The man in question hung up the phone and saw I was awake. “Hey. You’re looking better.”
“I’m feeling better,” I said. “What’s been happening? I take it we got away clean?”
“Your, uh, your buddy got us out—he took out the troops and took Dawna Polk hostage. Turns out she’s so valuable we managed to swing trading up to get out. I got the impression only a handful of ’em can do the mental jazz; they didn’t want to lose her.”
“I suppose she’s one of Pithica’s higher-ups, then, huh.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding unsure and unhappy.
“So you let her go?”
“Your friend was the one calling the shots, but not much choice on that one.”
“He’s not my friend,” I said automatically.
Arthur made a face. “What, then? He owe you money? You owe him money? I can’t figure it out!”
“Then ask when you can tell me why it’s any of your business.” There wasn’t a chance in hell I would tell him how Rio and I had met. That wasn’t his to know.
The apartment door opened at that moment and Rio himself came in. He was back in his customary tan duster, and water slicked the mantle in dark patches. Apparently it was raining outside—I couldn’t hear it. It made me wonder how long I’d been out; the rainy season in Los Angeles doesn’t usually start until December or January, though sometimes it was months earlier.
“Hello, Cas,” Rio greeted me, when he saw I was sitting up. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot,” I answered.
He nodded. “Understandable, given the circumstances.”
Arthur threw up his hands in what I could only have described as flailing.
“But I’m getting better,” I told Rio, ignoring Arthur. I felt more energetic, and I was awake, which was a change, and the numbers surrounding me weren’t quite as sluggish as they had been, and I knew the answer to how fast I was metabolizing the drugs, so things were looking up.
“Thanks be to God,” said Rio. He came over and checked the IV bags hanging above my head.
I thought the thanks were due to Rio, myself—oh, all right, Arthur too—but I was sensitive enough to Rio’s beliefs that I didn’t say it out loud. Instead I said, “I heard you made a daring rescue.” Arthur mumbled something about getting me food and retreated to the kitchen area at the far side of the room.
“It was not hard once you provided the opportunity,” answered Rio.
“Dawna Polk’s that important, huh?”
“The people with her skills are the core of Pithica. They are rare and precious to the organization. It is their greatest resource weakness.”
I mulled over that tidbit of information. In hindsight, this meant I might not have needed Rio’s help at all. I could have taken Dawna a hostage in her library without blinking. Heck, I could have taken her hostage back at the town where they had first captured us. Why hadn’t I at least tried? All I could remember thinking was that they had Arthur and therefore I had no other options…
“I could have gotten us out,” I blurted.
“No,” said Rio.
“I could have. I had plenty of opportunities around Dawna—”
“Do not fault yourself, Cas. She can make herself safe from anybody.”
Oh. Right. I never would have considered attacking Dawna as an option because she had made sure I didn’t think of it. I wondered if I’d had other escape options, too. It was hard to think back; I’d been so certain at the time.
Rio pulled up the chair that Arthur usually occupied. “You said before that she talked to you. Will you tell me what about?”
Well. At least she hadn’t mind-zapped me during that part. I kind of wished she had—it would make my doubts easier to swallow. “She talked about Pithica,” I admitted softly. “How it’s all because they want to make people’s lives better. How they want to make the world all peaceful and wonderful for everyone.”
“Did you believe her?”
I picked at the blanket across my knees. “I’m not sure.”
“I see,” he said.
“She didn’t brainwash me,” I insisted. “It wasn’t like that. I remember everything. She just…she had a lot of really logical arguments.”
“Cas,” said Rio, “She had logical arguments for you because you respond to logical arguments.”
I was confused. “What other type would someone respond to?”
“It’s clear you don’t often converse with other people,” said Rio with a hint of irony.
“Oh, and you do?”
“Touché,” he said. “Cas, she used the method of argument that would most appeal to you. With another she might have used emotional appeal, or irrelevant facts, or fallacies of any stripe.”
He was missing the point. “It doesn’t matter what she would use on anyone else,” I said. “She had logical arguments. The logic in them doesn’t go away just because she wouldn’t have mentioned it to someone-not-me.”
“She had what seemed like logical arguments,” Rio corrected. “People can pretend to logic to perpetrate almost any reality.”
“Except when you dig deep enough, that kind of ‘logic’ always has deductive flaws,” I contested hotly. “This was different. I think I would know.”
“Are you so sure?” asked Rio.
“Of course I’m sure! I’m perfectly capable of differentiating—”
I stopped. Rio was smiling.
“What are you laughing at?” I asked crossly.
“We can keep going until you call me names again,” he said.
My brain screeched to a halt. I had been getting steamed up at him again, and for no reason except— “Oh,” I mumbled. “Sorry.” I buried my face in one hand. The familiar—and suddenly welcome—thudding of a headache started up in the back of my skull. “She did get to me, didn’t she.”
“Only in the incipient stages. If you keep out of their way from now on, it will be of no consequence. If they cannot find you, they cannot do anything. Will you stay off the case this time?”
But she had logical arguments. She had logical arguments! Was there a flaw? Could I find it?
Rio, though not psychic, seemed to know what I was thinking. “Cas. It is much more difficult to apply logic to morality than you sometimes believe it to be.”
“That’s stupid,” I muttered, but without any vitriol, and without any real belief behind the words. “You should be able to axiomitize everything. How else can you know right from wrong?”
Rio was smiling again. “If you’re asking me personally, you know how. Sumasampalataya ako sa iyong tsarera.”
“What does that mean?” He didn’t answer me, but I knew already. “God’s not my thing,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter,” he countered. “Whether you believe or not, it remains that there are no mortal answers to these questions, and any claimant thereof must therefore lie.” He sounded so calm. So sure.
I’d never talked philosophy with Rio before. I had always assumed his blind faith meant he hadn’t given it much thought and he would parrot Bible verses as his version of argument…but apparently I was wrong.
The pending migraine notwithstanding, I started feeling better about my tangled feelings regarding Pithica as an organization. I was less sure than ever of the right answer, but if Rio was correct and a right answer might not even exist, then I didn’t have to plunge wholesale after where Dawna’s logic led. At least not right away.