"Vodka-and-orange," Ari said. "Thank you, Florian." And looking straight at him: "Thank you," she said. "You handled that very well."
He gazed back at her in a virtual state of shock, thoughts darting in panic to the Security around him, the fear that one of them could simply pull a gun and spray the cabin; fear for Grant back in the apartment, that, no matter what Florian said about general Security not having admittance to that level, an eighteen-year-old girl was in charge, along with a Security guard no older than she was, and anything could happen; fear that something might be happening with Jordan; or that Paxer lunatics might somehow have rigged a missile that could take the plane out of the sky
There was not a damned thing he could do, except say what he was supposed to say, trust. . . God, that was the hard part. Let go all the defenses, do whatever Ari told him, and hope that another eighteen-year-old knew better than he did how to handle the situation.
"I was seventeen," he said to Ari, quietly, while the engines were warming up, "when I thought I knew what I was doing well enough to send Grant to Krugers. You know what that came to."
Ari snapped her seat buckle across, and reached up to take the drink Catlin handed her. "Warning taken. I know. But sometimes there aren't any choices, are there?"
vii
RESEUNE ONE made cruising altitude, and Ari took a sip of her drink and checked the small unit she had clipped to her chair arm, remote for the more complex electronics in the briefcase in its safety rack beside her seat, the first time she had ever carried it. She pushed the check button. It flashed a reassuring positive and beeped at her.
System up, link functioning.
Across from her, in his seat beside Justin, Florian nodded to her smile and nod at him. Florian had done the updating into the code systemof course it worked; and worked, so long as she made no queries, as a very thorough observer in Reseune's state-of-the-art net, simply picking up on all her flagged items and routing them to her as they came up in the flow.
Not even Defense had cracked that code-upon-code jargonesque flow Reseune Security used: one hoped.
Ari picked up her drink again and leaned back. "Everything's all right," she said to Justin. "No troubles we don't know about, and we're picking up our Bureau escort in about five minutes."
Justin looked from the window at his right toward her, truly looked at her, eye to eye across the low table that divided the seats. He had darted glances toward every movement in the plane, tense as Florian or Catlin when they were On; he was tracking even on the working of the plane's hydraulics, and the light from the window touched taut muscle in his jaw, mature lines of worry set into his brow and around his mouth: the years had touched him, no matter the rejuv. He worries so much, she thought. He's too smart to trust anyone. Certainly not Reseune. Now, not even his father. He'll doubt Grant himself if he's gone too long.
That's what he's trying to figure outtrying to estimate where I am in this, and whether Grant is safe, and how much I'm a young fool and how much I've got him fluxed and how much he can believe now of anything I say or do.
I'm not the kid he knew. He's begun to figure that; and he's started to wonder when it happened, and how far it's gone, and who was working on him while he was under kat. He's scared and embarrassed about being scared of me; but he knows he has every right to be afraid now.
The brain has to rule the flux, Art-elder; I think I've finally understood what you mean. Whether he slept with me or not, I'd have come round to this, I do think I would: you didn't bring up a fool, Ari-elder. Neither did maman and my uncles.
Ollie doesn't write because he values his neck, that's the truth. This universe is dangerous, and Ollie's just as upset as Grant is back there, alone, with strangers. He's trusted nothing since maman died. He works for Reseune Administration.
"We can talk now," she said, with a slide of her eyes toward the rear of the plane where the regular Security people sat. The engine noise was as good as any Silencer, given that Security did not have any unreported electronics back there; but the carry-bag at Florian's feet had its own array of devices, which one had to trust was up to what Florian vowed it wasand Florian's Base One clearance was quite adequate for him to find out whether it was up to date.
"An explanation would do," Justin said. "What are you doing?"
"I'd be ever so happy if I knew. I'm not choosing the timing on this. I'm afraid Councillor Corain is and it's not like him. I'm afraid the information has gotten to someone else, like Khalid, and he had to jump fast to be firstwhich is why it came out in the middle of the funeral, not tonight."
Justin looked taken off his balance. "You know about things like that.
I'm sure I don't."
"You know, Justin, you know damn well, you just haven't had uncle Giraud's briefings; and it still caught us. Giraud knew there was a leak. He knew what your father would say; he warned me what your father would say if he got a chance. The question isn't even whether it's true. Let's assume it is."
He was going to slip her, she saw it coming, and she maintained his attention with an uplifted finger, exactly, exactly Ari senior's mannerism: she knew it. "What does it do for your father?"
"It gets him the hell out of Planys. It gets him clean, dammit, it gets him his standing with the Bureau"
"All of which I'm not averse toin my own time. My own time isn't now. It can't be now. Think about it, Justin; you can handle Sociology equations. Try this one, try this one near-term, like the next few yearstell me what's going to happen and what's going to result from it. That's first. That's the thing that matters. What does it do to him, what's going to happen? Second question: where does he stand, where does he think he stands, what side has he just takenand don't tell me your father's naive, no one in Reseune is naive, just under-briefed."
He said nothing. But he was thinking, deep and seriously, on what she had said, and around the peripheries: who am I dealing with, what is she up to, has Denys choreographed this business? He was much too smart to take anything at one level.
"Did you leak it to Corain?" he asked.
Oh. That was a good one. It jolted a thought loose. " I didn't. But, God, Denys might have, mightn't he?"
"Or Giraud," Justin said.
She drew a long breath and leaned back. "Interesting thought. Very interesting thought."
"Maybe it's the truth. Maybe whoever leaked it is in a position to know it's the truth."
Florian was interested: Florian was watching Justin with utmost attention. She reckoned that Catlin was. God, Ari thought, and found herself smiling. He's not down, is he? I see how he's survived.
"Easier to answer that," she said, "if I had an idea what happened that night, but there's no evidence. I thought there might have been a Scriber record. There was just the Translate. There's nothing there. The sniffers were useless; there'd been too many people in and out before they thought about it. Psychprobe would have been the only way. And that didn't happen. And won't. It doesn't matter. Giraud talked about 'the Warrick influence.' Giraud made an enemy. Now what do we do about that enemy?"
A slower man, an emotional man, would have blurted out: Let him go. She sat watching Justin think, relatively sure of some of the tracksthe fact that Jordan's name was in Paxer graffiti; that Jordan's ideas had opposed her predecessor; that there was one election shaping up in Science and another virtually certain in Defense, both critical, both of which, if the Centrists woncould destroy Reseune, shift the course of history, jeopardize all Reseune's projects, and all her purposes. . . .