spontaneously joining Carnac's crusade, not even given his usual wet-knickers effect on you. So it must be something else. Some
one
else, maybe?"
Oh, hell. He was too good that this. She must have given something away, because he smiled. "Am I getting warmer? How about . . . Rob? Rob, with his safe, clean corporate number? Putting in a hard night's work, sitting on his arse, drinking Warrick's coffee and fucking his guests. Rescuing pussy cats."
She wasn't going to rise to the bait. "It's got nothing at all to do with R — with McLean. I'm — " I'm frightened. He wouldn't want to hear that, and wouldn't care anyway. "I'm just trying to be realistic. This isn't section politics with Tillotson, or fighting Psychoprogramming over budgets. This is Carnac we're talking about. Do you really want to play against him for those kinds of stakes?"
Toreth ignored her question. "Does McLean think his nice little world would stay safe if we all packed up and went home? Or maybe we should let the resisters go around blowing up reeducation centres and inciting discontent? That sort of thing isn't going to go away just because Carnac and his friends are in charge now. All it comes down to in the end is that McLean is too fucking gutless to accept what has to be done. He's no different to Carnac."
Although she had no obligation at all to defend him, she couldn't help it — not for that. "He's nothing of the kind. Just shut up!"
"Hey, you're the one who wanted to talk politics. Now you see why I never bother discussing that kind of bollocks with
my
fucks."
It was far too late, but she tried for icy dignity. "For your information, I'm not screwing him."
"Really?" He put his hands behind his head. "Well, maybe you should be. It might put you in a better mood, at least. I see I see?"
ICIC. Insufficient Cock In Cunt.
After that, the choice was between hitting him, and leaving. The problem with Toreth, one of the many problems with him, was that he was too damn fast to land a punch on. So she left.
She'd been at her desk for five minutes when Toreth came out of his office. For a moment, she thought he would apologise, but of course he didn't.
"I'm going to see Warrick. If anyone turns up . . . " He frowned. "Just tell them something. B-C's in charge while I'm gone. I'll be back later."
It was only after he'd gone that she realised he was frightened too. She should have seen it in the office, hidden behind the taunting. Or at least, if he wasn't scared in the same way that she was by the mere idea of Carnac wanting them dead, then he was deeply unnerved by the scale of the threat.
And he hadn't suggested a single thing they could do about it.
Carnac had declined to travel to this session of the New Administrative Council in person, something for which he was now profoundly grateful. A flight or train journey to Brussels first thing that morning would have been insupportable; a comm link was quite bad enough.
Over the course of the meeting, the proportion of Carnac's attention devoted to listening to his esteemed colleagues slipped from ninety percent to somewhere around five. Mutual congratulation was the order of the day, and it always pained Carnac to see people who had so little justification for it feeling pleased with themselves.