He was staring over at me. Waiting for a reply. What would I do? If somebody threatened me like that, they would die. I’d rip them apart. Either as they spoke, or days or months or years later. I would hunt them down and rip them apart. But Hubble couldn’t do that. He had a family. Three hostages waiting to be taken. Three hostages already taken. Taken as soon as the threat was made.
`What should I do?’ he asked me again.
I felt pressure. I had to say something. And my forehead hurt. It was bruising up after the massive impact with the Red Boy’s face. I stepped to the bars and glanced down the row of cells. Leaned against the end of the bunk. Thought for a moment. Came up with the only possible answer. But not the answer Hubble wanted to hear.
`Nothing you can do,’ I said. `You’ve been told to keep your mouth shut, so you keep it shut. Don’t tell anybody what’s going on. Ever.’
He looked down at his feet. Dropped his head into his hands. Gave a moan of abject misery. Like he was crushed with disappointment.
`I’ve got to talk to somebody,’ he said. `I’ve got to get out of this. I mean it, I’ve got to get out. I’ve got to talk to somebody.’
I shook my head at him.
`You can’t do that,’ I said. `They’ve told you to say nothing, so you say nothing. That way you stay alive. You and your family.’
He looked up. Shuddered.
`Something very big is going on,’ he said. `I’ve got to stop it if I can.’
I shook my head again. If something very big was going on around people who used threats like that, then he was never going to stop it. He was on board, and he was going to stay on board. I smiled a bleak smile at him and shook my head for the third time. He nodded like he understood. Like he finally accepted the situation. He went back to rocking and staring at the wall. His eyes were open. Red and naked without the gold rims. He sat silently for a long time.
I couldn’t understand the confession. He should have kept his mouth shut. He should have denied any involvement with the dead guy. Should have said he had no idea why his phone number was written down in the guy’s shoe. Should have said he had no idea what Pluribus was. Then he could have just gone home.
`Hubble?’ I said. `Why did you confess?’
He looked up. Waited a long moment before replying.
`I can’t answer that,’ he said. `I’d be telling you more than I should.’
`I already know more than I should,’ I said. `Finlay asked about the dead guy and Pluribus and you flipped. So I know there’s a link between you and the dead guy and whatever Pluribus is.’
He gazed at me. Looking vague.
`Is Finlay that black detective?’ he said.
`Yes,’ I said. `Finlay. Chief of detectives.’
`He’s new,’ Hubble said. `Never seen him before. It was always Gray. He was there years, since I was a kid. There’s only one detective, you know, don’t know why they say chief of detectives when there’s only one. There’s only eight people in the whole police department. Chief Morrison, he’s been there years, then the desk man, four uniformed men, a woman, and the detective, Gray. Only now it’s Finlay. The new man. Black guy, the first we’ve ever had. Gray killed himself, you know. Hung himself from a rafter in his garage. February, I think.’
I let him ramble on. Prison conversation. It passes the time. That’s what it’s for. Hubble was good at it. But I still wanted him to answer my question. My forehead hurt and I wanted to bathe it with cold water. I wanted to walk around for a while. I wanted to eat. I wanted coffee. I waited without listening as Hubble rambled through the municipal history of Margrave. Suddenly he stopped.
`What were you asking me?’ he said.
`Why did you confess to killing the guy?’ I repeated.
He looked around. Then he looked straight at me.