Forever Peace Part 28

Cameron craned around in time to see her glide through the revolving door. Good G.o.d, you're right.

Jefferson took the camera upstairs and called Ray, who, along with Mendez, was coordinating things in Marty's absence.

Ray was at the Clinic. He downloaded the pictures of her and studied them. No problem. We'll keep an eye out for her.

Less than a minute later, she walked into the Clinic. The metal detectors didn't catch either of her weapons.

But she didn't pull out a picture of Amelia and ask whether anyone had seen her; Gavrila knew that Amelia had been in this building, and a.s.sumed it was enemy territory.

She told the receptionist she wanted to talk about a jack installation, but she refused to talk to anyone but the top man.

Dr. Spencer's in surgery, she said. It will be at least two hours, maybe three. There are plenty of other people- I'll wait. Gavrila sat down on a couch with a clear view of the entrance.

In another room, Dr. Spencer joined Ray looking at a monitor watching the woman watching the entrance.

They say she's dangerous, Ray said; some sort of spy or a.s.sa.s.sin. She's looking for Blaze.

I don't want any trouble with your government. Did I say she was government? If she was official, wouldn't she produce credentials? Not if she was an a.s.sa.s.sin.

The government doesn't have a.s.sa.s.sins!

Oh, really. Do you also believe in your Santa Claus?

I mean, no, not for us. There's a crackpot religious group that's after Marty and his people. She's either one of them or she was hired by them. He explained about her suspicious activity at the hotel.

Spencer stared at her image. I believe you are correct. I have studied thousands of faces. Hers is Scandinavian, not Mexican. She probably has dyed her blond hair-or no, she's wearing a wig. But what do you expect me to do about her?

I don't suppose you could just lock her up and throw away the key.

Please. This is not the United States.

Well... I want to talk to her. But she may be really dangerous.

She has no knife or gun. That would have registered as she walked through the door.

Hm. Don't suppose I could borrow a guy with a gun to watch over her while we talked?

As I said- 'This is not the United States.' What about that old hombre downstairs with the machine gun?

He does not work for me. He works for the garage. How dangerous could this woman be, if she has no weapon?

More dangerous than me. My education was sadly neglected in the mayhem category. Do you at least have a room where I could talk to her and have somebody watching, in case she decides to tear off my head and beat me to death with it?

That's not difficult. Take her to room 1. He aimed a remote and clicked. The screen showed an interview room. It's a special room for seguridad. Take her in there and I will watch. For ten or fifteen minutes; then I will ask someone else to watch.

These ultimodiadores - you call them Enders - is that what this is all about?

There's a relation.

But they are harmless. Silly people, and what, blaspheming? But harmless, except to their own souls.

Not these, Dr. Spencer. If we could jack, you'd understand how scared I am of her. For Spencer's protection, no one who knew the whole plan could jack with him two-way. He accepted the condition as typical American paranoia.

I have a male nurse who is very fat... no, very large-and who knows, who grasps, a black belt in karate. He will be watching along with me.

No. By the time he got down the stairs, she could kill me.

Spencer nodded and thought. I'll put him in the room next door, with a beeper. He held up the remote and pushed a b.u.t.ton. Like now. This will call him.

Ray excused himself and went to the bathroom, where he was unable to do anything but catalogue his weapons: a key ring and a Swiss Army knife. Back in the observation room he met Lalo, who had arms the size of Ray's thighs. He spoke no English and moved with the nervous delicacy of a man who knows how easily things break. They walked downstairs together. Lalo slipped into room 2, and Ray went into the lobby.

Madame? She looked up at him, targeting. I'm Dr. Spencer. And you?

Jane Smith. Can we go someplace and talk?

He led her to room 1, which was larger than it had seemed in the camera. He motioned her to the couch and pulled over a chair. He straddled it, the chair back a protective shield between them.

How may I help you?

You have a patient named Blaze Harding. Professor Blaze Harding. It is absolutely imperative that I speak to her.

286.

In the first place, we don't give out the names of our clients. In the second place, our clients don't always give us their real names. Ms. Smith.

Who are you, really?

What?

My sources said Dr. Spencer was Mexican. I never met a Mexican with a Boston accent.

I a.s.sure you that I am- No. She reached into her waistband and pulled out a pistol apparently made of gla.s.s. I don't have time for this. Her face became grim, set; totally mad. You are going to quietly take me from room to room until we find Professor Harding.

Ray paused. And if she's not here?

Then we'll go to a quiet place where I will cut your fingers off, one by one, until you tell me where she is.

Lalo eased the door open and swung in with a large black pistol coming up to aim. She gave him an annoyed look and shot him once in the eye. The gla.s.s pistol was almost completely silent.

He dropped the gun and fell to one knee, both hands over his face. He began a girlish keening but her second shot sheared off the top of his head. He toppled forward silently in a flood of blood and brain and cerebrospinal fluid.

Her tone of voice was unchanged: earnest and flat. You see, the only way you're going to live to see the night is to cooperate with me.

Ray was struck dumb, staring at the corpse.

Get up. Let's go.

I... I don't think she's here.

Then where- She was interrupted by the rattling sound of metal shutters rolling down over the door and window.

Ray heard a faint hissing sound, and remembered Marty's story about the interrogation room at St. Bart's. Maybe they had the same architect.

She evidently didn't hear it-too many hours on the firing range-but she looked around and did see the television camera, like a stub of pencil pointed at them from an upper corner of the room. She jerked him around to face the camera and put the pistol to his head. You have three seconds to open that door, or I kill him. Two.

Senora Smith! A voice came from everywhere. To open that door, it requires a, el gato ... a jack. It will take two minutes, or three.

You have two minutes. She looked at her watch. Starting now.

Ray slumped and suddenly collapsed, rolling out on his back. His head hit the floor with a solid whack.

She made a disgusted noise. Coward. Then a few seconds later, she herself staggered, and then sat down hard on the floor. Wavering, she held the pistol with both hands and shot Ray in the chest four times.

MY PLACE IN THE BOQ had two rooms-a bedroom and an office, a gray cubicle with just enough room for a cooler, two hard chairs, and a small table in front of a simple comm console.

On the table, a gla.s.s of wine and my last meal: a gray pill. I had a yellow legal tablet and a pen, but couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't obvious.

The phone rang. I let it go three times, and said h.e.l.lo.

It was Jefferson-my psychiatric nemesis, come to save me in the eleventh hour. The instant he hangs up, I resolved, I'm taking the pill.

But like the room and the pill, Jefferson was gray, more gray than black. I hadn't seen anybody that color since my mother had called to tell me Aunt Franci had died. What's wrong? I said.

Ray's dead. He was killed by an a.s.sa.s.sin they sent after Blaze.

'They'? The Hammer of G.o.d? The wavering silver bar at the top of the screen meant the encryptation was working; we could say anything.

"We a.s.sume she's one of them. Spencer's drilling her out now for a jack.

How do you know she was after Amelia?

She had her picture; was nosing around the hotel here-Julian, she killed Ray just for the h.e.l.l of it, after she'd killed another man. She walked right through the security screen at the clinic, with a gun and a knife of some plastic. We're scared s.h.i.tless that she's not here alone.

G.o.d. They tracked us to Mexico?

"Can you get up here? Blaze needs your protection - we all need you!

I actually felt my jaw drop. You need me to come up and be a soldier? All those professional snipers and convicted murderers.

SPENCER UNPLUGGED HIS JACK and walked to the window. He raised the blinds and squinted at the rising sun, yawning. He turned to the woman who was bound to a wheelchair with locked restraints.

Senora, he said, you are crazy nuts.

Jefferson had unjacked a minute before. That would be my professional opinion, too.

What you've done is completely illegal and immoral, she said. Violating a person's soul.

Gavrila, Jefferson said, if you have a soul, I couldn't find it in there.

She jerked at her bonds and the wheelchair rocked toward him.

She does have a point, though, he said to Spencer.

We can't very well turn her over to the police.

I will, as you Americans say, keep her under observation indefinitely. Once she's well, she's free to go. He scratched the stubble on his chin. At least until the middle of September. You believe that, too?

I can't do the math. But Julian and Blaze can, and they don't have any doubts.

It's the Hammer of G.o.d coming down, Gavrila said. Nothing you can do will stop it.

Oh, shut up. Can we put her someplace?

I have what you would call a 'rubber room.' No lunatic has ever escaped from it. He went to the intercom and arranged for a man named Luis to take her there.

He sat down and looked at her. Poor Lalo; poor Ray. They didn't suspect what a monster you were.

Of course not. Men just see me as a receptacle for their l.u.s.t. Why should they fear a c.u.n.t?

You're going to find out a lot about that, Jefferson said.

Go ahead and threaten me. I'm not afraid of rape.

This is more intimate than rape. We're going to introduce you to some friends. If you do have a soul, they'll find it.

She didn't say anything. She knew what he meant; she knew about the Twenty from being jacked with him. For the first time, she looked a little frightened.

There was a knock on the door, but it wasn't Luis. Julian, Jefferson said, and gestured. Here she is.

Julian studied her. She's the same woman we saw in the monitor at St. Bart's? Hard to believe. She was staring at him with an odd expression. What?

She recognizes you, Jefferson said. When Ingram tried to kidnap Blaze off the train, you followed them. She thought you were with Ingram.

Julian walked over to her. Take a good look. I want you to dream about me.

I'm so frightened, she said.

You came here to kill my lover, and instead killed an old friend. And another man. They say you didn't blink. He reached slowly toward her. She tried to dodge, but he grabbed her throat.

Julian...

Oh, don't worry. The wheels on the chair were locked. He pushed slowly on her throat and she tipped back. He held her at the balance point. You're going to find everyone here so nice. They just want to help you. He let go, and the wheelchair fell over with a jarring crash. She grunted.

I'm not one of them, though. He got down on his hands and knees, his face directly over hers. I'm not nice, and I don't want to help you.

That's not going to work with her, Julian.

It's not for her. It's for me. She tried to spit at him, but missed. He stood up and casually flipped the wheelchair into an upright position.