The place smelled of paint and plaster. And they walked. It was ghostly quiet. Deserted.
“Are we the only ones here, I wonder?” he asked.
“Not a sound,” Grant said.
“I can understand the suddenness,” he said. “Her security requirements. But, God…”
“It is certainly a surprise,” Grant said.
On the analogy of other moves, it would likely be thorough…and might include the rented vid. If there was a vending chit forgotten at the bottom of a drawer, he had every confidence that it was going to be swept up, installed in a neat box of “we don’t know where this goes” items, but it would be there. Anything that seemed like personal property was likely going with them.
It wouldn’t, however–a stray and irritated thought, from experience–include the electronic list in the minder, all his phone numbers and addresses. He remembered the color‑coded office supplies.
And his minder file was precisely the sort of thing a security operation was going to peel out and go over with a microscope before they gave it back to him–but if he asked nicely they mightstream it onto the new minder, in the new place, for his convenience.
That prospect annoyed him, in advance of the event, no matter that there wasn’t a thing in it he cared if they knew.
“They’ve moved our office again,” Grant commented.
“And, damn it all, we just got the pictures hung!”
“They might move them, too,” Grant said. “Or not. Maybe they’ve provided some.”
High‑handed security touched off old twitches, no question, visions of little rooms and endless questions.
But this Ari was not the enemy, and she was keeping herself alive, and presumably taking care of those she deemed close to her. It was just one more step toward a life that, nervous as it made him, wasn’t going to be the quiet life he’d tried to make for himself and Grant. It wasn’t going to be inconspicuous, or safe–probably he lacked all power to do any damned thing in his career henceforward butserve as her backup, checker, and sounding board, but hell, he wasn’t ambitious. He’d survived this far. That had, all along, been the name of the game. Never mind the job classification. Never mind personal aspirations. Just stay alive.
They walked. Doors on the left and right, very widely spaced. “Big apartments,” he said to Grant. There was number 10, 8, 6–all evens in this hall. And a corner.
Number 1, a blue‑green door, occupied an enormous stretch of hall, and right across from it–
“Number 2,” Grant said.
There was a red door on the right, number 4, then, occupying the middle, number 2, a bright green one, and beyond that, finishing that corridor before another bend, gold number 3 and blue number 5.
“Right across from her,” he said tentatively. “Who are 3, 4 and 5, I wonder?”
“I have no notion,” Grant said, and used his new keycard on the door. It shot open.
The lights came on, brightened overhead, a high‑ceilinged corridor with the illusion of mid‑afternoon sky overhead–it drew the eye up, in total startlement, made one think, nervously, that it was a skylight.
But it went on brightening. There was the sound of water splashing, somewhere. And down the hall, beneath it–statuary, and pictures, old ones, classic ones.
Living room at the left. New furniture. Medium green couch. Abstract carpet pattern in rust browns. Classy. Goldtone metal edge on the coffee table in front of it. Big wall sculpture in brass and rust brown enamel, an explosion of angles. He just stood there, half‑blocking Grant’s entry, until he realized that fact and walked all the way in.
Dining room, beyond that, in brass and glass, tiled floor like stone. A stream of water ran noisily down one wall, with a splashing sound that carried into the living room and the foyer.
“My God,” he said.
“Rather pleasant place,” Grant said.
“We don’t possibly earn this much,” he said.
“It seems we do now,” Grant said. “And I’m sure, for whatever reason, we’re worth it to someone.”
He drew a breath, headed back through the apartment to the bedroom.
Correction: bedrooms. There were three, one green, one rust and reds, one blue. And an office or study, in lighter green.
“What in hell are we supposed to do here?” Justin asked, turning from one bedroom to the other, in the hall. “Is it multiple choice?”
“This must be the main one,” Grant said, and walked into the largest‑looking bedroom, the blue one.
Justin followed. Beyond was a bathroom beyond the size a public gym might need. Sunken tub. Shower. Exercise equipment. He didn’t even go in. He just turned full circle, saw a bed in a mirrored nook, mirrored ceiling.
“Good God.” He was embarrassed.
Grant walked over and touched the switches by the bed. Room lights went down. Water ripple made the whole area look underwater.
“Dramatic,” Grant said.
It was. Grant stood bathed in that light. He was still moderately appalled, as Grant apparently hit another switch. It became firelight, playing games on the bed, and in the mirrors on either hand.
Third was flashing neon. A blare of music.
Grant cut it off, startled, and, after two tries, went back to firelight. It was an interesting aesthetic effect. It might be, if nerves could quit insisting the building might be afire.
“I think she means well,” Grant said.
“I can’t imagine where they got this thing,” he said. “God, what does she think we are?”
He walked midroom, where there was a bureau. A vase of fresh flowers of mixed colors sat propping a note card.
Dear Justin,it read, I hope you like it. I hope it’s not too gaudy, but you’d said all along you wanted color. You’re safe here. Staff will do cleaning once a day, or oftener if you need them: you don’t have to maintain anything, or cook if you don’t want to. The minder has the call button. Wing staff will clean for you: they’re all going to be high security. And there’s going to be a restaurant downstairs on 1 sometime next week, so they’ll cater for you, at any hour: I wouldn’t presume to install domestic staff for you, but if you and Grant decide you need some, and Wing staff isn’t enough, you only have to ask. Guards assigned, specifically to Apartment 2 security are Mark BM‑18 and Gerry BG‑22–they’re general Alpha Wing security, but they’re two you passed on, and if there’s a general emergency, their first priority is you and Grant, so know who they are, and they’ll just look out for you in general. Your accesses are a subset of Base One, officially now, registered that way, so you don’t have to pretend to be Callie or Theo any more. All Library is open to you, and any security situation in the Wing will be at least as transparent to you as to any of my staff except my bodyguard, if you just query Base One, so if you ever get worried you or Grant can access it immediately from any handheld anywhere in Reseune. I know you’re careful with codes.
Have I ever mentioned you and Grant kept me honest when I was a kid? You still do. You never flattered me, never lied to me. Please talk to me first if you ever have a problem. That means you’ll never cross up something I’m doing. Meanwhile I just feel safer and more comfortable if you’re across the hall. I don’t know why that is, but it’s so.
The minder is primed with all the Alpha Wing service numbers as well as all your old ones. You can go anywhere you ever went. Just guard those keycards with your lives.
Grant, keep him out of trouble. I love you both so much. And I’ll be so happy if you like this place, but you can change anything you want to change, anything at all.