“-The Duchamps… they all help to bend more rules, shift things to a satisfying conclusion. Altered memories, altered focus, a bit of rewriting and pressure in the right places. I walk away free and clear, having served my family and all of humanity.”
I nodded.
“The extras I talked about? Putting you away for a long time? It’s sensible. It means things like what happened in Etobicoe don’t happen again.”
“I bound that thing,” I said.
“And you gave it away.”
“There’s more going on than you understand.”
“I know just about everything that’s gone on. I know that this is one situation where crippling you, reducing you to something smaller, it’s for the best. We already have officers talking to your friends, who may well not be your friends after this. They’re turning your apartment upside-down. Above all else, we’re going to keep you for the day. Your lawyer isn’t magical. When it counts, I can shift things one way or the next, and you’re not in a position to stop me.”
“Cheating the system you serve,” I said.
“Serving the system with a little cheating,” he said. “Nudges, but nudges are all we need.”
“Nudges like the ones you used to keep me from noticing the eyes on me, or that you were a practitioner?”
He smiled, but he didn’t answer my question. “A friendless, homeless diabolist is easier to keep track of. If we dismantle you, then your actions reach only so far. They’re easier to contain. This is doubly true if you’re forsworn, or you’ve upset the local Lord through an inability to carry out the tasks you were set. If you die, our family can deal with the next member of your family. If you don’t… if you’re reduced to a husk of a man in a cell, well, the family gets its peace and quiet until we do need you to die.”
“How do you know everything?”
“Simple,” he said. “I asked.”
Asked. Asked who?
I didn’t imagine he’d tell me.
He shifted position, looking from latte to door. “The effect is weakening. Breaks plausibility if we delay them too long. Best I break the rune now. On your best behavior, diabolist.”
He dropped the full latte into the trash can. Breaking the rune in the process, I supposed.
A moment later, the door opened.
“Mrs. Harris,” my lawyer introduced herself. I had the impression of a forty year old who looked fifty. Her hair was bleached platinum blonde, her roots showed. That aside, she looked more crisp than I’d expected of a free, crown-appointed lawyer. Not attractive, her face wrinkled by years of stress, but she wasn’t frumpy or rumpled.
“Hi, Mrs. Harris, I’m Blake Thorburn,” I said.
“I’ve got your file here,” she said. She took the chair that had been previously occupied by Duncan’s partner. “Given the severity of the charges arranged against you, may I very earnestly recommend a lawyer you’re actually paying?”
“You can, but unless you’re giving me the cash to do it with,” I said, “I don’t really have the option… the only lawyers I could pay would be one I really don’t want to be in debt to.”
I saw Duncan smile a bit.
“Even with a murder charge?”
“Even with,” I said.
She twisted in her seat, looking at the two officers. “Give us some privacy?”
Duncan smiled some, but he joined his partner and left. The door clicked shut.
The recording device in the other room clicked off, very deliberately this time. Not a rune-induced flickering out.
“Do you have property you could sell?” she asked.
Did I? I had my bike.
I couldn’t help but feel like selling it would be like giving up my last vestige of hope for a normal life, after all this was said and done.
A faint, stupid, silly hope, but I couldn’t imagine a scenario where I put this whole Diabolist, Thorburn, Laird, Conquest, Demon thing to rest, and I didn’t have the opportunity to ride.
“No,” I said. “I’m basically one step below a starving artist. I’m the guy who lives off the generosity of the artists.”
“And a recently acquired property worth a considerable amount.”
“Can’t sell it, can’t really do anything with it. If I could have, I would have already.”
“I’m not going to be able to do a very good job for you,” she said. “This would actually be my first murder trial.”
“I appreciate anything you can do, Mrs. Harris,” I said. “But quite frankly, I think I’m pretty damn screwed.”
“Did you talk to them?”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“Good,” she said.
All that effort, and all I got was a ‘good’.
She fished in her bag, then pulled out a notebook. “Blake Thorburn. They’re accusing you of murdering a little boy. What can you tell me?”
I finally had a moment to think, and the thoughts weren’t coming together.
“I… was told to go to that location, earlier. I did, except the police were told something else. They arrived at the same time.”
“You think you were set up?”
“I most definitely think so,” I said.
“Why you?”
“I can’t say for sure. What I can say is that I have custody of a property worth a surprising amount of money.”
She nodded. “You think it was a family matter, then?”
“I think it was a family, two families in particular, but I don’t think it was mine,” I said.
■
The two cops entered the room.
“Your superior officer, too?” Mrs. Harris asked. “I know he’s watching.”
I turned my eyes to the mirror.
An older man with peppery hair and a mustache entered our already cramped interrogation room.
“My client alleges that Officer Behaim here has been influenced by an outside party, a Laird Behaim of the Jacob’s Bell Police Department?”
“My uncle,” Duncan said.
“This same Laird Behaim was apparently questioned recently about the circumstances surrounding the death of a Molly Walker?”
“And it comes full circle,” Duncan said. “Your client’s cousin.”
“You were aware of this?” the older man asked.
“Not entirely.”
“Whatever the justification or explanation, whether it’s true or not, I think it’s sensible to remove your Officer Behaim from this particular case.”
The older man frowned. “Yes. Of course.”
“And, further, my client is concerned because your officer threatened to shoot him, only moments before we entered the room. If we could check the recording device?”
“Of course.”
“If there’s any such threat-“
“Or sign of tampering,” I cut in.
I saw Duncan roll his eyes.
My lawyer gave me a sour look. “Yes, or sign of tampering, then we feel it would be best if Officer Behaim here were removed from the vicinity entirely.”