Chapter Twenty-Three
Eventually I shut off the water and mustered the will to climb out of the shower, leaving the corpses behind, and stumbled to the office.
Forge sat on the desk, the lights from its display throwing off faint glows of red and green. Soaking wet, I dropped into my chair and stared at the cursed device.
I wanted to smash it, break it into bits until it resembled Pamela’s decoy, but I held back my fury. Collecting my thoughts, I leaned toward it.
“Forge, how much longer to create enough additional reagent to—” My voice cracked and I choked on a sob. “Enough reagent to dispose of Pamela’s corpse as well?”
“671 seconds.”
“Start production.”
“You are not authorized for that process.”
I shot to my feet, sending the chair hurtling back into the office wall.
“I fucking authorized it already, just increase the amount, damn it!”
Forge’s voice remained steady, without any trace of emotion.
“You were never authorized for that process. You inquired as to production times without attempting to engage actual production.”
If Forge had been a person I would have called it passive-aggressive because it followed this with a verbatim replay of our earlier conversation.
“Forge, who made you?”
“You are not authorized for that information.”
“Who are the Tans?”
“Specify, the colloquial term is not known.”
I quickly explained what I meant and Forge just as quickly informed me that information was also restricted. I wasted 15 or 20 minutes trying to get answers. Bits and pieces of projects started by Eddie or Pamela I could learn about, but its history, construction, and purpose were forbidden. I gave in to frustration and rage, throwing office equipment about until my chair shattered the window and crashed to the lobby floor.
Exhausted and spent, I collapsed onto the sofa. I didn’t cry; I had no more tears. Emotionally I passed through the rage and the fear into a suffocating depression.
The reagent didn’t matter. Even if I dissolved the bodies and washed them down the drains enough forensic evidence clung indelibly to the theater. Security would have no trouble proving not one but several murders happened there, and I was guilty of at least one of them. With the decadence, the conspiracies, the violence, and the murders, no amount of bargaining would save me from exile and death.
Forge sat on the desk, implacably obstinate and unwilling to help. Now that my anger had passed I understood there was no way out. No manipulation of the records, no scrubbing of the theater could save me. Soon, all too soon, someone would come looking and that would be the end of me and everything I had ever wanted.
I stood and walked to the lobby window and stared through the shattered glass at the bloodstained and debris-littered floor. Three weeks earlier Pamela had walked through those doors, dressed to seduce, pausing under my window, and I had bit at the bait. She might be dead but her hook was still set firmly in my jaw.
My gaze followed the trail of bloodstains from the sofa to the stair and I remembered something Terrance had said.
“You know we can get you out of here. You know that!”
He had been certain and Eddie agreed that even with a history of drugs, prostitution, and murder the Tans still had an out for him, a way that kept Eddie free.
“I am not authorized to know how to contact Hardgrave, am I, Forge?”
“You are not.”
“But you can. You can contact him and set up a secure conference.”
“I can.”
“Do it.”
As Forge connected to Hardgrave I stepped into the office’s tiny washroom. The face peering back at me from the mirror was suited only for horror films. Along one side ugly black and red burns marred my skin, my nose was swollen and covered with dried blood, and my eyes possessed a haunted, empty stare. I turned on the water, but just stood there, staring at the unrecognizable man. The pain, fiery hot and cutting all the way to my skull, returned. I wanted to lie down and let it all pass.
Screw Hardgrave. Let him see what I’ve really been through.
As I stepped into the office the main screen filled with Hardgrave’s cool, collected, and tan face.
I hated him.
“Mr. Kessler,” he said, condescension and disgust mixing in his voice. “I hadn’t expected to hear any more from you.”
“No one’s getting what they expected.”
“The result of irrational and disordered minds.”
“I want your help.”
“I’m not inclined to give it unless you return Vulcan’s Forge.”
“I might do that.”
His eyes gleamed. He might have played at cool detachment but his greed was as strong as anyone’s.
“But I have some conditions.”
He shook his head.
“No. We do not bargain with –” I think he almost said ‘Ferals’, but checked himself, “– criminals, particularly violent ones. I take it you have murdered your business partner?”
My mind flew to Pamela, but then I realized he still meant Eddie.
“Eddie never was my partner. You’ve been duped.”
I snorted, an involuntary expression that sent pain tearing through my nose and blood flowing down my chest. I turned away, tore fabric free from my wet and stained coverall, and cleaned off my nose. When I faced Hardgrave again his smug expression had returned.
“I don’t see why you continue to deny—”
“Because it’s not fucking true!” I slammed one hand down on the desk, but I had the good sense to make sure it wasn’t my busted one. “I was set up. From the very beginning I was set the fuck up to take the blame for everything, and I am not going to do it.”
I stormed over to the main screen and continued. “You’re not getting Forge back until I get what I want. You will explain not only how you’re going to get me to some sort of sanctuary, but you will also tell me who and what the hell you people are.”
“That’s never going to happen, Kessler.”
“It fucking will happen! Terrance said you could make everything okay for Eddie. After everything that man did, after all the crimes he committed, he said you people could fix it. Well, Eddie’s dead so you’re going to fix it for me.”
“Let me speak with Nataya or Terrance.”
“Not even Forge can do that.”
His expression darkened and his eyes narrowed.
He turned angry when I said, “They’re dead. Eddie killed them.”
I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt a lot of people.
“Everyone here is dead so you’re going to have to deal with me.”
He said nothing for several long beats, his skin flushed even through that strange complexion. Then after taking several controlled breaths he spoke.
“Surrender Forge. If Forge verifies your innocence then perhaps we can help, but that’s the only offer you’re getting, Feral.”
The connection broke and I stared at a black screen.
* * *
Beyond anger and beyond frustration, I simply walked away from the display. Turning my mind to practical matters, I stripped off the torn, wet, and bloodstained coveralls. I nearly walked to the shower, but stopped. I hadn’t reached that level of numbness. I threw the soiled garment in the recycler, which was more trace evidence for Security, and fabricated a proper set of clothes. In a pique of vanity I selected a nice suit and dressed myself to the nines, topping it off with a smart black fedora.
Dry, dressed, and looking more presentable, though nothing short of a doctor could do anything about the ugly burns and my wrecked nose, I returned to the office and Forge. Poking around in the commands and processes answered a few more questions. Eddie hadn’t been a mental giant and Pamela, while cunning and manipulative, proved to be only marginally smarter. Of course the ultimate irony was that I was fairly certain she rated several points over me.
On her return she had hacked the theater, so anything that went on while she was still present wouldn’t be reported to the Administration. Nothing was deleted either. Once she left Forge would retroactively alter the records and before long Security would arrive, finding my corpse and all the evidence of the criminal empire Eddie and I ran. Of course, now Pamela was never going to leave, but eventually someone would come. I had foiled her plan but I had no escape.
Hardgrave’s flat refusal made it seem certain he thought I wouldn’t destroy Forge, and though I briefly considered it, he was right. The Tans needed Forge and I needed the Tans and their magical box.
I glanced down at the lobby, remembering Pamela as she had walked from one-sheet to one-sheet. The Samson and Delilah poster caught my eye. The artist had drawn Samson as a giant of a man, chains shattering under his strength as he snapped columns and demolished the temple, when his death became victory.
No rational solution presented itself, so it was time for an irrational one. I needed to take advantage of Hardgrave’s fears about my erratic psychological state. I smiled. Maybe Hardgrave was right about me, because win or lose, live or die, all results looked equally favorable.
Working with Forge and the theater’s fabricators it didn’t take long to put together everything I needed. I had Forge skip over clandestine printing. I would be long gone by the time Security discovered the fabricator had produced explosives. The monitors and dead man’s switches required careful wording, but in the end Forge fabricated them as well. I confirmed that the flyer was still on the beach and undiscovered. That had been Pamela’s doing, making sure Security didn’t start after me too soon, but now it worked in my favor. After making sure Forge monitored everything, I packed it in a freshly fabricated travel bag. I called for a car and left my office for the final time.
Outside the summoned car waited for me and I paused at its door, looking back at the theater. In the last few hours four people had been murdered. Not all were good people, not all were bad people, and I didn’t know what to feel. Visions of Pamela dead and under the water floated to mind, and with tears streaming from my eyes I climbed into the car and left.
* * *
The flyer lifted from the beach into the skies darkened by Companion’s eclipse, and a powerful sense of déjà vu swept through me. Though before I had left from the flight center with Wolf watching, my destination was the same and its echoes reverberated in my memories.
Nocturnia’s lights vanished behind the hills as the flyer sped north. Forge, wrapped in several pounds of freshly fabricated explosives, sat on the seat behind me. Just a few days earlier being so close to a potential explosion would have turned my nerves to jelly, but now it hardly mattered. I didn’t bother with a low-profile flight. Let Hardgrave know I was coming; it wouldn’t change a damned thing. I’d have my answers, I’d have my escape, or I’d burn everyone.
I activated the flyer’s communications, no doubt triggering an alert on some Security console, and signaled Brandon. Instead of sending my call to his message system he surprised me by answering.
“Jason.” His tone was distant and noncommittal.
“Brandon, don’t go to the theater. Call Security, have them go, but you stay away.”
His face softened, taking on a sad ‘what have you done?’ expression. “What’s happened?”
“Trust me.” The irony of that plea struck hard, but I pushed on. “If you go you’ll have nightmares.”
“Jason—”
“They’re going to say a lot of things about me. Some of them are going to be true but most will be lies.”
“You’re not turning yourself in.”
“No, it’s far too late for that.”
“It’s never too late to do the right thing, Jason. Don’t let her talk you into more stupidity.”
I suppressed a nervous titter. “She won’t, that much is certain.”
“She’s done it so far. I mean it, that woman’s been nothing but bad news for you. Cut her loose and turn yourself in.”
“I can’t.”
“What is it that she’s—”
“Pamela’s dead.”
He stopped mid-sentence and stared at me.
“There’s too much to tell, and I’m not ready to relive it, not yet, maybe not ever. Trust me and stay away from the theater.”
He silently nodded.
“There’s more than just her there. It’s—” I hesitated, unable to find the words. “I can’t say what it is, but this is all coming to a head. I’m on my way to Hardgrave.”
“Why?”
“He has a way out and he’s going to give it to me whether he wants to or not. When he does I’ll vanish, and if he doesn’t I go over the wall. Either way I’ll never see you again.”
“Jason, come back, turn yourself in. There is always mercy.”
He continued pleading and arguing with me, but my attention turned to Forge. I was a murderer, and an accomplice to several more murders.
“It won’t work,” I said, interrupting his rambling argument. “This is the end, one way or another, and I’m going on my terms.”
“You were always a selfish bastard.”
I nodded, “Yeah, that’s probably true, but….” I hesitated and then plunged on. “I am sorry for the hurt I’ve caused, tell Seiko I did love her, but I was too stupid and too weak.”
“She knows.”
“Tell her anyway. Goodbye, Brandon.”