"Send someone round to her house," he told the aide. "Get that fucking collateral necklace off her."
"Yes, sir."
Hal stirred in discomfort when the ceiling light came on. There were a lot of excitable voices nearby. A hand shook his shoulder.
"Piss off," he mumbled. He was still half dreaming about Avril.
"On your feet, Private!"
He lifted his head. Sergeant Wagner was standing above the bed, his face hard and contemptuous. Captain Bryant stood just behind him, looking furious and possibly just a little bit scared. There were other people crowding into the hotel room, two of them in local police uniforms.
"Whaa— Sir." Hal pushed the quilt off and clambered to his feet. He didn't salute. He only had his shorts on; it would have looked ridiculous. His heart started hammering. Oh, shit, they found out that I broke curfew.
"Detective," Bryant said with a sharp nod at one of the policemen.
The detective came forward. "You are Halford Grabowski?"
"Er, yes, sir." He glanced at Wagner, hoping for some kind of support. The sergeant's stare was fierce.
"I am arresting you on suspicion of rape."
"Ung." Hal's jaw dropped in astonishment.
"In accordance with the Perlman declaration I am advising you to say nothing at this time. I am entitled to take you from this place to an officially sanctioned holding area, where you are to be questioned with your legal representative present. Please put some clothes on."
"You've got to be fucking joking. Sir?" He turned to the captain.
"Get dressed," Bryant ordered.
"I didn't do nothing. Not that!"
The detective produced a pair of handcuffs. "Come on, son, don't make it any worse."
"You can't do this!"
"Oh, yes, I can."
Hal turned to the captain, pleading. "Tell him."
"While you're here, you are operating under local civil law, Grabowski. We made that quite clear during your briefing. Now put some damn clothes on, or you'll be taken to the station as you are."
Sergeant Wagner held up a pair of trousers. Hal managed a dazed laugh and took them from him.
"I want this room sealed," the detective was telling Captain Bryant. "Our forensic team will need to examine it later."
"I understand. Nobody will come in here."
It wasn't real, Hal was telling himself, none of this was real.
Lawrence Newton came into the room, dressed in a short gray toweling robe. He raked at his disheveled hair as he yawned widely.
"Sarge," Hal yelled. "For Christ's sake, help me."
Bryant held up a warning finger. "You are not active in this case, Newton. When an arrest is being made, nobody from the suspect's platoon is to be involved. Standard procedure. Now get out."
Lawrence gave the captain a reasonable nod, as if the facts were obvious. He turned to the detective. "I'm the kid's NCO. What's the charge?"
"Newton!" Bryant stormed.
"We're taking him for questioning concerning an alleged rape."
"Really. When was it supposed to have taken place?" Lawrence asked.
"Early this morning."
"Okay." Lawrence looked directly at the frantic kid. "Did you do it?"
"Be quiet," Bryant demanded. "Grabowski, I'm ordering you not to reply."
"I didn't, Sarge. Not that. For fuck's sake, you gotta believe me."
Lawrence studied his face for a moment. "I do."
"Oh, thank you, Jesus."
"Hal, finish dressing," Lawrence told him. "Then you'll have to go with the police."
"Sarge!"
"Do it. We'll get a lawyer sorted out for you at this end. Clear this crap up quickly. Meantime, you do as you're told. Understand?"
"Yes, Sarge."
Hal finished dressing and reluctantly let the detective cuff his hands. As he was led away down the corridor all his platoonmates were waiting outside their doors. They shouted encouragement, slapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, told him they'd be on his case right away, no worries. He even managed a few sheepish grins. The last thing he heard as the elevator doors shut on him and his escort was Captain Bryant hissing furiously: "My office, Newton. Five minutes."
There was an angry crowd outside the police station. Hal could hear them from his cell. The chanting. The shouting.
Everyone had been polite to him since they arrived. It was an act, though, he could tell that much. A Z-B lieutenant had ridden with him in the police car, introducing himself as Lannon Bralow.
"I've been assigned as your legal representative," he told Hal.
"You mean you're my lawyer?"
"Yes."
Hal relaxed slightly.
After they got to the station, Hal was shown into a medical examination room and told to take his clothes off. They were put in a polyethylene bag and taken away. Then a doctor arrived and wanted to take samples. Lannon Bralow told him it was okay, and to cooperate. So Hal lay down on the couch and let the doc prod and poke. He only kicked up when the guy started to examine his dick. His dick, for Christ's sake! But Bralow was there and kept saying how it was okay, and everyone needed it done. Hal let it happen, but made the lawyer promise he wouldn't tell anyone else from 435NK9. Jesus, he'd never live that down.
Once it was over, the police gave him a one-piece overall to wear and took him down to the cells. What seemed like hours later, Lieutenant Bralow came in to see him.
"So, like, where are we?" Hal asked. He was a little pissed the sarge hadn't come.
"They're about ready to interview you."
"For what? I didn't do anything."
Bralow forced a smile. "Hal, the girl that's making the allegations ... They found traces of you inside her. I was there when they took the samples. Our own AS identified your DNA."
"It's wrong. I never raped no one. I ain't no fucking animal."
"Hal, we've been running our own inquiry at the barracks.
We know you broke the curfew last night Morkson told us all about the backyard and the motion sensor."
"Shit!" Hal groaned. Goddamned Morkson. What an asshole.
"Hal, now listen, you have to be level with me on this one. Half of Memu Bay is outside howling for your blood. The asset factories are on strike. There's a barricade outside the airport gate so our cargo trucks can't get through. The platoons are being attacked in the streets; we've had to use darts nine times already today, and it's not even noon yet. What the hell happened last night?"
"I went to a goddamn whorehouse. Okay? I mean, Jesus, it's been months since I got me some pussy. I was, like, on fire. And this curfew..."
"Right." Bralow sounded relieved. He opened up his desktop pearl. "Start at the beginning."