"Undoubtedly." Bonnell shot him a sharp glance at the irony. Tachyon gazed innocently back.
"Rather than attempt to run this gauntlet with weapons of our own, we will use those already provided. You and Blaise will mind control as many guards as possible and have them rake the platform with automatic weapons fire. It should have the desired result."
"Interesting, but what can you possibly gain by this?"
"The destruction of France's ruling elite will throw the country into chaos. When that occurs, I won't need your esoteric powers. Guns and bombs will suffice. Sometimes the simplest things are often the best."
"What a philosopher you are. Perhaps you should set yourself up as a guide to the young."
"I already have. I'm Blaise's beloved Uncle Claude."
"Well, this has of course been instructional, but I very much regret that I must refuse."
"Not surprising. I had anticipated this. But consider, Doctor, I hold your grandson."
"You won't harm him, he's too precious to you."
"True. But my threat is not of death. If you refuse to accommodate me in this, I will be forced to have certain very unpleasant things done to you, being careful to ensure that you live. I will then disappear with Blaise. You might find it somewhat difficult to trace us when you are a bedridden cripple."
He smiled in satisfaction at the look of horror on Tachyon's face. "Jean will escort you to your room now. There you can reflect upon my offer and, I'm certain, see your way clear to help me."
"I doubt it," gritted Tachyon, regaining command of his voice, but it was hollow bravado, and Bonnell undoubtedly knew it.
The "room" turned out to be the very cold and dank basement of the house. Hours later Blaise arrived with his dinner.
"I have come to visit with you," he announced, and Tach sighed, again admiring and regretting Bonnell's cunning. The joker had obviously made a careful study of Tachyon, his attitudes and culture.
He ate while Blaise, chin resting in his cupped hands, gazed thoughtfully at him.
Tach set aside his fork. "You are very silent. I thought we were going to visit."
"I don't know what to say to you. It's very strange."
"What is?"
"Finding out about you. Now I'm not so special anymore, which bothers me, but it's also good to know…" He considered.
"That you're not alone," suggested Tach gently. "Yes, that's it."
"Why do you help them?"
"Because they are right. The old institutions must fall."
"But people have died."
"Yes," he agreed sunnily. "Doesn't that bother you?"
"Oh, no. They were bourgeois capitalist pigs and deserved to die. Sometimes killing is the only way."
"A very Takisian attitude."
"You will help us, won't you? It will be fun."
"Fun!"
It's his upbringing, Tach consoled himself. Endow any child with this kind of unsupervised power and they would react the same.
They talked. Tachyon pieced together a picture of unfettered freedom, virtually no formal schooling, the excitement of playing hide-and-seek with the authorities. More chilling was the realization that Blaise did not withdraw from his victims when they died. Rather he rode through the terror and pain of their final moment.
There will be time to correct this, he promised himself. "So will you help?" Blaise asked, hopping down from the chair. "Uncle Claude said to be sure and ask you." Seconds stretched into minutes as he considered. The noble course would be to tell Bonnell to go to hell. He considered Bonnell's gently worded threats and shuddered. He had been bred and trained to seize the opportunity, to turn defeat into victory. He would trust to that. Surely they could not guard him as closely at the rally.
"Tell Claude that I will help." An exuberant hug.
Alone, Tachyon continued to reflect. He did have one other advantage. Jack… who would surely realize something had gone terribly wrong and alert the Sfirete. But his hope was founded on a man whose weakness was well known tohim, and his fears on a man who, despite his civilized exterior, possessed no humanity.
Coming up on twenty-four hours since the little bastard had disappeared. Jack swung at the wall, pulled the punch just in time. Knocking out a wall at the Ritz wasn't going to help.
Was Tachyon in trouble?
Despite his promise, had he gone off with Bonnell? And did that necessarily mean trouble? Was it possible he was merely playing hooky with his grandkid?
If he was out visiting the zoo or whatever and Jack alerted the Sfirete, and they found out about Blaise, Tachyon would never forgive him. It would be another betrayal. Maybe his last one. The Takisian would find a way to get even this time.
But if he's really in trouble?
A knock pulled him from his distracted thoughts. One of Hartmann's interchangeable aides stood in the hall.
"Mr. Braun, the senator would like to invite you to join him at the debate tomorrow"
"Debate? What debate?"
"All one thousand and eleven"-a condescending little laugh-"or however many candidates there are in this crazy race, will be taking part in a round-robin debate in the Luxembourg Gardens. The senator would like as many of the tour as possible to be there. To show support for this great European democracy-such as it is. Mr. Braun… are you all right?"
"Fine, yeah, I'm fine. You tell the senator I'll be there."
"And Doctor Tachyon? The senator's very concerned by his continued absence."
"I think I can safely promise the senator that the doctor will be there too."
Closing the door, Jack quickly crossed to the phone and put in a call for Rochambeau. A probable terrorist attack on the candidates. No need to mention the child. Just an urgent need to call out the troops.
And a long night of praying he had guessed correctly. That he had made the right choice.
He should be sleeping, preparing mind and body for the morrow. His life and the future of his line depended upon his skill and speed and cunning.
And on Jack Braun. Ironic that.
If Jack had drawn the correct conclusion. If he had alerted the Sfirete. If there were sufficient officers. If Tachyon could stretch his talent beyond all limits and hold an unheard of number of minds.
He sat up on the rickety cot and hugged his stomach. Sank back and tried to relax. But it was a night for memories. Faces out of the past. Blythe, David, Earl, Dani.
I'm gambling my life and the life of my grandchild on the man who destroyed Blythe. Lovely.
But the possibility of dying can act as a spur for selfexamination. Force a person to strip away the comforting, insulating little lies that buffer one from their most private guilts and regrets.
"Then give me those names!"
"All right… all right."
The power-lancing out fragmenting her mind… her mind… her mind.
But they wouldn't have known but for Jack. And she wouldn't have absorbed their minds but for Holmes, and she wouldn't have been there but for the paranoia of a nation.
And no one would suffer had they not been born, thought Tach, quoting a favorite adage of his father's. Sometime one must stop excusing, accept responsibility for actions taken.
Tisianne brunt Ts'ara, Jack Braun didn't destroy Blythe, you did.
He flinched, prepared for it to hurt. Instead he felt better. Lighter, freer, at peace for the first time in so many, many years. He began to laugh, was not surprised when it turned to quiet tears.
They lasted for some time. When the storm ended, he lay back, exhausted but calm. Ready for tomorrow. After which he would return home and make a home and raise his child. Calmly and a little regretfully he turned his back on the past.
He was Tisianne brant Ts'ara sek Halima sek Ragnar sek Omian, a prince of the House Ilkazam, and tomorrow his enemies would learn to their pain and regret what it meant to stand against him.