Exile to Hell

The drumming in his head receded, the pain faded and Kane opened his eyes. He locked gazes with Brigid. The room seemed to tilt around him, his fingers flexed, the tendons in his wrist tightened

She smiled at him, and it transformed her face. It wasn’t an empty smile, forced there by fear or tension. It was a smile of openness and honesty, of happiness at finding someone who shared her innate curiosity, of taking a delight in uncovering the unknown, of finding someone with whom she could be herself.

His thoughts fought through the fog of alcohol and paranoia and focused on one fact you brought her into this, you drunken lout. You take responsibility for bringing her out.

As if from far away, he heard himself say, “Okay. Fine.”

Numbly he took the disk from her hand. Their fingers brushed momentarily, her touch a soft caress, yet electric at the same time.

“If I find anything important,” she went on, “I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. Fine.”

With the bitter certainty that he would probably live just long enough to regret saying “Okay, fine”, he turned and left her apartment. The promenade was empty, and for some reason, it seemed much smaller, much more confining than it had an hour before.

Magistrate Psychometric Report G-1268, Code. Grant, born 2160, Cobaltville. Awarded Active Badge of Duty, 2177. Cited 2178, 2186, 2194, meritorious service.

Courageous but not reckless. Has strong curb on emotions. Suggestibility low. Attitude scales show high stability. Strong candidate for administrative transfer. Action pending.

Salvo leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the open file. The Intel section was very quiet, and its dim lighting always helped him to relax and concentrate. Morales and the rest of the duty staff studiously avoided looking in his direction.

Salvo glanced down at the file again. The psychometric report supplied only the public image. There wasn’t even a passing reference to Grant’s capacity for friendship and loyalty, and that was the crucial element. There was no point in cross-indexing the material with Kane’s own file. Salvo already knew Kane was at the extreme limit of the permitted range in a number of behavioral areas. The psychometric reading didn’t fully reveal these.

Suggestibility low.

If that was the case, then Kane would have never been able to persuade Grant to forestall serving the termination warrant on Milton Reeth. Obviously Grant trusted Kane. More importantly, Kane trusted Grant, and very deeply.

Morales announced, “Here you are, sir.”

Salvo got up and padded quietly to the vid monitor Morales indicated. On the screen, he watched Kane walk down the stoop of an apartment and, hands in his pocket, shuffle along the promenade. He moved slowly, not with his characteristic catlike stride.

“Who lives there?” he asked.

Morales consulted a sheet of printout. “A midgrade senior archivist. Brigid Baptiste. She has a ‘Q’ clearance.”

Salvo’s lips pursed. “Never heard of the bitch.”

Morales shrugged, as if to say “Me, either.”

“Why was he there?” Salvo muttered. “If he wanted her to take a look at the disk, then he should have ordered her to examine it during the duty shift. That way his ass was covered. Hers, too. This is very uncharacteristic of Kane. Sloppy.”

Morales coughed discreetly. “Shall we put her under surveillance, as well, sir?”

“Of course,” Salvo snapped. “And tomorrow, while she’s at her post, I want you to search her home.”

“Me, sir?”

“Yes, you sir.”

“Search her home for what?”

“For anything,” Salvo growled.

The corners of Morales’s eyes crinkled in puzzlement. “What if I can’t find anything?”

Salvo fixed his dark liquid stare on the man. He said nothing.

Morales ducked his head quickly. “I’ll find something.”

Chapter Ten

Kane dreamed in choppy fragments, none of which made any sense. A humid darkness swathed most of his mind in sweaty, ebony folds. Only infrequently came brief flares of light and cogent thought. The lights took on the appearance of facesfaces that somehow resembled his mother, his grandfather and father all at the same time. He had an inchoate, faraway awareness that he’d promised to do something for those facesor was it one face?but he couldn’t remember what.

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