All things considered, Lora seems calm.
At her own request, Jack has placed her in custody in a room she designed, with all four walls and the ceiling part of an electromagnet. She declines any legal representation, but Jack calls Boderin because the situation is unprecedented.
“The information they’re broadcasting must have come from me. I cannot remember it, but my memories around the incident indicate that I should have been there.”
“You were there for the aftermath,” says Jack.
“You have to sequester me,” says Lora.
“Why?”
“Because we don’t know what else is missing, and you’re not qualified to check. The people you might ask to help with such things are no longer working for our side. But that’s not the worst thing.”
“What’s the worst thing?”
“We have no idea what they took out, but we also don’t know if they put anything in. Maybe they’ve slipped in some sub-routines that make me act as an agent for them. Maybe they can get me to kill you. It’s just not a risk you can take, sir.”
She is right, as usual. Jack has been on the phone to the firm, but nobody is taking his calls. He tracks Sola and Morinola, but they do not answer their personal phones. An email arrives with the terms and conditions attached. There is a fucking kiss and a heart at the bottom. Highlighted is a passage that says explicitly that any data uncovered in the process of repair belongs to the company, to do with as they wish, and most importantly, that any evidence of a crime will be turned over to the appropriate authorities.
Does that include the press, assholes?
This weighs heavily on Jack. Both of them are probably out of reach now, but he has murderous thoughts.
Breathe.
Against Boderin’s advice, he takes a call from Femi.
“You have a leak in your kettle,” she says.
“I know.”
“It’s your assistant, Lora.”
“I know. She’s in custody.”
“She’s in custody? Wow, that’s just fine. Why did she do it?”
“The reasons are complicated,” says Jack.
“They always are. And now I’m a fugitive.”
“Maybe you are destined to spend time in prison.”
“Excuse me?”
“You did the deed. Maybe you deserve—”
“Your recollection is faulty, Mr Mayor. Also, you might want to start pondering what accessory to murder means.”
Boderin is up and in Jack’s face. He mouths, Hang up now.
Jack complies. Why not?
“Why did you speak to her?” asks Boderin. “She might have been recording. The woman is dangerous.”
“I know. I know her better than you do, Blessing. What do I do about Lora?”
“You need to find a new assistant.” He touches the screen through which they monitor Lora. “You have to assume they got all the information she has. How much of it is incriminating?”
Jack shrugs. “She’s been with me since the beginning.”
“You’ll have to change access codes and the like,” says Boderin.
“And the like.” Jack eyes Boderin up and down.
“What?” asks the lawyer.
“I need a new assistant,” says Jack.
Boderin looks uncomfortable.
“Do you not want this job?”
“I do, but I should disclose right now, sir, Lora and I were… are lovers.”
“I know this. Will that affect your ability to do the job?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then it’s settled.”
Lora nods. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“You can stay here at the mansion,” says Jack. “I can’t live without you, Lora, you’re my sister.”
“It’ll be different when I don’t assist you professionally, sir,” says Lora. “Best I leave. If I’m here, the risk remains that I’ll spy on you and deliver the information to your enemies. I think a clean break works better. Besides, I want to see the world. I think I’ll do that instead, while the world is still here.”
Jack has gooseflesh, and he feels a tremor coming on, so he steels himself. “Lora.”
“You disagree?”
She trusts him so much. A mistake.
“The thing is, I don’t know if when you’re out there, in Bali or Timbuktu, some… enemy, as you put it, will find you and scour your memories for something to use against me.”
Her eyes narrow and he looks away.
“Lora, I cannot allow you to… wander off. I’m sorry. I feel bad.”
“Sir, you’ve always told me that I’m free to leave whenever I want.”
“That’s true. I have always said that.” Jack stands. “But it turns out that you are not. I’m truly sorry.”
And he is sorry, but he knows the evil he must do, and that involves protecting himself, protecting the office of mayor. Having a witness to a capital crime wandering around creation is not a safe move.
But, fuck.
Fuck.
Jack can’t stand the atmosphere in the mansion. The staff are worried about the impact of the revelation and of the new status of reanimates. The ward counsellors are not keeping the peace and may be in tacit collusion with the protesters. Nobody has quite said it yet, but Jack feels in his bones a wish by the populace to return to Nigeria and get rid of him. This is not paranoia.
As he crosses the courtyard, preceded and succeeded by four bodyguards, he sees her. She’s standing there waiting for him, hands empty, slightly hip-shot posture. The bodyguards begin to show interest, but Jack waves them away.
“You again,” he says. “You have any advice for me? Like the last time?”
“I don’t know who you are any more, Mr Mayor. A lot has changed since your independence. Who am I helping if I tell you anything? The last time I was trying to prevent bloodshed.”
“It didn’t work last time. Blood was still shed. And no matter what you tell me today, blood will still be shed. Who are you?”
“My name is Oyin Da. I’ve been called Bicycle Girl.”
“Ahh. I’ve read briefings about you. Where’s your bicycle?”
“The ironic thing is that I don’t know how to ride one. I never learned.”
“Aren’t you afraid of being taken in? You’re wanted in Nigeria.”
She smiles. “That is… not a concern I have, Mr Mayor.”
“What do you want from me, Oyin Da? I have a lot to do.”
“The real question is what do you want, Mr Mayor. Are you still of one mind with the aliens?”
“Let’s just say I can’t answer that as unequivocally as I might have this time last week.”
“Then you should know that the xenosphere is up and running again. Your chief of security has a weapon that can hurt Koriko. Some of us are working to stop the aliens. Can we count on you to help us?”
“No. But I won’t get in your way. How’s that?”
“Something to work with, I guess.” She turns and walks away.
“Hey, you can see the future, can’t you?” asks Jack.
“A version of it, yes. In parts.”
“Do we win?”
“I don’t know who ‘we’ is.”
“Humans. Rosewater.”
“That’s not the same thing, Mr Mayor,” she says, and keeps walking. “And all I see for Rosewater is flames.”
Jack has a micro-sleep before dawn. He has one of his recurrent dreams, where he is being embalmed and prepared for funeral. He has died from some catastrophic accident or assault, and skilled hands are putting him back together for an open casket. He has no hard feelings about dying, but he yearns to see Hannah one last time. In the dream, he never does. The faceless people finish working on him, place him on a slab and slide him into a refrigerated slot, and he wakes.
A reminder tells him that in spite of all the damage from Koriko’s tantrum, the rescheduled Pride march will take place. He is expected to give a few remarks. He has the speech memorised, even though it’s the last thing he wants to do. But that’s what strong leadership is. He will do what is required. He was bred for this.
But first, he wants to know what leverage there is against the Homians. He calls Aminat and Dahun.
He wants to know how they killed Koriko, and whether they can do it again.
And then he wants a meeting at the Honeycomb.