Coming of Age (14 page)

“Three times straight,” Tonio told him with obvious satisfaction. “It was the eyes and cheekbones, she said, and the fake beard didn't hide those features.”

“Maybe she was reacting to the retouching on the other pictures,” Weylin Ellery suggested from the corner. “Hypnotized people notice details like that.”

Tirrell shook his head. “Our artist knows his job. The copy that still looks like Jarvis has touch-up lines over the originals.”

“All right.” Paxton tossed the stack of paper onto his desk and leaned back in his chair. “But evidence obtained under hypnosis isn't admissible—you know that.”

“Of course. But it should be good enough to get those radiophone direction finders I wanted two days ago.”

Paxton's expression was that of a man whose shoes were too tight. “Yeah. Yeah, I'll talk to the chief about it.” But he made no move toward the phone. “I don't know, though—the whole thing's ridiculous. Why would Matthew Jarvis, of all people, go out and kidnap someone? Or are you going to tell me he's popped his stopper?”

“No, I don't think so,” Tirrell said slowly. “I think he's doing some sort of experiment out there, something he doesn't want anyone to know about.”

Weylin chuckled. “You make him sound like one of those crazy scientists you see sometimes in hive monster movies,” he said. “I quit believing those when I was ten.”

Tonio turned irritably toward the other preteen, but Tirrell spoke up before his righthand could say anything. “Of course he's not crazy; I almost wish it were that simple. I think it's probably much worse—that he's stumbled onto something so explosive he doesn't even want hints of it leaking out.”

“Like what?” Paxton snorted.

Tirrell hesitated. It wasn't a theory he wanted to toss around too freely, especially if it turned out to be true. But Paxton was still dragging his feet on Tirrell's radiophone detector request. Perhaps a good shaking up would help. “I think Jarvis is fiddling with the Transition point,” he said bluntly. “He's stockpiled a supply of growth and puberty hormones; he's apparently taken several critical lab books into hiding with him; and if he's got Colin Brimmer with him, he's got a human test subject to work on. And if we don't get busy and find him, he could knock the props out from under the whole society.”

“Holy Mother,” Paxton muttered, forehead corrugating into an intense frown. “You think he might find a way to knock out teekay entirely?”

“Or push it past puberty, or make it stronger, or add telepathy or heaven knows what to the ability,” Tirrell countered. “How the hell should
I
know what he's up to? But we'd better find out, and fast.”

“Yeah.” Paxton brought his feet back to the floor with a crash and picked up the papers Tonio had brought. “Let's go see Chief Li. If we hurry we can probably get your direction finders set up by Saturday night. That fast enough for you?”

Tirrell nodded as he and Tonio stood and let Paxton walk between them to the office door. “Let's hope so,” he said as they fell into step behind the other detective. Now, perhaps, they'd make some real progress.

W
ITH A FLOURISH, GAVRA
Norward signed the last piece of paper and dropped it into the box on her desk. Leaning back, she permitted herself a tired smile as she glanced at her watch. Four o'clock Friday—the end of a long day at the end of a long week; and by some combination of luck and skill all of the hive's paperwork was finished and she had the rest of the evening free. It was hard to believe; in her twenty years as Girls' Senior at Dayspring she'd had perhaps two dozen such Fridays, despite a solemn promise to herself to leave that evening free.
Someone will probably throw up at dinner,
she told herself with whimsical pseudo-cynicism.
Maybe I should leave now and forget to take a beeper.

She was in the process of stowing her pens and note pads in their desk drawer when someone knocked on her open door. Looking up, she saw Allan Gould, Dayspring's Director, peering around the jamb. “Got a minute, Gavra?”

Gavra sighed inwardly.
Good-bye, Friday night,
she told herself. Aloud, she said, “Of course.”

Gould stepped into the office, and only then did Gavra realize the Director wasn't alone. A small, balding man entered on his heels, closing the door behind him. Gould gestured at him as the two men sat down in front of the Senior's desk. “Gavra, this is Raife Jung, assistant Men's Senior at the Lee Introductory School across town. Gavra Norward, our Girls' Senior.”

They exchanged nods. “What can I do for you?” Gavra asked.

“I'm afraid we're here on rather serious business,” Jung said, his tone and manner more than a shade on the pompous side. Opening a small folder, he extracted three photos and slid them across the desk. “I believe you will recognize both the preteen and what she is doing.”

The pictures, obviously taken at one of Barona's power stations, were of only fair quality, but even so Gavra had no trouble identifying Lisa Duncan. And she was holding— “Is that a
book?
”

“It is indeed,” Jung said. “Actually, there are two different books shown: lessons seven and eight of Walker's
Elementary Reading.
The photos were taken Nultday and Wednesday of this week.”

Gavra impaled Gould with her eyes. “And you waited until now to tell me?”

Gould shrugged uncomfortably. “We wanted to have all the facts before we said anything. One of the technicians at the power station spotted Lisa reading a book with the Lee Intro logo on it a week ago Wednesday. He contacted me, I contacted Mr. Jung, and it turned out the evening door checker remembered a Daryl Kellerman leaving that evening with a book. We followed him this Wednesday and observed the exchange.”

Gavra returned her attention to the photos, struggling to adjust her mind to this sudden revelation and to fight down the chill it caused within her. Of all her preteens Lisa was probably the last one she would have suspected of something this insidious … and yet, in retrospect, it fit Lisa's personality remarkably well. She'd always tended to fight her battles with brains and skill instead of with brute force; and Transition, after all, was a preteen's biggest battle. And for Lisa, unlike some of the others, it would be an intensely private one, as well. The flicker of paranoia within her damped out and she looked back up at Jung. “All right,” she said. “So what do you want me to do about it?”

Jung blinked in obvious surprise. “I want Duncan punished, of course. She should be told in no uncertain terms that this sort of activity is not allowed, and then be docked some points or have some privileges taken away.
And
we want the book back.”

Gavra glanced at Gould. His expression was as set in concrete as Jung's. The specters of the past were formidable shapers of both opinion and policy; and their influence, as she'd just found out, wasn't totally lost even on those who should know better.

All the more reason,
she thought suddenly,
to inject some logic into this. And damn the torpedoes.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Jung,” she said quietly, “but I cannot punish someone who hasn't broken any rules.”

Jung's eyes saucered in astonishment and he actually sputtered. “Broken any
rules?
” he finally managed. “Just what do you call—”

“Dayspring Hive has no rule that forbids kids and preteens to read,” she interrupted him. “For that matter, I defy you to show me
any
law—on city
or
Tigrin books—that makes reading illegal.”

“What about the Education Code?” Jung shot back. “Or the Uniform Library Use Acts?”

“Those specify who can teach reading and what books may be lent to whom,” she said. “The burden in both cases is on the adult, not the kid. I'm sure you can make a case against Daryl Kellerman—”
probably already have,
she added to herself—“but Lisa is legally blameless.”

There was a moment of silence as Jung seemed to fall back and regroup. Gould stepped in to fill the gap. “Don't you think, though, that letting Lisa get away with something like this will at the very least set a bad precedent?”

“For whom?” she countered. “From the evidence you've shown me Lisa seems to be keeping all this well under wraps. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that punishing her would set a more disastrous example. You'd be surprised how many kids will knock themselves out to try anything that they've been specifically told not to do.

“All right,” Jung said irritably. “What do
you
propose we do, then?”

“Nothing, aside from the obvious. You'll want to transfer Daryl Kellerman to another school, of course, to break things off where they are.”

“We've already done that,” Jung said. “But never mind Kellerman. I want to hear your idea of what to do with Duncan.”

“I already told you: nothing,” Gavra said. “She's not likely to be able to find another tutor in the few months she's got left before Transition. She'll start school reading above her level, but you're stuck with that anyway.”

“Ms. Norward.” Jung's voice dripped bits of ice. “You don't seem to realize the potential problems this situation presents. Ever since the Lost Generation the stability of society on Tigris has depended on the adults retaining exclusive control of knowledge.
Exclusive
control. The kids already have most of the physical power; if they were allowed to learn all the ways to use that power, the entire system could collapse into anarchy.”

“I'm familiar with the facts and arguments,” Gavra said stiffly, annoyed at being lectured. “And I'd like to remind you—
both
of you—that I'm more familiar with the actual psychology of these kids than either of you. Most of them are totally uninterested in starting into the perceived drudgery of school before it's forced on them. Lisa is an exceptional case. Even if she wanted to set up the sort of secret reading lessons I imagine you're worried about, she'd get few if any preteens to join her.”

“Oh, of course,” Jung said sarcastically. “Naturally, you know better than the men and women who laid down these guidelines.”

“They were living within memory of the Lost Generation's chaos,” Gould murmured, unexpectedly coming to Gavra's support. “The two-tiered society's been stable for nearly two centuries now, with the kids' position clearly defined for them. That kind of tradition's hard to break.”

“Besides which, kids aren't just small adults, no matter what responsibilities and power they have,” Gavra added. “They generally lack the discipline to pass up an immediate pleasure in favor of a more distant one—otherwise you'd have a lot more pre-teens working to earn extra points than actually do so. Most would rather spend as much time as possible flying or otherwise having fun, especially as they get closer to Transition.”

“Spare me the psychology review,” Jung said acidly … but there was a note of resignation in his voice, and Gavra knew she'd won. Temporarily, anyway. “What about the Walker book she still has? Or do you want to argue about
that,
too?”

“We'll do our best to get it back,” Gavra told him. “But again, I don't want to make a major fuss over taking it away from her.”

“As you choose. But remember that the book is the property of Lee Intro—and if we don't get it back soon, we would be within the law to bring theft charges against Duncan.”

“Understood,” Gavra said tiredly. The charge wouldn't stick for ten minutes, but she didn't want to put Lisa through that kind of trauma, and Jung obviously knew it. “I'll get you the damn book.”

“Good.” Jung got to his feet, shifted his glare from Gavra to Gould and back again. “Well. You've both been rather less than cooperative—I hope you're properly satisfied. I think you should know that I intend to go directly to the police from here and give them the whole story.”

“Go right ahead,” Gavra nodded. She'd anticipated this gambit, and while it sounded impressive, there really wasn't a lot the police could or would do at this stage except circulate Lisa's name and photo among the officers. “It'll be good for them to have the background in case some sort of problem
does
develop,” she added, hoping her admission of such a possibility would mollify Jung somewhat.

It had little if any of the desired effect. Nodding stiffly to her, his mouth a tightly compressed line, Jung left the room. Gould threw her a glance too quick to interpret and hurried after him.

Sighing, Gavra got to her feet and followed the same path … but only as far as the outer office and the file cabinets therein. Unlocking the proper one, she began sorting through the D's. Jung might be back later, but for the moment he was at least reasonably convinced that Lisa wasn't going to put her newly acquired skill to a dangerous use.

Now all Gavra had to do was convince herself of the same thing.

Withdrawing the thick file labeled
Lisa Duncan,
she glanced at her watch. She could do a quick survey of the preteen's record in the half hour that remained before dinner time. And for the more careful study that would be required … well, she had all evening.

Grumbling under her breath, Gavra tucked the file under her arm and trudged back into her office.

The wind rustling the trees had, over the past hour, changed from a pleasant, soothing sound to one filled with foreboding. Twisting her wrist toward the nearest streetlight, Lisa peered at her watch for probably the tenth time in the hour she'd been waiting in the little park. Three minutes after seven. Daryl was over an hour late.

Getting up from the bench, Lisa began to pace restlessly, her eyes probing the inky shadows that writhed like wounded animals as the trees swayed. Her emotions had already passed from annoyance to anger to concern, and were beginning to edge into genuine panic. After six weeks of regular thrice-weekly meetings, he
couldn't
have simply forgotten to show up, and as the minutes ticked slowly by her imagination generated increasingly terrifying reasons for his absence.