“In which case,” she said quietly, “I’d have thought you’d see the Xtrasomes as a step forward. For the next generation at least.”
For a moment, he could feel the rolling weight of his own pointless anger, back and forth through his chest cavity like a punching bag left swinging. Images from the past four wasted months flickered jaggedly through his head.
He put a clamp on it.
“I’m a little short on that kind of outlook right now. But let’s stick with Montes, shall we? I’ll bet you this much: she’s got a combat history, at a minimum a combat training history. If it doesn’t show up in the prior record, then she hid it for some reason. She wouldn’t be the first person to wind up in the Angeline Freeport wearing a brand-new identity. Wouldn’t be the first person to marry someone who knows nothing about who she used to be, either, so you’re probably wasting your time talking to the husband.”
“Yeah. Usually the way.”
“How old were the kids?”
“Four and seven.”
“His?”
“I don’t know.” Ertekin reached up and made a gesture that split the virtuality open. She tugged down a data scroll, gently glowing text written on the air like some angelic missive. She paged down with delicate middle-and ring-finger motions while the index finger kept the scroll open. “Yeah. First birth’s Republic-registered, looks like they moved to the Freeport shortly after. Second child was born there.”
“So she’s from the Republic, too.”
“Looks like it, yeah. You think that’s relevant?”
“Might be.” Carl hesitated, trying to put the rest of it into words, the vague intimations he’d had while he watched the replay death of Toni Montes. “There’s something else. The children were the obvious leverage, the reason she let him kill her.”
Ertekin made a gesture of distaste. “Yeah, so you said.”
“Yeah, so the question has to be why did she believe him. He could have killed her and then still waited around and murdered the rest of her family. Why trust him to keep his word?”
“You think a mother put in that situation has a choice? You think—”
“Ertekin, she was making choices all the time. Remember the genetic trace under the nails? This isn’t a civilian we’re talking about, this is a competent woman making a series of very cold, very hard calculations. And one of those calculations was to trust the man who put a bullet through her head. Now, what does that say to you?”
She grimaced. The words came reluctantly.
“That she knew him.”
He nodded. “Yeah. She knew him well. Well enough to know she could trust his word. Now, where does your suburban housewife mother of two part-time real estate saleslady make friends like that?”
He went and sat in one of the hammocks while she thought about it.
CHAPTER 16
Norton was waiting for them when they surfaced.
Sevgi blinked back to local awareness and saw him watching her through the glass panel on the couch cover. It felt a little like staring up at someone from underwater. She thumbed the release catch at her side, propped herself up on her elbows as the hood hinged up.
“Any progress?” Her voice sounded dull in her own ears—hearing thickened with the residual hum of the soundproofing.
Norton nodded. “Yes. Of the slow variety.”
“Do we get to go home?”
“Maybe tonight. Nicholson pulled in Roth and there’s a full-scale diplomatic war in the making.” He crimped a grin. “Roth is demanding a fully armed motorcade escort to Miami International, and fighter cover until we’re out of Republican airspace. Really wants to rub their faces in it.”
“That’s our Andrea.” Sevgi hauled herself off the couch and upright, groggy from the time in virtual and lack of k37. Despite herself, she felt a flicker of warmth for Andrea Walker Roth and the arrayed might of COLIN’s diplomatic muscle. She didn’t really like the woman, not any more than the rest of the policy board; she knew Roth was, like all of them, first and foremost a power broker. But—
But sometimes, Sev, it’s good to have the big battalions standing behind you.
“Yeah, well, my guess is the real pressure’s coming from Ortiz.” Norton gestured at the other couch, where Carl Marsalis was just sitting up. “Secretary general nomination in the wind and all. He’s going to be full of UN-friendly gestures for the next eight months. Luck and a following wind, he could be your boss next year, Marsalis.”
The black man grimaced. “Not my boss. I’m freelance, remember.”
“Fact remains, he’s our best hope of not having to spend another night down here. There’s a lot of COLIN subcontracting in this state. Lot of sensitive business-community leaders who won’t want waves made. That’s the angle Ortiz will play while Roth goes down the wires to Washington.” Norton spread his hands, turned back mostly to Sevgi. “My guess is we’ll wait till nightfall. Just a case of sitting tight.”
Marsalis got up off the couch and winced. He worked one shoulder around in circles.
“Something the matter?” Sevgi asked.
He looked at her for a moment as if gauging the level of genuine concern in her voice. “Yeah. Four months of substandard betamyeline chloride.”
“Ah,” said Norton.
Marsalis flexed his right arm experimentally, a climber’s stretch, palm to nape of neck, elbow up beside his head. He grimaced again. “Don’t suppose you’d have any around?”
Norton shook his head. “It’s unlikely. Human traffic through Perez is down to a minimum these days. Not much call for mesh-related product. Can you hold on until we get to New York?”
“I can hold on pretty much forever. I’d just rather not, if it’s all the same to you. It’s, uh, uncomfortable.”
“We’ll get you some painkillers,” Sevgi promised. “You should have said something last night.”
“It slipped my mind.”
“Look, I’ll check with supplies anyway,” said Norton. “You never know. There might be some mothballed stock.”
“Thank you.” Marsalis glanced between the two COLIN officers, then nodded toward the door of the v-chamber. “I’m going to go for a walk. Be on the beach if you need me.”
Norton waited until he was gone.
“Excuse me? If we need him? Is it just me or is he the one who needs something from us right now?”
Sevgi held down an unexpected smile. “He’s a thirteen, Tom. What are you going to do?”
“Well, not look very hard for his betamyeline is what comes immediately to mind.”
“He did say thank you.”
“Yeah.” Norton nodded reluctantly. “He did.”
He hesitated, and Sevgi could almost hear what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. She found herself, suddenly, inexplicably saying it for him. “Ethan, right?”
“Look, I know you don’t like to—”
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter, Tom. I. You know, maybe I’m way too sensitive around certain topics. Maybe it’s time. Right? You were going to ask about Ethan? If he was like this?”
Small pause. “Was he?”
She sighed, testing the seals on her self-control. Breath a little shuddery, but otherwise fuck it, Sev, it’s four years gone, you need to…
To what? Need what?
You need…something, Sev. Some fucking thing, you need.
Sigh again. Gesture at the door Marsalis just walked out of.
“Ethan was a different man, Tom. Ethan wasn’t his gene code, he wasn’t just a jazzed-up area thirteen and a custom-wired limbic system. He—”
Another helpless gesture.
“Do I see similarities? Yeah. Did Ethan have the same hey-cut-my-fucking-throat-see-if-I-care attitude? Yeah. Did Ethan make any normal male in the room itch up the way Marsalis is making you itch up? Yeah. Does that—”