Babylon 5 11 - Psi Corps 02 - Deadly Relations - Bester Ascendant (Keyes, Gregory)

by Bester Ascendant (Keyes, Gregory)

  He didnt look at Beys public record, or even search for articles about him in publications. Most of Als life was spent in a whistling gale, frantically struggling to win this contest or pass that test, but his time with Bey was the eye of the storm, a place for long, deep breaths. He didnt want to spoil that by making Bey into another project.

  What he did know was that Sandoval Bey was an important man. He knew that because his office was in the administrative building, because even high officers deferred to him, because he had challenged the director and still had his job. He had once been an executive officer in MetaPolmaybe the chiefbut had retired from the position after only two years, to become station chief of Geneva. He was an instructor at the Major Academy, teaching advanced criminology.

  As station chief, he still wore the MetaPol uniform sometimes internally for certain purposes, but also when a member of the Corps went Blip. That was why he had been called in on Als case. Usually he just directed operations, and it was rare for him to actually take to the field. Al felt most fortunate that he had benefited from one such unusual event.

  Beys father was Turkish, from the hill country, a poor boy who rose to political prominence. His mother had been the British ambassador to Turkey, and they had lived there until he was six, when his father was murdered by a political dissident. Thereafter, Bey had been raised in London, and had spent long summers with a grandfather who lived near Madrid. He had joined Psi Corps as a teenAl really wasnt sure exactly when or under what circumstances. He was a widower, and it was a subject he studiously avoided.

  Today the music was Wagner, the overture to Tristan und Isolde . Brave brass sang out over the storm growl of low strings as Al approached the door. He rapped the heavy wood, wondering what they would discuss. He had just read Hobbes Leviathan and wanted to talk about it, but Bey would most likely surprise him again.

  He did.

  Good morning, Mr. Bester. What does the rest of your day look like?

  I He had a test to study for, an important one, but Bey was dressed in black Psi Cop garb, smiling enigmatically. Ive an open flight plan, sir.

  Good, good. How would you like to accompany me on a hunt? See how it ought to be done?

  I would like that very much, Dr. Bey.

  I thought you might.

  Are we leaving now?

  As soon as we prepare. He handed Al a photograph. This is the runaway.

  Al took the picture, then gave a vague start. It was Fatima Cristoban.

  You know her?

  Sort of. She used to come by and bother me when I was the statue of the day. Put lipstick on me, and such.

  But you arent friends.

  No.

  Bey nodded. Good. Ill leave you to prepare.

  Al looked up, a bit startled. Sir? How do I do that? We havent been taught that.

  Yes you have. I taught you, in fact. You may use my office. Ill be outside when youre done.

  Al watched him go, a bit perplexed, then looked back down at fawn-colored Fatima Cristoban. He remembered her self-satisfied sneer, and the deep uncertainty it hid.

  Why? he silently asked the portrait. Why would you betray the Corps? They offered you everything .

  But he knew part of the answer. After all, he had assembled a biography of her, in his mind. He tried to recall her telepathic signature, impose it upon the photo. He tried to imagine her speaking the anger and fear she felt, her insecurities about the Corps.

  Was this what Bey meant by preparing? To try to remember Cristobans scent, the better to track her?

  Somehow, he thought Bey wanted something more of him than that. He concentrated more deeply on the photo, willing himself to understand Fatima Cristoban, to be able to anticipate her movements. The hunter becoming the prey.

  After a few moments, he closed his eyes in frustration, aware that Bey was outside, aware that he still had not done whatever it was the older man imagined he should have learned by now. Cristoban remained a photograph.

  You have to love those you hunt , Bey had once said. And that recalled something else, something from long ago. When he had played cops and blips with Brett and the rest. When Brett had insisted a Blip could only act in certain ways because they were stupid or evil

  But that wasnt the case. To kids, Blips had no motive: the point of view was always that of the cop, even when you played the Blip. You never really stepped into the Blips shoes. That was why, that day, he had chosen to pretend he was really a Psi Cop being chased, rather than accept the role of a rogue.

  Think of Rashomon.

  As insane as it seemed, Fatima wanted to escape the Corps.

  To understand any of it, he had to look not at her eyes, but through them.

  He turned slowly in Beys office, and his gaze came to rest on something he had always considered odda small mirror in a frame of plain, polished wood. Bey kept a neat appearancehis mustache, in particular, was always elegant and trimmed. But he had never seen the station chief preening in front of that mirror, or even glancing in it. In fact, he couldnt imagine Bey doing so. Bey was not, Al was sure, a vain man.

  But there was the mirror, out of place in the cluttered, scholarly office, hung almost like an icon. He felt a flutter of excitement

  Know your enemy. Love your enemy. Be your enemy.

  He held up the photo so he could see it and his own reflection in the glass. He remembered Fatima again, but this time placed those memories and perceptions into his own reflection. Long ago, he had projected himself onto Brett, to fool the others. Now he projected Fatima Cristoban onto himself. Concentrating. The room beyond the focus of his gaze began to blur. For a long moment he felt as if he were pushing against some flexible but impenetrable membrane, a tension on some surface of the universe he had never imagined existed beforeand then, subtly, he seemed to slip through.

  The image in the glass was no longer his own. It was Fatima Cristobans.

  The Corps is not my mother or my father , she said, defiantly. I have a mother and father. I wont go see them, because thats the first place they will look for me. Im choking here, Im hemmed in. I want a bigger sky. I want things to be as they were before I got my psi. They will be .

  He blinked his eyes, slowly, resting them for a few heartbeats in the dark before returning them to use. He was looking at himself again. But inside, in his head, he felt a sort of compass now, a lode-stone swinging always north.

  And north was Fatima Cristoban.

  Taking a deep breath, he left Beys office and found him outside of the building, smoking a long cigar.

  Im ready, he said.

  Bey studied him through oily curls of smoke.

  So you are, he said, approvingly.

  Al watched the Earth below with fascination. He had never flown before. The helicopter made almost no sound, and it seemed as if they were gliding along, fifty meters or so above the trees. Like flying in a dream.

  We have her as far as Amsterdam, Bey explained. She used a forged identnot a bad job, but not so good that we didnt catch it, after a few hours.

  I dont think Al broke off, not wanting to speak out of turn.

  Mr. Bester?

  I dont think she could have forged an identicard.

  On what do you base that, Mr. Bester?

  I could be wrong. That just wasnt my impression of her.

  Bey stroked his goatee. I tend to agree with you. You think she had an underground railroad connection?

  Al shrugged. Sir, I dont know that much about the underground.

  Well, well be met by other cops and some bloodhounds in Amsterdam, in case things get hairy. My guess is they wontthe resistance is weak these days, and laying low. I think she got the ident from a forger in Geneva and is hoping to find the underground railroad in Amsterdam. Its a city with that sort of reputation.

  Al nodded. They were over countryside now, and it occurred to Al that it was probably some of the same territory he had covered by train not long ago. Then it had seemed somehow overwhelming; now he saw it
as a hawk might, a big place full of small things at his mercy.

  It was a feeling he liked a great deal.

  Mr. Bester, I want to be clear about your position here. You are a student, and an observer. This sort of thing is not usualI usually select advanced students from my class to accompany me, if anyone.

  Im honored, sir, but may I askwhy me?

  Think of it as a reward. Youve pleased me, these past few months. I think youve come a long way. The Corps needs Psi Cops who know what they are doing, not He broke off and twiddled with his mustache, frowning, before continuing. Anyway . I had to pull considerable strings for this. No one thought it was very wise, not after your last little excursion. There are some who will be watching this whole enterprise very closely. I want them to know you are now the levelheaded lad I say you are. Do you think we can convince them of that?

  Yes, sir.

  Good. I chose this hunt because I dont think there will be much danger, but that is never a given, so pay attention to me. If I say go, you go. If I say sit, you sit.

  Understood, sir.

  I also thought you might like to see Amsterdam. You enjoyed Paris, didnt you?

  Well, sir, I was shot and nearly killed, so Im not sure enjoyed would be the best word

  Hah. I scanned you. You were fascinated by Paris, and well you should have been. You will be fascinated by Amsterdam, too. With any luck, we can make time for a brief tour. Educational, of course.

  She was here, Bey said, surveying the dingy little room. Not long ago.

  Al felt it, too, the vague imprint of Cristobans psyche. It didnt belong here, in this narrow space, on that wretched tiny bed. It belonged out somewhere, with a wide sky. He thought back to her file, which he had reviewed on the helicopter ride. She was from Argentina. Was it a spacious place?

  He shook the feeling off. Ever since he had prepared himself with the photograph, it was as if a ghost hung near his shoulders, entering his eyes now and then and rendering them alien. Was it possible that he was actually in touch with the Blip somehow? Sharing her actual thoughts? He asked Bey.

  Bey was still walking slowly around the room, as if surveying each molecule in it. He didnt look at Al.

  I dont know, he replied simply. Telepathy and distance are very strange things. Once, in the Belt, a construction worker went missing. We didnt find him for hours, and when we did it was first with radar and then with a telescope. He was in an EVA suit, twenty miles away, drifting. No response from his comlink, nothing. All of the shuttles were out, but we knew we could rig up a sled in pretty short orderif it was worth it. They asked me if I could tell whether he was alive or dead. He was a little dot in the sky, but once I established line of sight, I had him. I scanned him, and he was alive, though unconscious. Turns out it was attempted murder, but thats a longer story. Twenty miles and clear as a bell. I even got who the would-be killer was from him, then and there. We had him detained before the sled even rescued the castaway.

  On the other hand, Ive been unable to pull surface droughts from someone hiding in a closet ten feet away. He paused. I know they teach line of sight, but I could tell you some stories He looked at Al, finally. It comes down to this: We still dont know exactly how telepathy works. I sometimes wonder if its limitations arent more psychosomatic or perceptual than anything else. Why else should I be able to scan someone twenty miles away, simply because I can see a tiny silver dot?

  So its possible I might have established some link with her?

  I wouldnt count on it. Its more likely closureyour mind putting things together from a number of facts and sensations. Your memory of her signature, the traces of her left in this room, the details you know about herthe Human mind is a strange machine, even without telepathy. The main thing, Mr. Bester, is that it works . Why is usually a fine question to ask, but in this case He stopped, smiling. Have you ever seen the animated vids?

  Yes. I used to like Roadrunner .

  Hmmthe roadrunner was the Blip, right? And the coyote, the PsiCop?

  Yes, sir. The roadrunner was clever, but he always got caught in the end.

  Did he ever run off of a cliff, and not know it? Just hang there in the air until he realized that he wasnt standing on anything?

  Yes, sir. Thats when he would fall.

  Sometimes our abilities are like that. Convince yourself that something shouldnt work, and sometimes it doesnt

  In that case, sir, Id like to tell you something I really shouldnt know.

  Whats that, Mr. Bester?

  Shes out in a park, somewhere, or a field. Someplace open.

  Bey nodded thoughtfully. Well. An intuition. And you may be rightthat may be where she wants to be. Thats very different from knowing where she is.

  Yes, sir.

  Let us suppose she is trying to reach such a place. I assure you, it is not in Amsterdam. What will she need to get there?

  Credits. Her own chit is no good now, and she must know that.

  Exactly. Lets interview the manager.

  Cloe Lyster was a stringy woman in her late forties, with hair like a white tumbleweed. Her beaklike mouth clacked out brief, acerbic answers to their questions. No, of course she didnt know where the girl was. She had checked in the day before, gone out, and hadnt returned. Yes, of course shed run an ident check, but there were problems with the system just now. No, she hadnt required a retina scanshe didnt even have the equipment. Young? Yes, but a million young people came through Amsterdam on holiday. Why should that be suspicious?

  If she was on holiday, why did she ask you about jobs? Bey asked, not looking up from his notebook.

  Lots of kids get part-time She froze, realizing that this was the first mention of jobs thus far. Bey looked at her, a bit archly.

  I know the law, she said, sullenly. You arent allowed to do that.

  Do what? Ask you a question? Madame, of course I am.

  You arent allowed to read my mind.

  I didnt, he said mildly. I guessed, and you obliged by being stupid. Thats at least twice youve been stupid with us, Madame. Once when you lied to us, again when you let me trick you. Please, do not be stupid again. I now have probable cause to do a scan, if I wish. I can have the authority in less than an hour. Have you ever been scanned, Ms. Lyster? I assure you, you wont like it. Personally, Id prefer not to do oneI dont imagine I would like the inside of your mind. He leaned on the antique, polished wood of the counter. Why not just tell me what I want to know? I will find out, one way or the other.

  Lysters eyes seemed to dull, and she reached for a slip of paper and a pen. She wrote down a name and an address.

  Its nothing to do with me, she said, softly. I warn them.

  Bey looked at the scrap for an instant, then back at Lyster. Nothing to do with you? he said, softly. He pulled out his tel-phone and flipped it open.

  This is Bey, he said. I need an elite squad to meet me at the following address, he said, then read the street and building number from the managers note. At least ten bloodhounds. Keep it quiet, but come armed for bear. He paused. Send an ambulance to 21 Lagendijk Street, too. A Ms. Lyster has had some sort of attack.

  He closed the phone. Lyster was backing away, blinking rapidly.

  She turned and tried to run.

  Sir? Al asked, as their car sped through the city. Why did you

  Youll see why I did it soon enough, Bey said, grimly. Dont worry about her. Shell wake up with a headache and have bad dreams for the next six months. Better than she deserves.

  She works with the underground?

  Bey shook his head. Most runaways like Ms. Cristoban dont find the underground. They find people like Saskia Grijs.

  Grijs?

  Yes. Thats who our sweet little old landlady referred Ms. Cristoban to.

  Bey parked on the street, near an ancient-looking three-story building. Lights were flashing in the upper story, and a crowd was gathered on the street, staring upward.

  No! Bey shouted. I told them to wait! He bolted from the car a
nd sped toward the house, PPG in hand, black coat flapping behind him.

  Al sat stunned for a moment, staring up at the flashing lights, before noticing two men in MetaPol uniforms lying facedown in the street

  Bey hadnt told him to stay in the car. Hadnt told him anything.

  In a few heartbeats he was with one of the downed men. He knew in an instant the fellow was dead. It wasnt the gallon or so of blood pooled beneath him, or even the film forming on his wide eyesit was the nothing that was in his mind.

  The other man was dead, too. For a moment Al felt disoriented, as if the whole world had come apart at the atomic level, and then come back together slightly different.

  Dead. This was real. They had been people, and now they werent.

  Above, he could hear weapons conversing. Thats where Bey had gone. Bey, who could be dead, too.

  The dead man was still clutching a PPG. Gingerly, Al took it from his still-warm fingers and slowly, quite slowly, followed Bey up the stairs.

  He continued to pass bodies. One on the stairs, one on the first landing. Outside, sirens were approachingregular police, he imagined. He thumbed the PPG on, found that it was already charged. The man outside must have died shooting, at least.

  The corpse trail led to an open door. Al noticed that the gunfire seemed to have stopped.

  He glanced through, and found himself face-to-face with the muzzle of a PPG.

  Dont! Bey said, from somewhere. Hes with me!

  Als heart was well toward the front of his mouth. The face staring into his was intense, almost mad-lookingbut beneath it was the familiar Psi Corps badge.

  You should be more careful, kid.

  Al nodded vigorously, still not capable of saying anything.

  Bey was across the room. Five other cops had taken up positions. Bodies littered the floor, perhaps fifteen, and only one wore a badge.

  Search the whole thing, Bey snapped. Rip up what you have to. Where is the girl?

  As his eyes adjusted to the darkened room, Al realized that Bey was speaking to a woman, thirtyish. Her platinum hair shone against her dark brown business suit

  I want my lawyer, she said.