“Would he be honest with you if you asked?”
Because they couldn’t legally use anything but truthers on Jordan, and Jordan could beat those.
“I don’t know. He’s not speaking to me at the moment. Not since–not since that dinner.”
“I think it’s a good moment for you to talk to him. I think it’s a logical moment.”
One thing Ari had was a sense of timing. He could appreciate it–even if he had rather walk barefoot into the wilderness. “I won’t go there with Grant.”
“Grant won’t stay here,” Grant said.
“Dammit, Grant.”
“I take it I have leave to defend myself.”
“Absolutely,” Ari said.
“Ari.” Justin rounded on her with no hesitation. “If anything happens to him–I will neverforgive it.”
“If anything happens,” she said “Florian will be through, that door faster than you can blink.”
“And if I go there with yourentourage, he won’t say a thing.”
“Try,” she said.
Try. He looked at Grant, not at all liking it. He set the drink down, scarcely touched: he was going to need all his mental resources.
“Sorry to desert you,” he said, pro forma, and went back down the hall to the bedroom, righted the damaged table. Grant followed him.
“Sorry,” Grant said, “but you’re no safer in that apartment than I am. Two of us–”
“My own father,” he said bitterly. “You know, among born‑men, that’s actually supposed to count for something.”
“Two CITs are dead,” Grant said somberly. “And, I repeat, you’re not safe.”
“Damn,” he said, and grabbed random clothes from the closet.
BOOK THREE Section 2 Chapter iii
JUNE 12, 2424
0211H
Press of the button. Possibly the minder was set to ignore commotion at this hour. Justin knocked at the door. Forcefully.
“Ser,” Florian said, and reached past him with a keycard. The door opened, and Florian pushed the door open, but Justin put out an arm, barring his way.
“My father. Let me handle it alone. Please. There’s nothing wrong. Reasonable people are asleep at this hour.”
“Call out to him,” Florian said, not giving an inch.
“Dad?” he called out. “Jordan?”
Lights came up suddenly, throwing the apartment into brightness–an apartment like the one they’d had, once, much the same design, dining counter, kitchen, living area, all together…it evoked nostalgia every time he entered it.
“Go,” he said to Florian. “Wait outside. I’ll get better answers.”
“Block the door open until you’re sure,” Florian said, and went outside, leaving him, and Grant, Grant’s foot blocking the door from automatically shutting.
Paul came out first, in his nightrobe, Paul, looking as well‑groomed and civilized as usual. Jordan followed, much the same.
“Dad,” he said, “there’s an alarm on. You know that card you gave me? Patil’s dead. Thieu’s dead.”
Jordan stood there, raked a hand through his hair, didn’t say anything except, “Come in.”
Grant drew his foot from the door. It shut. Jordan was on his way to the couch. Paul was on his way to the bar.
“No drinks, thanks,” he said, and he and Grant sat down.
“I’ll have one,” Jordan said. “How did you get in?”
“Florian,” he said. Leveling with Jordan was the best policy, if it was something that obvious. “Sorry about that, but if they’re killing off people on Thieu’s social list, I wanted to be sure you were all right. What in hell’s going on?”
He had Jordan at rare disadvantage. And with a clank of glasses and two fast jets from the dispenser behind the bar, Paul was rapidly preparing a distraction.
“Dad.”
“Oh, cut the ‘Dad,’ boy.”
“Well, I try. I’m here. Patil called mebefore she died.”
“Florian’s out there?”
“I figured he wouldn’t add to the social setting. Yes, damned right I called security. Dr. Patil was upset. She wanted me to go down the hall and get you. She said she had my number and called me because she couldn’t get through to you.”
“Nice.” Jordan took the drink Paul handed him, had a sip. “So my own appeal couldn’t get you through my door, but you don’t mind bringing the little dear’s guards to burgle my apartment.”
“I was concerned for your safety. She was talking about somebody inside, Dad. Who would that be?”
“The possibilities are endless. Ari, some CIT–getting an azi past Reseune Supervisors wouldn’t be easy, but with inside help, who knows? Are we worried about assassins?”
“I’m worried for your safety. I’m worried for Grant’s and Paul’s. They didn’t ask to get involved in whatever crazy mess you’re in. Planys is a small place. Everybody knows everybody. Who would have killed an old man who didn’t have long to live anyway?”
“A long list of volunteers,” Jordan said, and took a drink of what looked like vodka. “The man was an insufferable egotist.”
Justin sat back against the couch, crossed one leg over the other. “I thought you were friends.”
“Society there is sparse.”
“Come on, Jordan. Tell me. What happened? I know you didn’t kill Ari. Everybody knows it. You were bitter, you wanted to strangle Denys, that didn’t happen, and you spent nearly twenty years in the company of a doddering old guy with an ego. That, I understand. But if this guy had associates that were getting to him past the security screen at PlanysLabs, where were they? How was Patil involved? Why were you carrying her card around? And why in bloody hell did you dump it on me?”
“So Ari’s got you asking her questions, has she?”
“I’m asking my own damn questions. I wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t shoved that card off on me, and if Patil hadn’t called me in the middle of the night a few minutes before someone shoved her out a twelfth‑story window–I call thatinvolvement. I call that a damned mess, and if you’ve got any key to Thieu’s goings‑on at Planys, I want it!”
“What? Afraid your nice career’s getting tarnished?”
“I’m afraid my father’s trying to tarnish it, thanks. I’m afraid my father’s decided to carry on a stupid war with a dead woman and can’t figure out what year it is!”
“Justin,” Grant said, a calm‑down.
Jordan grinned. “Got to you, did I?”
“It’s not a damn game!”
“Isn’t it? I don’t get out much lately. I need some amusement.”
“At my expense.”
“Anyway I can, son, anyway I can.”
“Oh, poor Jordan. Poor Jordan. I never thought you were a sympathy sponge. But that’s what you want. You want me to feel so sorry for you I’ll ask you what I can do to help you out. Well, hell!”
“You could ask Florian in for a drink.”
“Somehow I don’t think he will. He’s here to protect us both. And there will be guards. I’ll be real damned surprised if there aren’t guards dogging you down the halls, after this. So that’s what you won with this stupid stunt.”
“What stunt? The card? Did I pull the bandage off Reseune’s old sores’? Maybe they deserve airing.”
“Twenty years ago! Normal people don’t carry on a feud with a dead woman for twenty years, normal people don’t blame her daughter, normal people don’t try to get their own sons arrested for a damn joke!”
“You live with her. You never leave her.”
“She’s just a nice kid. You don’t give her a chance. No, you’ve got to play politics, and deadpolitics, at that. What have the Paxers got, since the War ended? Their war stopped, we’ve got the peace they wanted, and they’re still running around in back halls passing cryptic notes to each other and pasting up posters, what time they’re not blowing up children. The Centrists, hell, the lawwon’t let them mess up this planet–” Air went rarified. He didn’t doreal‑time work, but a woman had died tonight while she was talking to him, and he and Jordan were going to be closely guarded for the rest of their natural lives. So what the hell did it matter if Jordan got a year’s jump on what was going to go public anyhow? “You want the truth, Dad? I’m going to breach security right now and give you a name. Eversnow.”