It wasn't possible, Carnac realised for the ten thousandth time, to leave anything to others. They — any 'they' — could make a hash of the simplest instructions. When the cell door opened, and he saw Toreth and Sara sleeping peacefully, if compactly, together, he made a mental note to have the idiots responsible court-martialled, or at least dismissed without references, and turned to the nearest trooper.
"Wake them. Bring him to my office. She stays here." Hopefully that wouldn't tax the trooper's tiny mind too badly.
The morning had been spoiled already, but Carnac's good mood was restored by the sight of Toreth in handcuffs, standing between two troopers and staring sullenly at the floor. Only a small step from that to imagining his execution. A pity the man would never beg for his life — still, there were substitutes that would be almost as satisfying.
"Good morning." He pushed the chess set aside and leaned back in his chair. "I trust you had a restful night?"
"Fuck you," Toreth said without raising his eyes.
Carnac shook his head, tutting gently. "Temper, temper. We shall have guests soon, and I require your presence at the inspection, free and, you will no doubt be pleased to hear, uncuffed. You will be polite, speak when spoken to, and so on and so forth. If you have any other ideas, remember that I have possession of the delightful Sara."
Toreth looked up quickly. "You
bastard
."
All the reaction he could wish for. He had no intention of hurting Sara (at least not yet — he'd made sure of her inclusion in the first round of executions), but the suggestion provided an excellent restraint for Toreth, should he be considering escape at this point.
"The dear woman must learn that there are consequences to her actions. I promise that she is comfortable and unharmed, and will remain so as long as you are a model of cooperation with our visitors."
"I already did everything you fucking wanted. Let her go." His jaw clenched. "Please."
Perfect. "I suggest you freshen up and have something to eat. I'll have a clean uniform sent to your office. You will be brought down at the appropriate time."
He held Toreth's gaze until the man nodded, then he gestured for the troopers to take him away.
Carnac pulled the chessboard back and started to reset the pieces. In truth, the game bored him, although he found the metaphor amusing. It was too easy, and the constriction of the rules made the opposition too predictable. A game such as the elimination of I&I was far more to his tastes — a mildly challenging opponent, and stakes that really mattered.
He would win this one, and Toreth would lose — the game, and shortly afterwards, his life. Troopers were already preparing to move in and make arrests. Preparing discreetly, naturally. He didn't want to be seen to anticipate the inevitable decision of his esteemed colleagues.
When everything was done, when all the bodies were burned, he would have made a genuine difference for the better, for perhaps the only time in his life. Without the shadow of I&I lying over it, Europe could begin to change; without the crutch of oppression, perhaps even the Administration would be forced to learn to stand up straight and rule for the good of the people. More realistically, many people would at least now live, and be spared terrible suffering, because of his destruction of the interrogation system. It was true that, in general, they would doubtless be dull and uninteresting people but, innocent, criminal or resister, they would be far more human than Toreth and his repellent kin.
He rubbed two pawns between his hands, closed his fists around them and opened his right hand. And smiled.
White.
A pity, really, that he didn't believe in good omens.
Barret-Conner stood by the Int-Sec gate, ID in hand, wondering whether to swipe it.
Yesterday afternoon he hadn't been able to get access to the complex. When he'd called Sara to tell her, something had been wrong in the office. Her voice hadn't given much away, but he'd known her for a long time. He'd taken the hint and left before the guards took too much interest in a failing ID check.
Staying away today might be smart too, but if the inspection was in progress then the Para would need all the help he could get.
Today he had no trouble with the ID — not on the way into the complex, nor at the I&I main door, nor on the way through the building. He was beginning to think he might have overreacted, when he reached the General Criminal central office.
The handful of admins were grouped at the far side of the room, talking in low voices. Barret-Connor didn't pay them any attention. One glance told him that he'd been dead right about the trouble. There was no Sara, and a lot of Service security.
He argued for a while but the guards outside Toreth's office wouldn't let him in. They seemed happy enough to let him go, which was a relief. Round the corner, out of earshot of them, he checked Toreth's comm. No reply. Sara's was dead too. He changed tactics and went in search of Chevril.
As he headed down the corridor towards the coffee rooms, he saw Chevril's admin, Kel, pressing the lift call buttons.
"Kel? Kel! Wait!"
"B-C? Where have you been?"
Barret-Connor jogged down the corridor. When he reached Kel, the lift still hadn't arrived.
"What's going on, Kel?"
"The proverbial, my dear, has hit a very fast fan very hard indeed. Sara and Toreth were arrested yesterday."
"The
Para
?"
"Yes. And right now I have to take a message down to Don
and
I'm supposed to wait in the office to send a warning when they fetch Toreth out of his office. I'm good, but I'm not superhuman." He thumped the row of buttons. "These damnable things are out of order again."
Swearing from Kel, even a 'damnable', meant big trouble. "I'm looking for Chevril anyway — can I take the message to him for you?"
"Would you? Oh, bless you. I've been up and down those dratted stairs a dozen times already today." The admin did look a little sweaty. "Don's somewhere down on level D, near the interrogation supply stores when I heard from him last. Tell him that Systems say everything is green, and they're waiting for word from him to crash the system for a few hours if Carnac tries to fall back on the old interrogation recordings."
"Got it."
"Thank you. Hurry, now." Kel turned and walked briskly away.
It had to be more than the inspection, Barret-Connor decided as he started down the stairs. That had all been planned for and ready to go. Even a surprise start to it didn't account for this, and if Toreth had been arrested yesterday it couldn't be that much of a surprise.
He stopped in mid-stride, having to keep his balance with a hand on the rail. If the Para was out of the picture, who had taken charge? Taking the stairs two at a time seemed like a better idea.
'Level D' was a vague destination, and Barret-Connor wasn't familiar with the interrogation levels. There was more security all throughout the building, but especially on the lower levels. Mostly Service and the kind of I&I people whom the Para persisted in calling 'resisters' when they weren't around to hear him.
Eventually he found Chevril with the head of security and Senior Para Belkin. Before Barret-Connor had taken more than a couple of strides down the corridor, all three snapped to face him, conversation cutting off. Their expressions confirmed his guess — Chevril looked close to panic and Belkin glowered. Even Bevan seemed edgy.
When it registered who he was, Chevril seemed relived to see him. Belkin merely looked more furious — probably embarrassment.
"Have you seen Toreth?" Chevril asked.
"No. There are Service guards outside his office, though."
Bevan raised his eyes and sighed theatrically, and Barret-Connor braced himself for the invective. However, all the HoS said was, "I know
that
." Then he turned back to Chevril and Belkin. "We have to stick to the plan, if we're going to do anything at all."
"He knows," Chevril said.
"There's no reason the bastard should," Bevan said.
"I bumped into him not long after he came in. He's suspicious. It isn't going to work."
They must be talking about Carnac. "The inspection's started?" Barret-Connor asked.
Bevan looked at his watch. "Shit. Soon. Probably very fucking soon."
"And it better had be." Belkin spoke for the first time. "Things won't hold together much longer as it is. Listen, Bev's right — we can't change the plan now. It's too late. People are confused enough about what the hell they're supposed to tell people with all the changes yesterday."
Chevril shook his head. "That's the bloody problem. Someone's going to say the wrong bloody thing. They won't know whether they're talking to Carnac or the inspectors or Carnac's Service friends or us. It's hopeless."
Barret-Connor's heart sank. Were they thinking about bolting? If they were, there was nothing he could do about it. Seniors wouldn't listen to an investigator, and the HoS never listened to anyone. Was there any way of getting a warning to the Para?
"The inspectors will have to notice," Chevril continued. "And then they'll ask and some bloody idiot will spill everything."
Bevan looked at him sharply and opened his mouth, then closed it again. Barret-Connor wondered what he'd been about to say. Instead, the head of security turned to him.
"Can you get me a half a dozen investigators? Preferably a dozen. Throw in a few admins if you have to, if they can do what they're fucking told without bollocksing it up."
He ran through a mental list. "Yes."
"Good lad. My office, ten minutes. Get going."
Carnac met the inspectors in the main entrance. Toreth was there before him, shaved and in a fresh uniform and looking, actually, rather better than he had for some time. The night's rest in the cell had done him good and he had regained control of himself. He had his hands clasped in front of him, though — a reflex position left over from the cuffs.
Chevril was also there, standing as far from Toreth as the reception allowed, hollow-eyed and slightly disheveled. Carnac made a point of going over to speak to him, purely for the pleasure of watching Toreth's composure crack once more as he realised the truth.
"Is everything in order?" Carnac asked.
Chevril nodded, his eyes on Toreth. "Fine. Can I —"
"You will stay."
Now Chevril looked at him, a long, searching inspection. Then he nodded again. "We still have a deal," he said without conviction.
Carnac smiled and returned to his station to wait in silence. Chevril stared at the wall, Toreth glared at his fellow para with murder in his eyes, and Carnac breathed deeply, wondering whether the executions could possibly be more enjoyable than this.
The heavy main doors were, for once, open, letting cold, fresh air into the building, although the light outside was subdued, the sky overcast with threatening clouds. A most metaphorical morning, Carnac thought, as the inspection team's cars drew up outside. He watched them assemble by the reception desk — his own careful choices with a sprinkling of less amenable but necessary men and women with the political clout to make this work.
Less amenable on the surface, perhaps. However, they had ordered the arrests that had provided him with the prisoners downstairs, and done so against his own strongly expressed advice — a nice touch, he thought. Personal responsibility for the horrors on display would overcome any lingering pragmatic feelings they might have about the means being used here to further their selfish ends.
He stepped forwards, beckoning Toreth over beside him. He turned to the group, but before he could speak, Toreth whispered, "Let Sara out. Now. She comes round with us or I don't cooperate."
Damn the man — didn't he know when he'd lost? There wasn't time to argue, so Carnac gave the order to a guard, and then addressed the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if I might begin. I would like to introduce you to Valantin Toreth, the Acting Assistant Director of the Investigation and Interrogation Division of the Department of Internal Security . . ."
Warrick cancelled the call for the third time that morning. Toreth's personal comm was dead, Sara wasn't answering, and I&I reception were stoically declaring them both to be 'unavailable'.
He was waiting in his flat for news once more, this time with only the professionally distant SimTech guard for company. He crossed to the living room window and looked out. A light snow was falling, although it wouldn't settle on the wet pavement. The forecast predicted ice tonight, though.
He'd limited himself to one call an hour, trying to not to attract Carnac's attention. Odd how a man he had once considered, if not a friend, then at least friendly, had become unquestionably the enemy. That despite the harmony of their views about the desirability of the closure of I&I.
He could pretend it was the danger to Kate, or even that he was unwilling to watch so many killed in cold blood when there was an alternative available. Even Tarin had agreed with that, in a way. However, it was a lie. He'd been willing for Toreth's colleagues to die, and for I&I staff across Europe to share the same fate. He'd been willing to stand back and let Toreth risk his own life if that was what he insisted on doing.
However, as soon as Toreth was threatened so personally, he had acted without hesitation and without consideration of the risk. No. He
had
considered, and for Toreth he had found it worthwhile. He smiled ruefully at his reflection, wondering what Dilly would say about it, in the unlikely event that he could ever tell her what had happened.
Three calls were enough. Now he would have to wait for Toreth to call him. He turned away from the window. He might as well go in to SimTech — the odds of getting any useful work done were slim, but there would be some distractions.
Twenty minutes into the tour, Carnac knew that he had lost. The interrogation rooms they saw were empty of anything more offensive than chairs and tables and the staff they spoke to beautifully briefed. In the end, he gave up on his attempts to break the facade. Obviously any potentially problematical employees had been encouraged to take the day off.