A Tale Of The Continuing Time - The Last Dancer Part 48

It's at least part of the reason Moreau is here; he brought a group of the Secretary General's webdancers up with him, and they're checking, and rechecking, and triple checking the Relay Stations informational integrity."

"So," I said slowly, "in order to prevent the PKF from declaring martial law at Halfway, we're going to bring the circus to town."

Marc said evenly, "Yes."

"That's the silliest thing I ever heard in my life."

"It's the truth, Neil."

"That's the only reason I believe it."

- 5 -.

His bodyguards were the best Credit could buy; currently with Security Services, one was ex-s.p.a.ce Force, the other ex-PKF David had told them both before they boarded the semiballistic to San Diego that, if necessary, they were to give their lives in protecting his.

They agreed with him, of course. People did.

Still the deal made him nervous. That a pimp who had made it big in the Johnny Rebs wanted to see him made very little sense. The reasons the Old Ones in New York had given him-that Obodi was considering dosing the Reb troops with electric ecstasy before sending them into battle-did not convince him. If he'd been prepared for a war with New York David would have refused to go; but he did not have the manpower for war, and New York had made it clear that those were the stakes.

It made himvery nervous.

He hadn't run wire in six years, and his own use of the wire was well enough known that n.o.body was going to seek his opinion on the subject. With one possible exception, the scenario made no sense.

David didn't like to think about the exception.

On the semiballistic he plugged in the wire and turned it on, with the current low, for half an hour. He turned it off before they landed in San Diego, and he felt calm and confident and strong.

Two of Obodi's troopers met him at the downport in a limo with blackened windows. David touched them as lightly as he was able; they both knew Obodi slightly, knew that David was expected. No more than that. He told them to give their weapons to his bodyguards. They did; he had them get in the front seat, and got in back with his bodyguards.

The limo took them into downtown San Diego. The windows were supposed to be darkened; David instructed his guards to set them for one-way; if anyone was watching the car from outside, it would look as though Obodi's instructions were being followed. David was not impressed with San Diego; it looked like a New York suburb. h.e.l.l, it looked like a Jersey suburb.

Except cleaner.

The limousine came down atop a smallish white building, thirty or forty stories, at the edge of a large open plaza. The building sat facing the huge, gleaming blue stretch of the Pacific Ocean; even in the midst of his juice-induced calm, David found time to admire the sight of the sun's reflection, on a mildly windy day, dancing from the tops of a million small waves.

Before leaving the vehicle he checked his handheld; they sat atop the Latham Building, at the western edge of the city. David flipped his handheld shut, stowed it, and turned on his Personal Protection System. He felt the sheath armor go ever so slightly rigid beneath his suit; not enough to cause difficulty in moving, just enough to feel it. The targeting holocams were buried in his earrings. Lasers were tucked away in his watch and two of his rings. If his heart stopped, his handheld would explode, and take everyone within a square block with him.

Half a dozen men in nondescript suits awaited him at the edge of the roof. One came forward.

Anthony Angelo was a small, wiry man with black hair.Ex-Speedfreak, dedicated Reb; knew Obodi only to work with, had no idea why David was there. David noticed, without making a.s.sumptions one way or another, that he had yet to meet any of Obodi's personal a.s.sociates.

The man stopped a few steps in front of David, said, unsmiling, "Mister Zanini?" It amused David to be addressed with the American honorific; virtually every Johnny Reb he'd ever met had done that, as though renouncing the truncated French honorifics in use throughout the System were some Reb badge of members.h.i.+p.

"Are you expecting someone else?"

"No, sir. Please follow me. You'll leave your bodyguards here."

"I'll leave my bodyguards here," David agreed, "except they'll come with me."

A brief struggle crossed Angelo's features, was gone. "Yes, sir. That'll be fine. Please follow me."

They kept him waiting, in a lounge with a wet bar, for most of an hour. David had his ex-s.p.a.ce Force bodyguard make iced tea with the supplies at the bar, and after the bodyguard had sipped at the tea, drank some of it himself.

When someone finally came for him, it was Angelo again. "Mister Obodi will see you now."

"How charming of him."

The boardroom where Obodi received him was large enough for thirty people. It was stripped empty and it was obvious that its contents had been removed only recently. David could see scars in the rug where the huge conference table had recently been.

Two men were waiting for him. One was a soldier, somewhere in his fifties. David barely glanced at the man; Obodi stood motionless in the very center of all the empty s.p.a.ce, watching David approach. He was a tall, thin man in a bright red robe, with an aquiline nose, high cheeks, blond hair and pale, piercing blue eyes.Very good biosculpture, David thought to himself. Obodi's voice was soft, gently penetrating.

"You were not to bring your bodyguards with you. How was this allowed?"

David said mildly, "n.o.body mentioned it to me."

Obodi said just as quietly, "I gave the orders myself. I a.s.sure you they were not forgotten. How did it happen, do you suppose, that they were not implemented?"

"Beats the h.e.l.l out of me. Maybe you need better people. Listen, 'Sieur Obodi, a lot of important people told me I should come visit you, seeing how you invited me and all. Show respect, they told me." David smiled at Obodi. "I'm showing respect. What the f.u.c.k do you want from me?"

Obodi returned David's smile. "What is your name, boy?"

"Boy?"David took a step forward, his bodyguards moving out to flank him. David studied Obodi speculatively, calmly, the remnants of the session with the wire damping out any traces of fear. He reached - -flicker of fire, of intimatetouch- And warm fog enveloped him, soothed him, charmed him with gentle rea.s.surances- David jerked back into himself.

Obodi said again, "What is your name, boy?"

David stared at the Reb leader, suddenly completely uncertain of himself, distantly aware that it must be showing. What wasthat? "David," he said with a suddenly thick tongue. "David Zanini."

"'That is your full name?"

His adrenal gland, abused and lied to by the wire, suddenly kicked into gear. Abruptly his heart was pounding as though it would burst in his chest, and David could not draw enough breath. The old soldier in the corner of the room suddenly jumped into focus- -Elite,the man was a f.u.c.king bra.s.s b.a.l.l.s PeaceforcerElite. The Elite stared grimly at David. Staring back at the Elite, David snapped, "What the f.u.c.k is this bra.s.s b.a.l.l.s doing here?"

"You are an Italian?"

David's bodyguards, at his silent command, spread farther away from him, one keying on Obodi, the other on the Elite. "Yeah, what of it?" The Elite-the man's granite face tickled a memory somewhere deep inside, one of his father's friends had been- "You look," said Obodi quietly, "remarkably like a man who died in 2062. A man-" The sudden surge of terror raised up in David like a tidal wave, and he felt the lethal hot air tingling on his skin, and a slow smile stretched across Obodi's features. "-a man named Castanaveras."

David Castanaveras had no idea what he was doing, only that his life was endangered and that he must protect himself.

The doors behind him blew themselves out of their frame. As the sonic stunners cut in, an invisible hand picked Obodi up and threw him across the room like a doll. A wash of flame exploded outward from the spot where David Castanaveras stood, sent a burning wash of superheated air across the room like a maser set at wide dispersion. The heat washed across Chris Summers, set his clothes afire.

Gi'Suei'Obodi'Sedon struck the far wall rolled into a ball, dropped to the ground stunned, and lay there motionless.

Christian J. Summers, ex-Peaceforcer Elite, stood still after the wash of the flame had pa.s.sed by, and watched the room's stunners play over the son of the best friend he had ever had. The two bodyguards, both of them to the external eye in better shape than their employer, fell within seconds. The deep radar scan Castanaveras had walked through on his way into the building showed a PPS with body armor, but the body armor would not be protecting him from the sonics; this was simple endurance. Sedon sat up, then came back to his feet, and Chris Summers walked slowly forward, stood only a few meters away, at the edge of the sonics, stood so close his teeth ached, watching as, long after his bodyguards had fallen, David Castanaveras struggled to keep his feet. Summers watched the genie stagger back and forth, the sonics following him, cras.h.i.+ng into the walls, going down and then pus.h.i.+ng his way up again.

The ruby laser in the cyborg's right fist was lit and pointed at the floor. His clothing burned in places, but he was utterly unaware of it. Abruptly a laser lashed forward from the watch the genie wore; Chris Summers turned his head aside, and lifted an arm to cover his optics. In a moment the laser ceased, and a moment later David Castanaveras fell, and did not get up again.

Summers let the stunners run a while longer, long enough that he feared risking neural damage in all three of the men on the floor, and then shut them off. He turned to Sedon, standing well back, watching the tableau. "How are you?"

"I shall live. What happened?"

Summers said without any irony at all, "You scared him."

Sedon shook his head slightly, came forward. His eyes would not focus immediately. His ears rang and he would have a knot on his skull and a bruise on his ribs where he had hit the wall. "How very dangerous these children are. You recognize him, Christian?"

Chris Summers said slowly, "The girl doesn't look very much like her mother, Jany McConnell. Same green eyes, but she's had biosculpture. And David-the blue eyes throw me." His features were the expressionless mask of a PKF Elite; yet his voice was heavy. "But I'd know him anywhere. That's his father's face. It's like looking at Carl come back from the dead."

"Good," Sedon said absently. He knelt slowly next to the young man's still form, traced a finger across David's cheek, and then looked up at Chris Summers abruptly. His smile was slow and dazzling. "You live in an age of wonders, Christian."

"If you say so."

"I do. And I have seen things to compare."

David Castanaveras awoke to happiness.

Darkness enveloped him.

He could not move.

His inability to move did not bother him. He floated blissfully in the utter darkness, distantly aware of the existence of the world, very pleased indeed that someone had gone to the trouble of turning on his wire, of sending the juice down into his pleasure center.

At first the voice was distant and quiet, easy to ignore.h.e.l.lo, David. h.e.l.lo, my friend. But the voice grew louder, and the wire got turned down at the same time. With mild curiosity David let the words penetrate.

We are going to be great friends, David Castanaveras.A long pause, and then the voice said, gently, persuasively,The very best of friends. What you want, I want for you. A shorter pause, and the voice said with simple conviction,I love you.

- 6 -.

The prisoner sat strapped into a chair, in the middle of a hospital room Denice had not been in before, not during Jimmy's bout with the medbots, or hers.

The man was thin, wiry, with curly black hair and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. He was naked to the waist, with electrodes covering him everywhere. A full-sensory InfoNet terminal covered his skull.

An intravenous drip was attached at his right inner elbow.

The prisoner's right hand ended at the wrist.

Francis Xavier Chandler sat across the room from the prisoner, a blanket over his lap, in the floatchair he'd been confined to since yesterday's a.s.sa.s.sination attempt. Chandler's right hand, like the prisoner's, was gone. There was some question that he would ever walk again. "His name is Anthony Angelo. Tony.

Used to be a Speedfreak, when there were such things. He's worked for me for near thirty years now.

I've known him since he was a baby. I employed both of his parents and one of his grandparents."

Chandler sat silently for just a moment. "He's one of the few people in the System I'd have trusted with my life," he whispered finally. "And did. He's been one of my inside men with the Johnny Rebs since '63, ever since the Speedfreak Rebellion got crushed. When he said he needed to see me, I didn't think twice.

Had him escorted straight to me. Even so, he got scanned twice on the way up; they outfitted him with a beauty. Ceramic slivers in his fingers, about the same slowscan signature as human bone. I was reaching to shake his hand... his hand just exploded. Two of the projectiles got me. Nanoviruses all over them-"

Chandler gestured around himself. "If it hadn't happened right inside one of the finest emergency medical facilities off Earth, I'd be dead today instead of paralyzed. As it is I'll still have to go to Mars to get my hand regrown; my med facilities won't handle a regrowth. I'm still fighting one of the nanoviruses; pesky thing keeps trying to turn my blood to acid, they haven't quite got it neutralized."

Denice sat with Robert and looked at the drooling idiot in the chair. "You drained him."

Chandler's features were pale. "I knew he'd been brainwashed. Iknew it."

"Except that he hadn't," Robert said mildly.

Chandler was silent a long moment. "Apparently not. He kept saying that he'd simply realized that there was a higher loyalty than the loyalty he'd once had to me. If that's really all it was-" Chandler's voice trailed off, and Denice thought he was not going to speak again, when Chandler said simply, "I have to know."

Denice looked back and forth between Chandler and Robert. Robert said quietly, "You owe him this much."

Denice closed her eyes and reached, Touched-Became.

She sat motionlessly, eyes closed, for five minutes that stretched to ten, and then to fifteen. When twenty minutes had pa.s.sed, and Robert was considering disturbing her, she finally opened her eyes.

They were wet with tears.

Robert said softly, "What is it?"

"When I was nine-" She had to struggle with the words, force them out. "When I was nine I was raped. During the first month of the Troubles. And I thought it was the worst thing that any person could ever do to another." She spoke through a throat made tight with pain, through a gathering cloud of tears.

She held herself, hugged herself tightly, and found herself wis.h.i.+ng, in some distant part of herself, that she could see Callia Sierran again. "What they did to him is worse."

Chandler leaned forward in his floatchair. The knuckles of the hand gripping the floatchair had gone completely white. "What did they do?"

"They turned him into a thing he would have died before becoming. And he knew it the whole time." She looked at them. "David did it."

Chandler said stupidly, "Who?"

"David did this. David Castanaveras. My twin is with them."

- 7 -.

They sat next to one another on the semiballistic to j.a.pan.

David Castanaveras sat two seats behind them, in restraints, with the juice pouring down into his pleasure center at its highest setting. They would leave him that way until they reached j.a.pan.

It was an uncomfortable thing to be near; at odd moments Chris Summers found himself possessed by a sudden, disturbingly complete euphoria. Even Sedon was not unaffected; his lips twitched incessantly, and once he chuckled aloud for no reason.

The cyborg's cheeks ached. His skin, stiff enough to turn a knife, fought against the muscles that kept his lips stretched in the rictus of a grin.

A report came in over Chris Summers's earphone; after a pause, he smiled and said, "Chandler is apparently still alive."

"Alas."

"I told you those nanoviruses wouldn't work. He sits up there in that d.a.m.n floating hospital and-"

"The point was not that Chandler die. Whether he lives or dies is a small matter."

Summers nodded. What mattered was that David's work had been shown to be reliable. He started to say something, then cut it off in a fit of abrupt giggles.

"Abide, Christian. It will end shortly."

Summers spoke through snorts of laughter. "We should have-left him-in San Diego."