“Because Reece was over here a couple of hours ago to see Madison about some work. And now we’ve got our own piece of that money, down in the basement, in a hole behind the furnace.”
“You do?”
“Not into wishful thinking. Not that much, anyway.”
“What for?”
“Help with a drone. Big one. Conner’s got an Army quadcopter he wants Madison to fly for him.”
Flynne remembered the thing in Conner’s yard. “I saw it,” she said. “Looked like a gun platform.”
“That money in the basement is more than Madison and I’d make out of a year of Sukhoi Flankers.” This obviously not making Janice happy.
“What did Reece say?”
“Too much, from Burton and Conner’s point of view. Not enough, from mine. He’s a groupie, Reece. Loves a secret, has to tell it or you won’t know he has it. So impressed with Burton and Conner that he’s got to tell you their business. Impressed with Pickett too.”
The only Pickett Flynne could think of was the one who’d owned Corbell Pickett Tesla, which had been the last new-car dealership in the county to shut down. He was assumed to still be the richest man in the county, although you didn’t see him much. She’d seen him a couple of times in town parades, but not for a few years now. He’d sent a daughter her age to school in Europe, and as far as Flynne knew she’d never come back. “Corbell Pickett?”
“Corbell fucking Pickett.”
“What’s he got to do with Burton and Conner?”
“Where it gets funny,” Janice said.
“You think the money comes from Corbell Pickett?”
“Shit no,” said Janice. “Burton’s paying a lot of that Clanton money to Corbell. Reece was all jacked up from getting to take it over there with Carlos. Needed two shopping bags, he kept saying.”
“Why was Burton paying Pickett?”
“Those four dead men, on Porter. Get ’em lost track of. They’d be lost track of pretty fast anyway, here in the county. State Police have a little longer attention span, but Corbell has the statehouse juice to get that span shortened too, for a price.”
“He used to own the Tesla dealership and ride with the mayor in the Christmas parade. When we were kids.”
“In a brand-new Tesla,” said Janice. “I hate to do the tooth fairy thing to you, honey, but nobody builds so much as a gram of drugs in this county without Corbell’s getting his.”
“No way. I’d have heard before now.”
“Thing is, you don’t know your family and friends have all been taking care of you, basically by never so much as mentioning the fucker’s name. Which is how you forget about him so easy.”
“You don’t like him,” said Flynne.
“No shit.”
“But if they’re paying off the Sheriff’s Department, that means Tommy knows.”
Janice looked at her. “Not so much.”
“He either knows or he doesn’t.”
“Tommy,” Janice said, “is a good person, like Madison is a good person. Trust me on that. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Like you’re a good person. But here you are, up to your tits in some deal with people who say they’re in Colombia, but can fix the state lottery for Leon? That’s seriously funny, Flynne, but does it make you less of a good person?”
“I don’t know.” And she realized that she didn’t.
“Girl, you are not doing this crazy shit, whatever it is, in order to make yourself rich. You’re paying the cancer rent for your mom, down at Pharma Jon. Just like a lot of people. Most people, it can feel like.”
“It’s not cancer.”
“I know it’s not. But you know what I mean. And Tommy, he’s keeping this county together the best he can. He’s honest, believes in the rule of law. Sheriff Jackman, that’s another story. Jackman does whatever he does, keeps getting reelected, and Tommy’s the law here. The county needs Tommy the way your mother needs you and Burton, and maybe sometimes that means he has to work a little harder not to notice things.”
“Why didn’t I know this before tonight?”
“People do you a kindness, keeping their mouths shut about that shit. Economy here’s been based on building since before we were in high school.”
“I did know, kind of. I guess.”
“Welcome to the county, hon. You want more coffee?”
“I think I might’ve had too much.”
38
After Dominika phoned Lev to come upstairs, Netherton returned to the doorway, to watch the peripheral doing resistance exercises in the exoskeleton. The muscles of the peripheral’s bare arms and thighs were really very highly defined. He wondered if they’d been printed that way.
Ash was out of his line of sight, having an argument with Ossian, who must be elsewhere. He knew that because he could only hear her side of it, which was in whatever current faux-Slavic iteration of their mutual crypto-language. He went to the closed bar, tried pressing his thumb against the steel oval. Nothing happened.
But now Ash appeared, carrying a large white ceramic vase of flowers past the silently straining peripheral and up the gangway. “You shouldn’t have,” he said, as she reached the top.
“She deserves a welcome,” she said, the pallor of her face contrasting with the bright flowers. “You can’t offer her a drink.”
Netherton felt an unexpected pang of empathy for the not quite graspable construct of Flynne inhabiting the peripheral. She wouldn’t be offered a drink either.
“Water, within hourly limits,” Ash said, mistaking his expression for one of concern for the peripheral. “There’s a dehydration alarm. But no alcohol.” She pushed past him with her flowers.
“When do we expect her?”
“Two hours, now,” said Ash, behind him.
“Two hours?” He turned. Ash was trying the vase of flowers in different positions on his desk.
“Macon’s very good,” she said.
“Make who?”
“Macon. Her printer, in the stub. He’s fast.”
“What sort of name is that?”
“A city. In Georgia. The American Georgia.” She was rearranging the flowers in their vase, a flock of distant beasts stampeding across the back of her left hand. “I’ll be here with you.”
“You will?”
“How long since you’ve used a peripheral?”
“I was ten,” said Netherton. “A homunculi party, on Hampstead Heath. A schoolmate’s birthday.”
“Exactly,” said Ash, swinging to face him, hands on hips. She was in her sincerity suit again. He remembered the stance of the homunculus, on the dashboard of Lev’s car.
“That was you,” he said, “wasn’t it, driving, to and from the other house?”
“Of course. And what will you tell her, when she arrives?”
“About what?”
“What this is,” she said. “Where it is. When it is. Isn’t that what we pay you for?”
“No one’s paying me anything, thank you.”
“Discuss that with Lev,” she said.
“I don’t regard this as a job. I’m here to support Lev.”
“She’ll have no idea what any of this is about. She’s never experienced a peripheral. You scarcely have yourself. All the more reason for me to be here.”
“Lev didn’t tell me she’d be here in two hours.”
“He doesn’t know,” she said. “Ossian only just learned. Lev is upstairs with his lady wife. We’re forbidden to phone him while he’s with her. When we do tell him, he’ll inform Lowbeer. I imagine she’ll advise us then. In the meantime, we’d best decide what to tell her if Lowbeer hasn’t weighed in.”
“Do you know what he’s up to, with Lowbeer? He won’t tell me.”
“Then he isn’t a complete idiot. Yet.”
“But this was her idea, bringing Flynne here, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Why?”
“Whatever it is, she’s in a hurry.” She touched a section of veneer. It opened. She adjusted controls. Netherton felt a slight breeze. “Stuffy,” she said.
“The office is supposed to be in Colombia.”
“They’ve air con in their Colombia, surely. Lowbeer wanted a variety of outfits for both of you. Some of them definitely aren’t for sitting in here. She’ll be seeing London. So will you.”