“Oh, yeah, sorry. And could you call me Eddie? I get real uncomfortable when people call me doctor.” I nodded. “Anyway, they said you used to be a policeman. So, have you ever killed anybody?”
“Yes.” It was such a small word to encompass so much, but I didn’t amplify.
“Is it hard to do?” Eddie asked. “I mean, would the way I feel about seeing people die affect … I mean, keep me from—”
“Killing someone?” I broke in.
“Yeah. Did it bother you? When you killed them?” Eddie asked.
I stood on the edge of a sea of complex emotions—grief, guilt, pride, excitement. I was afraid I’d drown if I went in. “Yes. Look, Eddie, if you don’t have to kill people, I don’t think you should.”
“But I want them to pay! For what they did … to everybody!”
I laid a hand over the young scientist’s and felt Eddie’s fingers close convulsively over mine. “You figure out how to free Kenntnis. That’s a far better thing to do for the memory of your friends,” I said.
Eddie stood, and his hand slipped free. My hand felt suddenly very cold. “Thanks.” He got almost to the door before he slewed around like a gawky foal and added, “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry I woke you up.” Eddie slipped out of the room.
I pummeled a pillow, trying to get some lift in the feathers. Great, now I was wide awake, and I had to go back up the hill to Congress today. I tried to think about what I had to do, had to say, but disjointed thoughts and memories kept flashing like brief bursts of lightning through my mind. I saw the blood pumping from a throat wound when I’d shot the perp who nearly killed my partner. The bone chips flying when I’d killed Snyder. There was another thought buried deep. I dug it up and looked at it. I wanted to find the men who’d brutalized me, and let a bullet peel back skin and muscle and listen to them scream. But of course I knew where one of them lived. Drew Sandringham was a quick flight up the coast in New York City.
My fantasies shattered when faced with the tangible reality of killing a man I’d known for most of my life. Maybe I wasn’t really a killer. Which should have made me feel good, but instead I felt depressed, as if I didn’t have the grit to do a hard job.
All these thoughts of death had me thinking about morgues, which made me think about Angela. We had been dating back in Albuquerque, trying to see if we could build a relationship. We hadn’t been alone since I’d swept us all off to Washington. She’d suggested a date night, and I’d put her off. Honestly, I’d even felt resentful. She shouldn’t have come; she should have stayed in New Mexico and done her job. Weber needed her. A conversation we’d had about the dead scientists from the Santa Fe Institute came floating to mind. Like a puzzle piece, it snapped into place with the killings in Indonesia.
I came out of bed and made a limping run into the living room. Laptops, their lids gleaming silver, lay on various surfaces like tiles in a giant’s Mahjongg set. I found one open and still running. I logged onto VICAP and typed in scientists and murders.
The list of incidents scrolled by for a long time. And that was just crimes in the United States.
THIRTY-ONE
“What’s been accomplished?”
Grenier looked up from his book at the sound of Richard’s voice approaching down the hallway of the condo.
What emerged into the living room looked more like a flying wedge moving down the field during an Australian rules football game. Richard, walking quickly, was pulling on gloves. Dagmar strode along at his side. Angela, with her short legs, was almost trotting to keep up, and she kept offering Richard a fedora. Tanaka, towering over everyone, looked like a wading stork. Behind him were the judge and Pamela, and bringing up the rear were Rudi and Estevan.
“I’ve blanketed our scientific facilities with security,” Dagmar said.
“And alerted local law enforcement?” Richard asked.
“Alerted and paid off as necessary depending on the part of the world,” Dagmar replied.
“Is it enough? Depending on how badly they’ve been affected by the gates, the guards might turn on our people. And they’re functionally mercenaries. We bought them. Someone else could buy them.” Richard ran a hand through his hair. “Do we need to get our people out?”
“We could charter planes and hire pilots, but where do we take them? And if we remove them from the companies and facilities, we’re going to see a profound drop in productivity and income.”
“Dagmar, scientists are being targeted and killed. I’ve got to protect my people. I can’t worry about money right now. And we’ve got to get the warning out to universities and laboratories everywhere.”
“We’re working on that.”
“Work faster.”
Richard finally took the hat from Angela, but he just held it by the brim and kept turning it in his hands. The physicist saw his moment and pushed Angela aside.
“Richard, I think I have a plausible answer to your question.”
“Which question was that?” Richard looked up from checking his inside breast pocket. “I ask so many people so many questions every day that I end up not remembering anything I said to anybody.” He lifted out a checkbook, looked satisfied, and put it back in the pocket.
“About why the craziness and … magic”—Tanaka stuttered over the word, and Grenier smiled to himself—“hasn’t spread faster and gone more deep.”
“And why is that?”
“Okay, so our universe is a universe of laws and probability. Take an action, you get a reaction and an expected result. And we can reproduce those results time after time after time,” Tanaka said.
“The basic scientific method,” Richard said. They were moving again, the people breaking into discrete streams as they flowed around the furniture. “And by laws you mean like gravity?”
“And relativity, and the first and second laws of thermodynamics, and conservation of energy, yeah, that kind of thing. Of course, down at the quantum level there is an element of chaos in our universe.”
Richard’s expression was both dismayed and frustrated. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Yeah, right, okay, so let’s ignore that for now.”
“Yes, let’s.”
“Anyway, I put together what you told me about how magic violates natural law, and how every magical act tears a hole in the fabric of our reality. Then I talked to Mr. Grenier.” Tanaka nodded to him, and Grenier nodded back. “About how he did magic, and it became pretty clear that the same spell won’t get the same result every time. It might use electricity, but how it manifests can be totally different. So it seems that magic is random and essentially chaotic. Magic is the result of a supreme act of personal will, which makes it antithetical to our multiverse of probability and order.”
“But isn’t magic normal and natural in the other universes?” Richard asked.
“Yes, they have their own laws, however weird they might be, but they’re alien to ours, so our multiverse is pushing back, resisting and to some degree neutralizing the effect of the invaders.”
“So you’re saying it’s a stalemate.”
“No, I don’t think we’re going to be that lucky. I mean, I’m flying blind here, but I ran some calculations and it seems that the continued pressure from these other multiverses bulging into our multiverse will begin to break down our reality. The more magic, the more erosion to our physical laws. The more erosion, the more magic. Eventually … well, I don’t know. Do we just get torn apart and subsumed into these other multiverses? Or do we become a place of functional chaos that’s indigestible to the other multiverses, and we mess them up, too?”
“That strikes me as the very definition of a Pyrrhic victory,”
“So we have to close the gates,” Pamela spoke up, and for an instant the cool facade pulled back and Grenier saw her fear, but Richard reacted to the sharp, hectoring tone.
“Yes, thank you. I have grasped that.”
“What happens to the creatures who’ve come through these gates after we
close them?” Dagmar hurriedly asked.
Richard didn’t sugarcoat it. “They’re here.” The German blanched, and Richard gave a short laugh. “What? You were hoping they would shrivel up and die if they got stranded?”
“I could hope.”
“Nice thought, but wrong. Remember, some of the ones who came through thousands of years ago are still here.”
“So what do we do about them?” Tanaka asked.
“Same thing our distant ancestors did. Hunt them down and kill them,” Richard answered.
The scientist was shaking his head. “We haven’t got any ancient ancestors. What we’ve got is you. You’re gonna have to hunt them down and kill them.” Richard seemed to shrink as if the words had weight.
“And that’s why he needs allies,” said the judge. “You’re due on the Hill in fifteen minutes. “I do hope you’ve prepared what you’re going to say. You can’t skate through this on charm and a smile. I would have gone over your statement if you’d finished it last night.”
The long veiling lashes were quickly lowered, but not before Grenier saw the flash of pure fury in Richard’s eyes.
Yes, yes! Do it. Say it!
But the moment passed, and Richard seemed to become smaller yet as he said, “I should have, sir, but I was making notes at five A.M., I didn’t want to wake you.”
Grenier sighed and threw aside the book, stood, and gripped Robert Oort’s shoulder.
“What?”
“You are such an ass.” Pamela’s inhalation was almost a moan. “My life depends on your son. So I’d appreciate it if you’d cut it … the fuck … out.”
“What are you talking about? It? What does it mean?” Robert demanded.
“Cutting him down, demeaning him, undermining—”
“How dare you, sir!” the judge bellowed and shrugged off Grenier’s hand.
“Stop it! Both of you!” Richard yelled. “Stop talking about me as if I’m not here. That’s pretty damn demeaning, too.” He turned to Rudi. “Is the car at the door?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s go.”
They left, and Robert Oort stepped in close to Grenier. He was tense with fury. “I know the game you’re playing. He is my son.”
“Then fucking act like his father,” Grenier shot back.
The judge spun and walked away. Pamela glared at Grenier. “He’s trying to help Richard.”
“Really? From where I’m standing it looks like he’s working for the other side.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Pamela said, and she also walked away.
“You know, right now I almost like you,” Angela said, and she patted him on the arm.
THIRTY-TWO
RICHARD
“We’ve got to stop meeting this way.” The rolling baritone turned the words into a pronouncement.
I looked up from the report I was reading. Grenier, his bulk swathed in a red-and-black-striped bathrobe, stood in the kitchen door.
“You look like a circus tent,” I said and pushed away my cup of cold tea. The light reflected colors off the oily slick on the surface.
“My, my, feeling pissy tonight, are we?” He waddled in and began pulling out the ingredients for cinnamon toast and hot chocolate. “So, how did it go? Promises of support? Are you off to the White House in the morning?”
“The only sound other than my voice was the rip of paper as I tore out the checks I’d written.”
“You should have used the stick, not the carrot,” the former minister grunted. “‘I’ll throw my not inconsiderable millions behind your opponent in the next race.’”
“Somehow I don’t think we’ve got two years.” I watched my knuckles whiten as I closed my hands into fists. “They are such weasels and cowards.”
“What did you expect? They’re politicians.”
“Aldo was a statesman.” The bittersweet scent of chocolate began to fill the room.
“One of the last. And now he’s dead, and I’m sure many others have received discreetly worded warnings. It’s—”
“What you would have done,” I said before Grenier could get it out.
“Exactly.” He pulled the pan of steaming cocoa off the stove and filled two cups.
I cupped my hands around the warm ceramic sides of the mug, and realized the condo had gotten very cold. I found myself looking at the reflective surfaces of the stainless steel appliances.
“What?” Grenier asked.
I took a sip of cocoa, then stood and drew the sword. I quickly touched every reflective surface in the room.
“Ah, yes, that was probably wise,” Grenier said. I sat back down, and we drank in silence. The toaster gave a loud, annoyed-sounding ding. Grenier moved to the counter and began scraping butter across the bread. “You know your father is going to blame you for the failure to garner any support.”
“Thank you, really what I needed to hear in the dark hours of the night.”
“Yeah, your father is the stuff nightmares are made of.”
“Don’t. I really don’t want to go there.”
“Actually you do. You got mad at him today. I’d go so far as to say furious. You should have followed through.”
I squirmed under the penetrating hazel gaze, and hated myself for the wash of heat through my body, and feeling like a vise was closing around my head as the anger came sweeping back. “He knows my pattern,” I said levelly.
“Thus ensuring you will repeat it. You’re so cowed from constant criticism that you can barely function when you’re around him. My advice is get your father the hell out of here, and start using your not inconsiderable gifts—charm, charisma, and that wry little sense of humor that breaks out at unexpected times. You’re also cunning and conniving, and I bet you could play dirty if you needed to. So stop censoring yourself, watching every word, and weighing every action. Oh, and among your gifts … your handsome face. So use it.”
Beneath my usual writhing desire to elude the praise, the germ of an idea began to coalesce. I grabbed for it, then pulled back mentally, trying to coax it into focus.
“Papa says—”
“I don’t care what Papa says.” Grenier abandoned the toast and moved in on me. “He distrusts beauty. I’m betting he blames her beauty for drawing him to your mother, and they didn’t suit at all, so he rejects the thing that attracted him.”
“You really don’t want to go there after what you did to my mother.”
Something in my eyes sent him skittering in retreat back to the counter. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, then let’s focus on Daddy. Stop being so damn scared that he won’t approve. He’s never going to approve. He doesn’t like you. He never will. Give it up.”
Occasionally in life you hear something that you just sense is true. It happened in that moment, and it hurt more than any blow or any wound I’d ever received. I pushed away the devastating conclusion, and grasped for the memory of what had happened in Grenier’s office when Papa had come to rescue me. He hadn’t actually said he loved me, but he said the answer to my question was yes. What I’d written was I hope someday you’ll love me, too. Saying yes was the same. Wasn’t it?
No. It wasn’t.
Grenier hadn’t been a pastor for almost thirty years for nothing. He saw the hit, and he surprised me by adding softly, “I’m sorry.”
I waved it away. “Doesn’t everybody feel misunderstood by their parents?”
“I think my point was a little stronger than that.”
“Please. Just drop it.” He nodded, and finished thickly powdering the toast with confectioner’s sugar and cinnamon. He returned to the table with the plate, and I took a piece. Butter oozed onto my fingers. “If the monsters don’t get me, heart disease will,” I said.
We then ate in silence for a few minutes. It felt oddly companionable sitting at the table with him after what he had said.
“Rhiana was loitering outside the Capitol today,” I said after I finished off my second slice.
Greni
er set down his fourth piece of toast. “And she did what?”
“Nothing. Just watched me.” I took a sip of cocoa. A skin had formed over the top and tried to affix itself to my upper lip. “You know, she phoned me. To warn me that someone was going to try to kill me.”
“Hmm. And from this you glean … what?”
“Bear with me for a minute. There was this girl in high school who really liked me. Somehow everywhere I went, she’d turn up. She took up fencing. She started swimming.”
“Did you go out with her?”
“Eventually.”
“Did you nail her?”
I gave an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know what that has to do with anything, but yes. Anyway, I think Rhiana’s doing the same thing, because when you get right down to it, she really is just a kid. I also think she’s finding that life in Monsterville isn’t as wonderful as she expected, and …” I coughed as I breathed in powdered sugar. “Bottom line, the crush endures.”
“And you’re going to use that to try to lure her back from the dark side of the Force.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“You’d be stuck with her. It’d be like bedding a cobra. And you’re going to annoy a lot of other women. Probably a few men, too.”
Annoyed, I waved him down. “She comes back. She frees Kenntnis. I don’t see a downside.”
“Just to you.”
“So you’re not in favor of this?”
“I didn’t say that. I just want you to go into this with your eyes open.”
“Believe me, they’re wide open.”
“How are you going to ditch the watchdogs?”
“Enlist one in my desperate need to get laid.” I pushed back my chair, picked up the report, and headed for the door.
“That probably won’t require a lot of acting,” Grenier said, and I felt my ears turning red.
* * *
I picked Estevan. He was the youngest. He was also the horniest and the most romantic. I found him in the room he shared with Joseph, Rudi, and Syd. Everyone else was either on duty or out of the condo. It was Estevan’s sleep period, and he was stripped down to his boxers and starting to lift the covers on the twin bed.
The Edge of Ruin Page 20
