Behind Gaffney the passwall sealed itself into impermeability.
‘You’re very talkative all of a sudden. Let’s see how long you can keep it up.’
Dreyfus rubbed a finger along the furred line of his unbrushed teeth. ‘I guess the cat’s come to torment the mouse while everyone else is looking the other way?’
‘On the contrary. I’ve come to interview you, with full Panoply sanction. Baudry gave me her personal blessing.’
Dreyfus looked down to see if Gaffney was carrying anything. ‘No field trawl,’ he observed. ‘What’s wrong: worried that it might reveal some truths you’d rather remained hidden?’
‘On the contrary. Worried that it wouldn’t give us the hard data we need fast enough. There’s a crisis going on out there, Dreyfus. The question is: are you a part of whatever’s happening, or did you just kill the prisoner because she looked at you the wrong way?’
‘I hear we lost the Universal Suffrage.’
‘Too bad. There were some good rookies on that ship.’
‘Not to mention Senior Prefect Crissel.’
‘Worse ways to go than fighting for a cause.’
‘This is all about a cause, isn’t it? For you, anyway. I’ve followed your career, Sheridan. I know what makes you tick. You’re the most selflessly driven prefect I’ve ever known. You eat, sleep and breathe security. Nothing matters more to you than guaranteeing the safety of the Glitter Band.’
Gaffney appeared surprised by this outburst of praise. ‘If the cap fits.’
‘Oh, it does. It fits too well. You’re a machine, Sheridan. You’re like a wind-up toy, an automaton consumed by a single idea. You’ve let that cause swallow you whole. It’s all you know, all you’re capable of thinking about.’
‘You think security doesn’t matter?’
‘Oh, it matters all right. The problem is, in your personal universe it trumps all other concerns. You’ll consider any action, contemplate crossing any line, if you feel your precious security is in danger of being compromised. Let’s tick the boxes, shall we? Murder of a witness. Betrayal of fellow Panoply operatives. You’re about to add torture to the list. And you haven’t even really got going yet. What’s next on the menu, Sheridan: full-scale genocide?’
‘What I do — what we all do — is about the preservation of life, not the destruction of it.’
‘That may be the way it looks in your warped worldview.’
‘There’s nothing warped about it, Tom.’ Gaffney tapped a finger against the side of his head. ‘I’m sorry — are we on first-name terms now? It’s just that you took offence the last time I used yours. “Sonofabitch” was the phrase, I think.’
‘Whatever makes you happy, Sheridan.’
‘You’ve got me all wrong. You’re the loose cannon in this organisation, Tom. I didn’t bring the Spider bitch inside Panoply and let her riffle through our operational secrets. I didn’t kill her when I realised my mistake.’
‘They’ll find out I didn’t kill her.’
‘There’s half a body in your quarters, Tom. It didn’t teleport there.’
‘Maybe she walked there, with you telling her everything was going to be fine.’
‘No, she didn’t walk. Forensics found tissue traces in the bubble. That’s where she was shot. Whoever killed her didn’t hang around to clean up too well. But you’d know that, wouldn’t you?’
‘How would I have got her from the interrogation bubble to my room without you knowing about it?’
‘That’s a damned good question. One I’m hoping you can answer.’
‘If I wanted to move a body, if I wanted to tamper with access records to hide my own entry into the bubble, being head of Internal Security would certainly make life easier. But even then, I’m not sure how you did it.’
‘Why would I have killed a key witness?’
‘Because she knew you were working for Aurora. Because there was a chance she could have discovered Aurora’s vulnerabilities, given us a clue as to how to take her down.’
Gaffney pointed his finger at Dreyfus. ‘Right. That name again.’
‘What’s she got on you, Sheridan?’
Gaffney looked bored. ‘I think we’ve pretty much covered the preliminaries.’
‘And now you’re going to kill me,’ Dreyfus surmised.
‘I’m going to use intelligence-extraction methods on you, Tom, that’s all. Nothing you won’t get over given time and rest.’
‘You know that there isn’t a truth to extract. I’m not going to start confessing to crimes I never committed.’
‘We’ll just have to see what pops out, shan’t we?’
‘I understand now,’ Dreyfus said. ‘This is the only way out for you, isn’t it? I must die under interrogation. You’ll have some explaining to do, but I’m sure you’ve thought that through already. How’s it going to happen? Whiphound malfunction? I hear there’ve been some quality-assurance issues with those Model Cs.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Gaffney said as he unclipped his whiphound and thumbed it on. ‘I’ve come to interview you, not kill you. How would that go down? I’m not a butcher.’
He ran out the filament and allowed it to find traction against the floor, then relinquished his hold on the handle. For an instant the whiphound stayed where it was, just turning its shaft to shine the red laser of its eye on Dreyfus’s face. Then it began to advance, its filament making a slow hissing sound as it scraped its coils against the floor. The handle was tipped down slightly, like the head of a cobra.
Dreyfus knew that there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. But he could not help shrinking back against the wall, dragging his legs up onto the bunk as if the corner might provide some sanctuary from the questing machine.
Gaffney stood back, his arms folded across his chest. ‘Guess you know the drill, Tom. No point pretending this is going to be pleasant. But tell me what I need to know and it’ll all be over with very quickly. Why did you kill Clepsydra, and how did you get the body to your room?’
‘You killed her, not me. She was still alive when I left her.’
The whiphound slinked onto the bunk, the elevation of its handle never altering. The red glare of its laser made Dreyfus squint and hold a hand up to his face. It came nearer, until he could hear a shrill electronic buzzing. He edged deeper into the corner, drawing his knees high against his chest. The whiphound continued its advance, bringing the blunt end of the handle to within a hand’s-width of Dreyfus’s face. The brightness of the laser and the electronic humming combined with hypnotic effect. Around the trembling shield of his hand he saw the filament’s tip rise up and quest the air. It began to curl, ready to wrap itself around Dreyfus. Part of him wanted to reach out and grab it, to try to stop it finding a way behind his back. A more sensible part of him knew how futile that would be, and what the attempt would do to his fingers.
‘They’ll find out what you did,’ he said. ‘They’re better than you, Gaffney. You won’t be able to hide from Panoply for ever.’
Then he felt the filament whip around him. It wrapped itself around him twice, constricting him with its blunt edge. His arms were pinned to his sides, his knees jammed hard against his ribcage. The handle remained pointed at his face, its laser eye washing the world into scarlet.
‘The whiphound’s going to insert the tip of its tail into your mouth,’ Gaffney said, ‘but we can go with any orifice you like. Your call, Tom.’
Dreyfus closed his mouth, biting down so hard that he tasted salty wetness gush from his tongue. The filament tapped against the portcullis of his teeth, as if asking permission to enter. Dreyfus produced a senseless groan of defiance. The whiphound tapped again. He felt the filament tighten its coils.