"They must have known down here that something was wrong. Why didn't anyone break in and find out?"
"I don't want to think about what went on down here."
Vickers looked away from the wrinkled, dehydrated face. He felt a little sick. The only mercy was that the eyes were closed. He hitched the Yasha over his shoulder.
"I've had enough of this."
Eggy, with a sudden demonstration of unexpected friendship, put a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm with you, bro. Let's get the fuck out of here and let someone else clean up the mess."
Behind them the body slowly started to turn. The break-in had disturbed the previously still air. Coming hard on the heels of the exploding rocket, the motion was too much for the dried-out neck tendons. They parted. The head jerked back and the body fell to the floor with a leathery clatter. The head bounced. Out in the corridor Vickers really fought not to throw up. He managed it but only with great difficulty.
TEN
THERE WERE STEAKS and beer at the Desert Inn. On the way out of the inner sanctum, Vickers had sworn that he'd never eat again but when he actually smelled frying from the motel coffee shop that served as the officers' mess, he realized that he was starving. He'd been living on coffee, pills and scotch for close to three days. By the time he'd loaded a mess tray with two sizable steaks, a double order of fries, two eggs and four slices of wheat toast, his mouth was actually watering. The only snag was that he didn't get to eat the meal in peace. Halfway through, Victoria Morgenstern sat down at his table.
"So you're out."
"I didn't know it was going to be so difficult. I thought once things were squared away you'd start evacuating those people."
"You can't hurry these things. Those people have a lot of adjusting to do."
"Hurry things? It took four hours of screaming bloody murder before they'd let me out."
"That was a mistake. You were absolutely exempted from the containment order."
Although both Contec and the army had refused to enter the bunker in a combat role, neither snowed any hesitation in taking control and acting as virtual jailers once the situation was under control. Suddenly Victoria was making up the rules and Getz was enforcing them. Specially flown in admin teams set up shop on the first level and, backed up by armed troops, they started opening files and handing out ID cards. It had suddenly been decided that the evacuation of the bunker would take place on an individual basis and only after each individual had been thoroughly screened. The key points were "stability, adaptability and attitude" and the process threatened to take months.
"What is this containment order shit, Victoria?"
"What are you complaining about? You and your friends are all out and free, aren't you?"
Indeed, when Vickers had talked his way out he'd managed to bring Parkwood, Yabu and Eggy out with him. They were at another table eating without interruption. Vickers jabbed angrily at his steak.
"That's not the point."
"Isn't it? That's strange coming from you. I thought all you cared about was number one."
"I spent a long time in that place. For most of the people in there it's been a nightmare. They've been through enough. The last thing they need is being hung up in a whole lot of bullshit bureaucracy."
"I have every compassion for the people in the bunker but…"
"That's a lot of crap. You never had compassion for anyone. You don't do compassion."
"We can't just let those people loose. A lot of them are crazy. They need all the help they can get."
"Sure, and you're going to keep them penned up in the bunker while you help them."
"You're not thinking. I'm telling you we can't just turn them loose. The problem of who actually employs them and who owes them back pay is almost insurmountable."
"I knew it would all come down to money in the end."
"You've been taken care of. Contec's picking up your tab without question."
"They damn well better."
Victoria did her best to look placating. It hardly suited her.
"Try and look at it from our point of view. There's no way we can just dump nearly four thousand badly fucked up individuals back into the world without credit lines, jobs or anything. The first stop would be Las Vegas. Can you imagine how the Vegas authorities would react if we did that?"
Vickers very carefully put down his fork.
"And who are the Las Vegas authorities these days?"
Victoria looked at him sharply.
"What?"
"I was wondering who was minding the shop now that Herbie Mossman's dead."
For a moment she avoided his eyes.
"As a matter of fact, we are."
"Contec?"
"Without Mossman and the personal loyalty he commanded from his staff, Global Leisure started to come unglued. There was a merger."
"How convenient."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I was never too happy about the Mossman assassination. I was also struck by the fact that when I came out the first time, nobody was particularly interested in what had happened."
Victoria's answer came a little too quickly and neatly.
"It was old news by then."
"I got the impression that everyone knew about it. When I asked about it, the army told me to go see Contec and Contec just got close-mouthed."
Victoria Morgenstern looked as though she was sucking on a lemon.
"You know the story. Herbie Mossman got into the bunker at the start of the crisis. You know what he was like. He was so pathological about preserving himself that he wouldn't even breathe the air. Lloyd-Ransom thought that he'd try and take over and had him killed."
"That's what Lloyd-Ransom told me. I didn't believe him, either."
Morgenstern's face became properly impassive.
"So what outrageous theory do you have, Mort?"
"I figure Lloyd-Ransom was doing his last job for the old firm. It's my guess that Contec, probably you, either stampeded or lured Herbie into the bunker and Lloyd-Ransom had instructions to kill him, thus opening the way for the takeover. Of course, Lloyd-Ransom had his own plans but that's history. Nobody knew what he had in mind when the original orders were given. Even as things turned out, it must have worked quite well. Sure you lost a bunker for eighteen months, but you got Global."
Victoria's mouth curled into a tight little smile.
"That's quite fantastic."
"Isn't it just?"
"And complete nonsense."
"Maybe."
"You don't have any bright ideas of circulating this wild tale, do you? Like giving it to the media or anything?"
Vicker grinned.
"Who? Me? You know I wouldn't do a thing like that. I'm a good Contec corpse; I know how to keep my mouth shut."
"I'm very glad of that." Victoria stood up. "I'll leave you to finish your meal in peace."
Vickers looked down at his plate. His appetite wasn't what it had been when he'd started. "Yeah."
"You're taking some time off?"
"I figure I deserve it."
"You'll find that your credit's been taken care of."
"That's nice of you."
"It's the least I could do."
"Right."
"I'll expect you back in New York in a month. I hope you can manage not to get into trouble."
Vickers sat in the cocktail bar in the Las Vegas airport. He was working on his fourth large scotch. For the first time in as long as he could remember he had absolutely nothing to do. He felt lost. He was very aware that he was pouring booze into himself to fill a yawning psychological emptiness. He couldn't quite grasp the fact that it was all over. The idea of time off was meaningless. He had homed in on the airport almost by instinct, but beyond that he didn't have a clue where he wanted to go. His only solid idea was, after all that had happened, he absolutely didn't want to stay in Las Vegas. There was something horrifying about the moving crowd in the Hawaiian shirts and leisure clothes. They were so dumbly, obliviously alive.