The Beam: Season Three (81 page)

There was a beat of silence in the hover. Then Kate said, “I was promised something funny.”

“Isaac and Micah can both go fuck themselves. I’m sure this won’t even rock them a little. They’ll wake up tomorrow, and one will call the other, and they’ll start bitching and yelling and plotting and scheming. Bet you anything one of them will use what happened tonight as a leverage point.” Kai watched Nicolai’s head begin to bob. “Yes.
Micah
. Micah will probably call a press conference. Say that
this
time, Enterprise do-gooders were only trying to help a good cause, and the raff still wasn’t happy. You saw that guy who came at us.”
 

“Who came at
you,”
Kate corrected.
 

“Rainbow headband. Braids. Some sort of borderline malcontent. That’s what Micah will say. Even though it won’t be remotely enough to move the needle on Shift, he’ll try anyway. And he’ll throw Isaac under the bus. Because that’s how he is.”

The car fell silent. Then Kai said, “That girl. The hologram.” She looked at the backs of Nicolai and Kate’s heads. “That was Violet James. The
real
Violet James.”
 

Nicolai, who of all people should have appreciated the hideous revelation that logically followed, merely sighed. Respero was a sham. Dead people’s minds were being harvested and bulk-saved, probably for use as Mindbender guinea pigs, based on what the Vale hologram had implied. So what? It was too much to think about now. And Kai, in the quiet that followed, found herself having to agree.

Kai jumped as her heads-up display activated without permission.

“Gettin’ excited back there?” said Kate, apparently noticing Kai’s start.
 

“Just got mail.”
 

Kai blinked and took a slow breath before responding.
 

“It’s from Rachel Ryan.”
 

Nicolai turned fully around. The hover swerved as the autodrive snatched control back from manual. They all lurched sideways in their seats.

“I thought you killed Rachel,” Nicolai said.
 

“Based on the timestamp, she sent it this morning. It’s on a delayed send.” Kai swallowed. “Meant to arrive after she knew she’d be dead.”

Still turned, his arm across the seat, Nicolai said, “A message in a bottle. What’s it say, Kai?”

Kai opened the message then read the text on her display’s semitransparent screen, watching Nicolai’s serious face as he waited.
 

Kai blinked the display away.
 

“It’s a gift. For all of us.”
 

“All
of us?” Kate said.
 

“Even you. Apparently, your secret isn’t as safe as you’d thought. It’s for all three of us, plus Omar Jones, if you ever care to see him again.”

Kate scoffed at that, but Nicolai was still watching Kai’s eyes.
 

“What is it, Kai? What did Rachel give us?”
 

Kai looked out the window then back at Nicolai.
 

“The Beau Monde,” Kai said. “We’re all a part of it now.”

Chapter Nineteen

“You’ll be pleased to hear,” Clive said, “that your request was granted.”
 

Micah looked up. He didn’t want to be in Clive’s office right now. He didn’t want to be waiting for the Shift results to come in — not just right now, but possibly ever. And he
definitely
didn’t want Clive thinking he’d done Micah a solid, and might be owed a favor in return. Because what could Clive do right now that Micah could possibly appreciate? Had he brought Isaac back from the dead? Had he somehow managed to get Carter Vale killed after all? Finding out that Vale survived Braemon’s fundraiser as cleanly as Micah (and, appropriately, Braemon himself) had been baffling. He’d assumed his mother had been behind what had happened — not just the little rug-pull at the end of Jameson’s trick, but the ensuing melee — but had likewise assumed the reason was to cover an assassination on Vale.
 

No such luck. Not that Micah cared about Shift anymore. It was just nice to have company when things fell to shit.
 

“What request?” Micah didn’t even try to keep the annoyance from his voice.
 

“Beau Monde for your friends, Costa and Dreyfus.”

“I thought it was out of your hands?”
 

Clive sat opposite Micah, a drink in his hand as usual.
 

“It wasn’t out of your mother’s.”
 

“Rachel?”
 

Clive nodded. “The morning before she died. She didn’t hold all of the aces, but she did pluck those four.”
 

“Four?”
 

“Your two, plus two more. Omar Jones and Kate Rigby.”
 

“Who’s Kate Rigby?”
 

“You aren’t curious about Jones?”
 

Micah sighed then picked up his own glass from the end table. Maybe alcohol would make it better.
 

“No. Omar’s slimy as hell. I’m surprised it took him this long.”
 

Clive crossed his legs. “You aren’t pleased? You came to me asking about it, and now it’s done.”
 

Micah lifted his eyes without raising his head. His tongue found the corner of his cheek, and he felt his brow stiffen.
 

“Don’t pretend you had anything to do with this, Clive. It was all Rachel. She knew what I was planning, and yet again she was ten steps ahead of me. She was probably behind those cyborg intruders, though I can’t imagine why…or maybe that was Purcell?”
 

“You can ask him yourself if you want.”
 

Micah stood. He couldn’t get comfortable. This should be a time of victory, and yet it was all so sour. He crossed to the window then looked out across the city with his hands clasped behind his back as if this were his office and he were in charge.
 

“You got what you wanted, Micah,” Clive said from his chair. “Your membership to Panel went through without a problem. Iggy didn’t even need to fight for you. He told the others that it’s what Rachel wanted, and he has seniority. Only Alexa seemed bothered — probably because she’s never liked it when Rachel got what she wanted. And if you ask me, we’ll be filling Alexa’s seat next.”
 

“How long do you think she has?”
 

“Forget about Alexa. Let’s talk about you.”

Micah turned. To Clive’s side were two large Beam windows that almost spanned the entire wall, one red and the other blue. Each had a large black number in the middle. Why Clive had his room set up to watch the Senate tally roll in as if it were a sporting event, Micah couldn’t imagine. They’d know before the public would, but so what? It was all so banal. It was strange to think that the entirety of the last six years came down to two numbers on a wall — and even stranger to think that either outcome could truly matter to any of Micah’s twenty new best frenemies. But for the past hour they’d been watching those numbers tick like an unsteady heartbeat. The blue Directorate wall was winning by a few Senate votes, as predicted.
 

“I don’t feel like being psychoanalyzed by you, Clive.”
 

“I’m asking as a friend.”
 

“I’m fine.”
 

“You’re sure? I think I know how things were with you and Rachel, but Isaac…”
 

“I’d really rather not talk about it.”
 

Clive’s head bobbed as if to say,
Fair enough.
“How is Natasha handling things?”
 

That was a tricky question, hinging a bit on the assumption that Micah was his sister-in-law’s keeper, which he more or less had been for the past two days. Natasha had gone home with Micah on the night of the fundraiser then never left. She was an easy houseguest. All she did was immerse, sleep, and cry. She wasn’t even disturbing Micah’s food supply.

“She’s taking her time.”
 

“The sheets keep asking. I’ve been deflecting inquiries.”
 

Micah doubted that. Clive was Panel’s connection to the media just like Eli was its liaison to the hacker community, and Craig had Panel’s only inside line to the police, NPS, and Quark. But the idea that Clive was interfering personally to protect Natasha Ryan during her time of grieving? That was ludicrous.
 

A movement from beside Clive caught Micah’s eye. The Directorate number clicked up two, to forty-four. Enterprise held fast at thirty-eight. Just nineteen Senators left to report, and then they could stick a fork in this hideous, riot-filled, murderous Shift. And good fucking riddance.
 

“Okay.”

“You know, Micah,” Clive said, his tone suddenly more serious, as if he’d grown tired of coddling, “you’re Panel now, but that doesn’t mean it’s smooth sailing for Micah Ryan. If you want to play ball up here, you’ll need to make friends.”
 

Micah’s head turned. In the corner of his eye, both numbers clicked up — Directorate by another two, Enterprise by six. The wall stood at forty-six to forty-four. That was unexpected.
 

“In your shoes,” Clive went on, “I’d consider respecting my elders.”
 

“Oh, come off it, Clive. I’m just as — ”

Clive held up a single finger. It was his way of shouting, coming from a man who’d earned the right to never shout.

“You’re not,” he said. “Don’t pretend you are. Sure, you were a rubber stamp onto Panel because your mother’s been making it clear for years that she intended for you to take her slot when she died. She was an evil bitch, Micah, but she’d earned her respect. I can only remember three people who’ve ever stood up against her and held firm. Two came up mysteriously dead, and the third is Alexa. Now, I’m not saying Rachel was behind those men’s deaths, but let’s just say she didn’t shed any tears or act the slightest bit surprised. And they weren’t lightweights, even by Panel standards. One of them, Colin Hawes, worked closely with Noah on an adaptation of my software that we all had great hopes for. Hawes was the founder of Granite Quarry.”

“I know who Colin Hawes is, Clive.”
 

“Hawes was using that software on a Quarry beta rollout. After Noah died, Quarry was the only system using it. But he ended up dead, and the answers about how to make that software work correctly went with him. It was an enormous loss.”

“So what?”
 

“Rachel didn’t care who she crossed or what the consequences were. Your mother’s cutthroat reputation —
not
your merit — got you the green light. I’d keep that in mind. And I wouldn’t be a good…
friend
…to you if I let you think you had carte blanche now that you’ve
made it
.”
 

Micah tried to harden his stare, but it was impossible to hold. He’d grown up idolizing Clive, seeing him as larger than life, like everyone else. The same was true of most members of Panel — Alexa Mathis most definitely included. Micah was someone’s kid. He had credentials, but were they
Panel
-level credentials? Maybe, but probably not.
 

He had Clive as an ally.
Maybe
. Did he have Alexa, too? Did co-conspiracy make for good allies? Alexa had urged Micah to move quickly against Rachel, but even that, in a way, was a nod of respect to the vanquished.

Beyond Clive, the wall numbers ticked again. Directorate moved to forty-nine. Enterprise, still gaining, moved to forty-eight.
 

“People are talking, Micah. We’re not supposed to go ‘off-Panel,’ but people do it anyway. So far, there’s at least one off-Panel faction, and it contains every member but you.”
 

“That’s ridiculous. I earned my place.”
 

“No, you didn’t. Your track record is terrible, and you’re an idiot if you don’t understand that bad track records this high up get people killed. You need an ally, my friend. You need someone to help with your image because it’s in shitty shape.”
 

Now Micah was getting mad. Who did Clive think he was?
 

Clive raised his left hand then used his right index finger to tick off points in his refined British accent.
 

“Just for starters, you were put in charge of advanced development at Xenia Labs. And what happens? Your man Killian lets a Presque Beau salesman walk right into the restricted area and gives him the grand tour. Then what happens when they try to erase him? He’s got a goddamned shield and spoof under his scalp, and nobody bothers to check. By the time things click into place, he’s already home at Tuco Towers, trying to look up all those things Killian showed him on The Beam.”
 

“Now wait a minute…”
 

“Two,”
Clive said, ticking off his second finger, “your corps send a crew to grab Mr. Stahl, but he easily slips away. Superior training indeed.”
 

“It’s hardly my fault that — ”