Clockwork Asylum

by Jak Koke

  As she knelt, fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. They weren't tears of fear or self-pity, they were tears of sorrow. "I'm sorry," she whispered to her memory of the music, to the light. "Because of me, you have suffered, and I can't bear to let it continue."

  Just as she started to relax her stance, and felt the tip penetrate her skin, the heavy door at her back swung inward.

  No!

  She tried to throw herself on the blade, but found herself frozen in place.

  Lucero waited there, her blood dripping down the knife's edge, and could see him out of the corner of her eye. His dark hand reached beneath her chin and lifted her head.

  The knife fell free and dropped to the bed.

  His narrow dark eyes held a glint of amusement, and with his free hand, he stroked his thin beard. "My child, you have borne so much. But it is time. You are healed enough for you to return. Body and soul."

  Oscuro smiled, and suddenly her heart was glad. She couldn't understand what she'd been thinking. How could she be so selfish as to try and take her own life when there was so much work to be done?

  Oscuro helped her to her feet and cleaned the blood off her scarred body with a damp towel. He smiled all the while, and never said a word about how he had found her.

  She realized then that he had expected her attempt at self-sacrifice. That he had perhaps orchestrated it. Now, the foul part of her soul, which had spread to engulf her, was retreating to a small core.

  "You are the balance, my child," he said. "The crux, and I hold you very dear."

  She found herself admiring him even more, liking the way the dim light cast its shadow over his sharp features. He dressed her in a robe of white linen, and then stood before her holding out his hand. Beckoning for her to join him.

  They walked from the room, and as they headed for the altar, Lucero wondered if perhaps Oscuro had planned the whole ordeal. She wondered if maybe he knew that the spot on her soul had become so dark during her blood orgy that she would be unable to return to the bridge. So he had planned her little attempt at redemption just to further his own designs.

  She wondered just which thoughts in her head were her own and which had been placed there by Oscuro. Then there was no more time for wondering because they had entered the altar room, and it was time for her to return.

  Like her master had said, there was so much work to be done.

  31

  Ryan sat next to Nadja in the Draco Foundation Mitsubishi Nightsky as they drove past the front of the Watergate Hotel. The area was surrounded by a huge crowd of people—tourists, mourners, media hounds, and even worshippers who considered Dunkelzahn a martyred saint. The blast crater was a massive hole in the center of the boulevard, blocked off by five-meter-tall hurricane fencing and protected by federal security agents.

  Above the crater hovered a prismatic cloud that glowed with energy. It writhed and morphed, roiling like an undulating droplet of oil on water, sending out a rainbow of light that was visible even in the middle of the afternoon.

  Ryan knew that the fabric of physical space had been torn away here. When Dunkelzahn had died in the explosion, the barrier to astral space had been eliminated.

  The limo continued its slow and arduous way, through the crowd and up the circle drive to the hotel doors. What a mess, thought Ryan. As gala events go, the intimate gathering at the hotel was a news coverage nightmare.

  When the tridsnoops had found out that all press was barred from the gathering, they began spouting about freedom of the press. When that didn't get anywhere, they tried to infiltrate the private luncheon as everything from security personnel to wait staff.

  Unfortunately for them, Carla Brooks was in rare form. She seemed to be everywhere at once, personally checking the staff and going over every detail with her hand-picked security squad. She was ruthless in weeding out anyone who didn't belong, and even snoops she'd worked with before, people who thought they might have some pull with her, found themselves shut out.

  Jane-in-the-box had quashed three attempts by deckers to pirate the security-camera feed, sending some artistically nasty bits of IC back along the line to fry the runners as a warning. By one o'clock, the word was out. This party was off limits. If the news services were going to get anything, they would have to wait on the steps of the hotel like everyone else and take whatever prepared statements the party's attendants were willing to give.

  Needless to say, this slotted off more than one self-important investigative news team, and the mood out in front of the hotel was getting ugly by the time Ryan and Nadja rolled up to the front door in the Draco Foundation Mitsubishi Nightsky.

  Ryan stepped out first, immediately flanked by several of Carla's security personnel. Ryan caught sight of Matthews standing guard up near the double glass doors of the entrance. The old man gave him a secret grin.

  Ryan never thought his disguise—complete with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and three glued-on datajacks on his temple—would fool anyone who knew him personally, but he still didn't like having his picture taken.

  The slight changes were enough to make a bystander pass over him without a glance, however.

  To the tridsnoops lining the carpet that rolled up to the door, he was just another Draco Foundation heavy, guarding Miss Daviar. He wore a simple black tuxedo that fit him in a way that didn't let him pack any heavy hardware. The only concessions he'd made were the Walther PB-100 pistol strapped to his right calf and a miniature camera hidden in the third fake datajack. He was on a remote feed, straight to Jane, who would be monitoring him at all times.

  As Ryan forcefully cleared a small space on the sidewalk, Nadja stepped out behind him. He could almost hear the collective gasp of the people back home watching. She had pulled out all the stops today. Dressed in a ruby red gown flown in from Paris, she was adorned at the neck and wrist with flowing strands of natural pearls.

  The gleaming white beads tumbled between her breasts, casting a glow over her flesh that seemed almost translucent in the harsh lights of the camera crews. Her raven hair flowed down the bare part of her upper back, and as she moved, it seemed to caress her skin like a lover.

  As Ryan stood amid the flashing glare of the cameras, Nadja stopped and spoke briefly with the reporters. She laughed at some questions one of them asked, and her brilliant white teeth flashed.

  Oh-so-tridogenic, thought Ryan. It's no wonder the country's in love with her. He smiled. It's no wonder I'm in love with her.

  "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" she responded to the reporter. "If my country needs my services, I'll be more than happy to accept this nomination. However, if a more suitable candidate is found, I will give my full support."

  She got misty-eyed, right on cue, her voice taking on a lilting, hypnotic tone. "Dunkelzahn would have wanted the vice president to be the best person for the job, someone who could do the most good for the country. Right now, I just feel honored that the citizens, and President Haeffner, think I might be right for the job."

  A din of shouts followed this last comment, but Nadja simply held up her hand, and all went quiet. "No more questions, please. I'll hold a formal press conference tomorrow, but now is not the time for making statements."

  With that, she swept through the double glass doors, following closely on Ryan's heels, leaving a strangely subdued crowd behind her. As Ryan stepped past Matthews, he could hear the old man whisper, "Frag, she's good."

  Ryan smiled and gave him a wink.

  They entered the hotel and waited for the security detail to clear an elevator. Then they were up to the penthouse suite. Ryan dropped the bodyguard role and drew up alongside Nadja as they walked.

  The penthouse suite was as beautiful as it was cozy, providing a stunning view of the downtown cluster and the Potomac. A full bar provided refreshment, and the pool sparkled with reflected sun on the patio. Small tables, surrounded by comfortable chairs, had been carefully positioned so that intimate groups could congregate and talk with a relative
feeling of privacy.

  Damien Knight was already there when Ryan and Nadja made their entrance. As were President Haeffner and many members of Congress, all accompanied by their respective security entourages. One or two people in this room had had dealings with the infamous Quicksilver in the past, and Ryan was pleased by the sense of discomfort he felt flutter through the room as Nadja took his arm in intimate fashion.

  She made whispering sounds in his ear, and on cue, he laughed softly. All their moves had been worked out beforehand, and like a veteran team, they executed them flawlessly.

  They made a beautiful couple, and Ryan was acutely aware of the impact they had when together. In fact, he was counting on it.

  With a kiss on his cheek, Nadja excused herself and began to mingle.

  Ryan stepped up to the bar that was being tended by a big ork. To Ryan, the gnarled face screamed Secret Service, but that was to be expected. He hoped the poor man knew how to mix a drink, or everyone else would know just how thorough Brooks had been.

  "What can I get you, sir?"

  Ryan smiled. He hadn't allowed himself a drink in over a year. There had been too much to do, with no time for relaxation or the risk of being caught off guard. He didn't really enjoy the effects of alcohol, but over the years he'd learned how to appreciate the taste. Now, the situation demanded that he seem casual and relaxed, and he didn't mind what he had to do.

  "Double Remy, heated."

  He watched the big man gracefully pour scalding water into the crystal snifter, to warm the glass. Then he drained the water and poured in a generous amount of the amber liquid. Ryan took it and raised the glass to his nose, suddenly aware of someone standing directly behind him.

  He didn't turn, but merely inhaled the heady scent of his drink, savoring the rich smell. He took a sip of the hot cognac, letting it steep down his throat.

  "A fine brandy, if you like that kind of thing."

  Just a bit a head of schedule, Ryan thought, recognizing the voice.

  He turned, feigning surprise, and noticed that Knight had left his aide, Gerrold Watkins, with the rest of the Ares contingent. So this little conversation is going to be off the record.

  "Mr. Knight," Ryan said. "I'm sorry, you've caught me enjoying one of my secret vices." He grinned, and Damien Knight's return smile was well-practiced enough to seem genuine.

  "Oh, Mister Mercury, we all have our little secrets, don't we?"

  Ryan shrugged. "You appreciate a fine cognac, Mr. Knight?"

  Knight's smile softened. "Actually, about a year or so back, I stumbled onto a hidden reserve of a brandy called Germain Robin. They stopped production sometime around the turn of the century. Twenty-five bottles of the closest thing to heaven on this planet. You should stop by some evening. We'll pop one."

  Ryan forced a wide smile. "That would be wonderful. I happen to have some fat Honduras cigars that go so well with a good brandy."

  Damien frowned. "Actually, if you have a few minutes, I'd like to talk to you."

  Come to me, you little fly. Come, step into my web.

  Ryan kept his face neutral, hiding his relief.

  "Of course. Would you like to sit?"

  It had been a calculated risk, showing up here and displaying his and Nadja's relationship so openly. However, the idea had occurred to Ryan because he knew that the only way to get anything from Knight was to make the man come to him.

  Under normal circumstances, Knight would have kept half the room between himself and Ryan. A snake doesn't slither too close to the mongoose unless it wishes to do battle. Or, unless the viper thinks it's fast enough to kill the mongoose with one quick strike.

  Ryan knew Knight wasn't here to kill, he was here to do a little dance, to try and hypnotize the mongoose. Knight wanted to use Ryan. For someone so dangerous, Knight, you're refreshingly predictable.

  Damien led him to one of the small, unoccupied tables. Ryan noticed how several people shifted to get out of their way. Some of them were frightened by Knight, and the others knew just a bit too much about Ryan Mercury to feel safe without some distance.

  They sat, and Ryan took another sip of his cognac. "What can I do for you, Mister Knight?"

  Knight propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "I'm surprised to see you here, Mercury. Especially coming as Miss Daviar's escort. Don't you realize you could cost her the nomination?"

  Ryan smiled. "Well, I'm not so sure she really wants it anyway. She's got so much on her hands right now, the VP would only add to a schedule that's already over-full."

  Knight sat back, and his expression grew thoughtful. "You know, I've always had a difficult time reading you."

  Here it comes, thought Ryan. Draw me in, then cut me off at the knees.

  "What's to read? Nadja's busy, and might not even have the time for this whole political gig. Dunkelzahn left her to stir quite a few pots, so to speak."

  Knight's smile was tight. "Yes, he did. That doesn't seem like it would leave much time for a romantic life, does it?"

  Ryan shrugged. "We both have tight schedules, but that just makes the time we have together that much more special."

  Knight looked as if he were going to be ill.

  "Yes, I can see how it would. However, with such limited time in the day, I could see where Nadja might be unable to give her attention to some of the finer details."

  Ryan gave him a questioning look. "I'm not sure I follow?"

  Damien smiled like a shark. "Well, she's been left quite a few different positions to fill. Not a problem for a dragon, but somewhat overwhelming for a simple metahuman, wouldn't you agree?"

  Ryan followed his lead. "Oh, yes. In fact, she and I were just talking about all the company stock she now has to vote. She's not even that familiar with the workings of quite a few of them. I mean, she's got a pretty good hang on stuff like the Gavilan stock, but other things are a bit esoteric."

  And the fly lands, thought Ryan, watching Knight's eyes light up.

  "Exactly," Knight said. "In fact, I have a meeting with her in about half an hour to discuss that particular stock."

  "Really, I was unaware."

  Knight said nothing and for just a moment Ryan thought he might have been a bit heavy-handed. Knight leaned back, and his face went still.

  Knight seemed to be thinking hard, and Ryan could see when he reached a decision. "Ryan, just between you and me, I'm worried about Miss Daviar. Especially in relation to her dealings with Gavilan. There's so much political back-stabbing going on there right now that I'm afraid it might be a bit much for her."

  Ryan leaned forward, doing his best impersonation of a little kid being told a secret. "Really? I guess that's not so surprising after what happened to Dunkelzahn."

  Knight nodded, playing his fatherly role to the hilt. "You know, I just thought of something. In my meeting with Daviar, I'm going to suggest that she give me temporary proxy rights to Gavilan. Just until she comes to know who all the main players are and where they stand. That way, she won't do anything she might regret later."

  Ryan smiled. "That's very kind of you."

  Knight's face turned conspiratorial again. "However, you, better than anyone, should know how strong-willed she is. I'm just afraid she'll misinterpret my offer. I would hate for her to refuse me, then kick herself for it later."

  "How can I help?"

  Knight actually leaned over and patted his arm. "Just talk to her. I'm sure she trusts you, and if you give her a gentle nudge in the right direction, we might just be able to avoid a big mess."

  Ryan smiled. "You got it. I'll do anything for her."

  Knight smiled and stretched out his hand. "It was a pleasure talking to you."

  Ryan took the offered hand, but didn't release it. He let his face turn thoughtful. "You know, I heard your name come up in conversation the other day."

  Knight, realizing he wasn't going to get his hand back, sat. His smile faded, replaced by a cautious look. "Oh, really? In what context?"


  Ryan grinned and turned loose of Knight's hand. "Oh, I think it was an ex-employee of yours."

  Knight's grin was thin, strained. "Someone you 'helped' relocate?"

  Ryan shook his head. "No, no, no. It was someone you worked with before my time."

  Knight's thin smile turned positively painful. "I hope this person had good things to say."

  Ryan's smile grew predatory. "Oh, good and bad. She said you had some secrets, but she also said you were good in the sack."

  It was a shot in the dark—something in Alice's tone when she'd talked about "David"—and Ryan was pleased with the results.

  Knight turned white. "Her name?"

  Ryan tapped his forefinger on his chin. "Let me see, I think it was . .. Alice. Yes, that's it. It was Alice Haeffner. Quite a nice lady, actually."

  Knight looked as if someone had kicked the wind out him. "You spoke to her?"

  Ryan's smile softened. "Yes. Seems she'd been speaking to another old friend of yours, a Thomas Roxborough. They have some pretty interesting views of your relationship with my former employer."

  Knight was actually shaking. "Mister Mercury, thank you for the conversation, but I do have other people to talk to. If you'll excuse me."

  As he was standing, Ryan dropped the bomb. "It seems that both Alice and Roxborough think you might have blamed Dunkelzahn for the Crash. That maybe you've held a grudge for more than two decades, and that possibly, just possibly, you might have finally gotten your revenge."

  It was just a simple tick of the eye, but from someone as professional as Knight it was like a signed confession.

  Without another word, Knight left the table.

  Ryan took another sip of his cognac, which had gone lukewarm. He turned and found Nadja's eyes on him. He blinked, slowly, their prearranged signal, and stood.

  It took Ryan almost twenty minutes to extract himself from the gathering and make it to the back stairwell. Then he was past security and out the fire door.