The Administration Series (214 page)

Paranoia again, although perhaps not, after everything that had happened.

Finally, Warrick shook his head. "I'll do what I can. I have an idea of something I can try. And if the worst comes to the worst, I can go to Int-Sec and make a fuss in the hope that someone there will hear about it who doesn't like the idea of an agent on trial."

"They won't like you standing there telling them you know who one of their agents is."

Warrick smiled dryly. "And that is why it's the last resort. I promise I'll do my best to avoid it. Just to make one more thing clear: I haven't changed my stance on the other question. I won't help you with anything else."

"Just get Kate out and I can manage fine without you."

"I'm sure you can." He stood up, brushing cake crumbs from his jacket. "If that's all, then I should go."

Toreth realised he didn't want him to go yet, however urgent the errand. He hadn't seen Warrick for what felt like weeks, and they hadn't said a word that wasn't connected to I&I. Not that he could think of anything now. "Warrick, what did you find on Kate's computer?"

Warrick glanced up sharply, then schooled his expression into neutrality. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does." Because he so obviously didn't want to say, and because it would keep him here for a little while longer — he only had a few minutes anyway. "Tell me."

Warrick sat down again, slowly, his face still unreadable. "Letters. Letters she'd written to my father. One a week, every week. I've been back in since, a couple of times, and she's still writing them, or she was the New Year before last. There's never anything explicit in them, nothing that says it outright, but if you read enough of them it's obvious what she is. What both of them are."

So he knew about that too. "Were there any from him?"

"No. But then I doubt she would have kept them there in any case — that would be somewhat suspicious, given that he's supposed to have been dead for over thirty years. There was no obvious evidence of an address to which she sent her letters, if she sent them anywhere. I didn't pry too deeply. However, he may well never have seen them."

"So why do it? It's a stupid risk — you proved that."

Warrick smiled slightly. "People in love do stupid things; as a condition, it's famous for it. Obviously I've never asked why — I've never so much as hinted that I knew — but personally, I think she wanted to give him something of years they didn't get together. Or rather, the edited version. There's a lot about Dilly and me but nothing about Tar. Not a word. I imagine that all went in the official reports."

"Official reports? Why?"

"You've met him." His voice was cool and distant. "Think about it."

Toreth blinked. "Jesus."

"Yes. Quite. That's something else I have known for a long time. I have to go now if you want my assistance to do any good." He stood again, but didn't leave. "Will you be coming back to the flat tonight?"

"I can't. Not because I don't want to, but Carnac's keeping me at I&I."

His eyes narrowed. "Keeping?"

Toreth turned his sleeve back briefly to show the bracelet. "Until it's all over, which shouldn't be that long. The inspection's got to be sometime tomorrow, or the next couple of days at the latest. Don't worry — he's not going to do anything until after that. He's not even there, for one thing, and he's the type who likes to watch."

Warrick nodded. "I see. Be careful."

"Yes." Had Warrick ever said that to him before? "Of course I will."

He watched Warrick walk away across the cafe, and started sentences in his mind. Don't go yet. I want five minutes, that's all. One minute. I want you. This could be the last time I see you. This really could be the last time. I want you to —

Toreth looked at his watch and started running.

Warrick stood, looking at the door, and wondering what to tell Tarin. In a way, he hoped that if Kate had been taken, something would have been said. That it wouldn't be down to him. Now he was here, he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. What was the point? It would be sheer cruelty to tell Tar now, when it could do no possible good.

For almost your whole life, Kate was running you, stealing your secrets, using you to betray your friends. I have no idea how many of them died because of her. I knew, for years, but I never told you because I was afraid that if everything blew up it would take Jen and Dilly and me with it.

He didn't know Tarin well, but he knew he wouldn't be able to handle that, because who would? And, more pragmatically, he needed his help now, and there had to be as small a chance as possible of Tarin doing anything to alert Carnac to the fact that knowledge of his plan had escaped I&I. If that happened, Carnac might well have Kate executed straight away. Or worse, processed by the psychoprogrammers, and then Toreth would also die.

So that left silence, both expedient and kinder. He might be able to find a way to tell Tar later, when everything was over one way or another. Kate probably wouldn't be coming back here, whether he managed somehow to get her out, or whether she was executed.

His finger hovering over the button, he realised that he had, finally, stopped even thinking about her as his mother. It was Kate now, and it always would be.

He activated the comm, wondering whether he'd been worrying needlessly. Carnac might have been lying — Kate might still be here. He didn't really believe that, and any lingering optimism vanished when Tarin opened the door and Warrick saw his face.

"I thought you weren't coming," Tarin said. "Why didn't you reply?"

"Reply to what?"

"I left you a message."

Without thinking, he said, "I didn't get it."

"Didn't — then what are you doing here?"

He picked up the case he'd brought with him. "Are you going to let me in, or do you want to discuss this on the doorstep?"

Tarin stepped reluctantly out of the way. The house felt different — sounded different. Vacant. No longer anything like a home. Dismissing the feeling, he set off towards Kate's study, Tarin following him.

"What the hell are you doing here if you didn't get my message? Messages."

"I'll explain later. What happened?"

"They turned up this morning, and they just took her. No explanation, no warrant. They seemed to think the guns were good enough due process. God, I thought . . . I'd hoped everything like that was over now."

"Who's 'they'?"

"I have no idea. They had Service uniforms on, but I doubt that means anything."

"You're probably right."

They reached the study door. Unlocked. He started to push it open, then hesitated. "Did they go in here?"

"No. Well, not really. She was in there when they came. But they didn't do anything in there, at least that I noticed. They just took her. Keir, what the hell's going on? How did you know?"

"Toreth."

"
Toreth
? They were I&I then." Tarin paled. "Oh, Jesus. She's there? That place? I hoped they'd closed it down."

"Toreth heard about the arrest, that's all. I don't know how he knew, I don't know who took her, or why, and I don't know where she is."

Three lies out of four. Fortunately, Tarin had never been able to read him the way that Dilly could.

Warrick opened the door and went in. He'd hoped that the computer might still be on, but she'd obviously had time to shut it down before they arrived. For a moment he considered trying to power it up and get hold of the information like that, but it was too risky.

Opening the case, he set the system he'd brought on the desk, then started dismantling Kate's system. To his relief, it was as ordinary inside as it appeared to be outside — of course, there was no point having anything in the house which might compromise her cover.

He'd expected Tarin to ask what he was doing, but he simply leaned on the wall and watched for a while. Once Warrick started freeing the memory stores, Tarin shook his head and said, "Tea?"

"What? Oh, thanks."

By the time Tarin returned, with tea and some of Jen's cake, he had the system running. He watched as it scanned through the memory, hunting information. If there was too much encrypted on there, he'd have to take it back to SimTech, with all the dangers that would expose them to. Better to do it here if possible.

"Where's Valeria?" Warrick asked, filling time.

"With her mother. She's going to stay with Philly until everything's sorted out. It seemed like the best idea — the bastards frightened Val badly enough when they took Mother. I thought . . . well, I thought that if they came back for me, it would be much better for her not to have to see it."

He sounded so calm, so matter of fact, that Warrick looked up from the system. Tarin shrugged. "I've always known that the things I do, the people I associate with, are dangerous."

"Why are you still here then?"

"I thought I'd better wait for you. You seemed like the most likely person I knew who might be able to do something for her."

He wished he had the same kind of confidence in himself that Tarin and Toreth seemed to have. "Where's Jen?"

"She went to stay with a friend, eventually. Took me a while to persuade her but she agreed in the end. I told her to go with Philly and Val, but you know how small Philly's flat is and — am I interrupting anything important?"

"No, it's fine." This must be the longest they'd spent together for years, without arguing. "I'm waiting for the system to finish the first pass."

"What are you looking for?"

"I need a clue as to where they took her, which means finding out why they took her."

"I though it was obvious."

He went cold. "What?"

"Me. Or something to do with me. Something I've done, traceable back to this house. Except they took her instead of me."

Warrick didn't know what to say — couldn't think of anything to say that didn't lead towards dangerous explanations.

"It's my fault she's gone," Tarin continued. "I should've asked why they wanted her, I should've said that it was me."

"Tarin, they wouldn't have listened to you. Or they would have taken both of you."

"Maybe. But I didn't try. I didn't do anything except stand there and watch. God. I feel like such a coward."

The only thing he could possibly say to explain that it wasn't true would make things a thousand times worse. So he said, "We'll get her back, Tar. I promise."

Tarin nodded and lowered himself carefully to sit against the wall, mug in his hands. "She doesn't have a lot of furniture in here, does she? I never noticed before. Never been in here much, I suppose."

"Well, it's an office. She's always wanted to keep work and family separate." He could have kicked himself, except that Tarin had no idea why there was anything noteworthy about the comment.

"She was arrested once before," Tarin said. "Although you were far too young at the time to remember. I waited here, with Aunt Jen, until they brought her back. Only one day. But I thought she was never coming back, like Leo. And you and Dilly asking for her, all the time. Well, you asking. Dilly just crying. Jen cried too — I found her in the kitchen. Scared the hell out of me, and then she lied and told me she'd been cutting onions or some such rubbish. God, it was awful."

He sipped his tea. "I think that's why I couldn't say anything when they took Mother away. I couldn't bear the idea of leaving Val behind, of putting her through that."

It was disconcerting, not to mention discomfiting, to hear Tarin saying anything like that. "I didn't know you remembered so much about it. You never said anything before."

"Well, it was the big family secret, wasn't it? Mother and Jen used to go on and on about it. 'Don't tell the children, you must never tell the children'. Like I wasn't one of them." He looked up. "You found out, though, didn't you?"

"I did. But then I listened at a lot of doors. I don't think Dilly knows, not about what happened to Leo, anyway."

Tarin shifted against the wall. "That's what I can't understand, Keir. You know how he died, and you're still . . .
with
that man."

"It's got nothing to do with Toreth. He was hardly born when it happened. I&I didn't even exist."

It wasn't much of an argument. He thought Tarin might pursue it, but in the end he shook his head. "It's your conscience, I suppose, if you can live with it."

"Things are changing, Tar. I&I's still there, but there's going to be reforms." Some kind of comfort, the best he could offer. "Toreth's involved in it. No more interrogations, no more deaths in custody. The kind of thing you've always wanted to happen."

"No. I wanted it destroyed. It's not over until that place, and the rest of Int-Sec, is torn down and everyone who worked there is — " He stopped.

"Dead. Say it, if you mean it."

"No. Yes, I was going to say it, but I don't mean it. You might not believe it, but when I saw the pictures of what happened there . . . I never wanted it to be like that. More death, more suffering — what's the point? But let's drop it. I don't want to argue."

A surprise and a relief. "Really?"

Tarin smiled tiredly. "First time for everything."