The Administration Series (116 page)
In the end, all he could think of was, "Without the game. Just us."
Which sounded unbelievably stupid, said out loud. Luckily, Warrick didn't seem to think so because he smiled, warm and genuine.
"I can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."
Sara stared at the cracks in the ceiling and tried to stay awake. Even though the pain medication made her drowsy, she didn't want to sleep. First thing in the morning she'd had the most horrible nightmare. She'd woken up, and then thrown up, and then, fortunately not long afterwards, her mother had arrived and stayed until lunchtime.
Calming her mother down had helped keep her calm.
Now she was on her own again, for the afternoon. Not for very long. There would be friends arriving once work was over. Her sister was coming for the evening. All she had to do was stay awake and think about something else and she'd be fine.
Someone knocked at the door.
"Come in," she said.
She expected another medic, wanting to ask her another lot of questions. To her surprise, it was Toreth, only partially visible behind an enormous bunch of white flowers. He stopped inside the doorway and stared at her, clearly appalled.
"Sara? Jesus fucking Christ. You look like you've been answering questions over at Justice."
"Great. Thanks for that." She edged up on the pillows and tried to smile without stretching her lips. "It looks worse than it is, honest. I'm only in bed because I was knocked out for a while; I'm not supposed to go wandering around unsupervised, in case I fall over and sue the hospital."
He came over and put the flowers down on the bed. Getting a closer look at them, she couldn't help laughing, even though it hurt her ribs. "They're lilies."
"What?"
"The flowers." She stroked the thick, velvety petals. "Lilies are for funerals." Maybe it wasn't so funny, at that.
"Are they? Damn." He grinned, looking almost sheepish. "Sorry."
"It doesn't matter — they're lovely. I'll get someone to put them in some water. It's really nice of you to come," she added as she rang for a nurse.
He shrugged. "There's the safety meeting this afternoon, which is going to win awards for boredom. And since my admin didn't turn up for work and her desk is a mess, I couldn't find the crap for it, anyway."
Her desk was nothing of the kind, and besides, she'd transferred the files to him yesterday. Only yesterday. "Memo me."
"I'll let you off."
He sat down by the bed, looking her over more assessingly. She'd explained most of it to him that morning when she'd called work, and she felt relieved that she wouldn't have to go through it all again. That was the bad thing about visitors, medical or otherwise.
"What happened to your hand?" he asked when the nurse had come and gone.
He had an unerring eye for the worst injuries. She looked down at the bandaging, feeling strangely reluctant to tell him. "It's fine. It's, well . . . he gave me a ring. I don't know if you noticed it? Antique. Nice. It belonged to his grandmother or something. Or that's what he told me." As she continued talking, the words came more easily. "He said that while I was wearing it, I was his. Yeah, I know, how moronic was I to think that was sweet. Possessive fucking maniac. That's what set him off. Said he'd seen me looking at someone else. I told him he didn't own me and he could stick his money if he thought he could buy me."
She rubbed her temple, wincing as she caught a bruise. "Christ, I must have had my brain switched off."
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Toreth fidgeting slightly in his chair. Really, she knew better than to expect him to sit patiently through too much of this kind of stuff. But it was an unexpected relief to say it all to someone who would sit and almost listen, and not get hysterical or feel obliged to comment.
"Anyway. When he stopped . . . before he left, he took it back. The ring. Only it was rather a tight fit and some bits of my finger went with it. They're doing something to it tomorrow. An operation. But don't worry, it's fine, honestly." Anger bubbled up suddenly — anger with herself for saying that, because it wasn't fine at all, none of it was.
"I'm sorry," she said, as she started to cry.
He handed tissues over from the box by the bed and waited until she was done, silent and wonderfully unembarrassed.
"Stupid. I was so stupid," she said eventually, staring at the crumpled tissues in her hand. "I should've seen it. Bastard didn't like him."
Toreth sighed. "Sara, that fucking cat hates everyone in the world except you."
"And Daedra told me what he was like. I thought she was just being a bit off because when I met him at first he was still with her sister. He seemed so . . . it's all my own stupid bloody fault. I was an idiot. I — "
"Did you call Justice?" he asked, interrupting.
"No." She sniffed, and sighed. "I thought about it. Mum wanted me to. But there's no point. His dad's some important corporate. Lots of friends, lots of money. They'd investigate and there'd be no case. You know how it works."
He nodded. "Who is he?"
She hesitated, understanding what he was offering with the question. Asking her permission, maybe, because it would be dangerous, and it might only make things worse. Maybe she shouldn't . . .
Then the memory of her terror came back, very nearly sharp enough to make her sick again. The bruises didn't matter. It was the helplessness — nothing she could have done then, and nothing she could do now. The sound of him laughing at her as she slid into unconsciousness, her last clear thought being the certainty that he would kill her before she came round.
Laughing because he knew no one could touch him. Because his money
could
buy her, one way or another. Because if he wanted to hurt her again there was nothing she could do to stop it.
"Jonny. Jon Kemp. He's a student. I don't know where he lives." She cursed her stupidity again, silently, because she should have known. Normal, safe people didn't hide things like that. "Daedra might know."
He nodded again. "He hit you?"
What the hell did he
think
had happened? "I didn't walk into a door twenty times."
"No," he said levelly. "I mean, that's all he did?"
"Oh." She swallowed down the rising nausea. "Yes. Nothing else."
"Right." He stood up. "I have to get back to work. I'll see you tomorrow."
Warrick was on his way out of his office when reception called to say that Toreth wanted to see him. He checked his watch, sighed, and told them to send him up. He sat on the edge of the desk, tapping his fingers impatiently, until the door opened.
"You're lucky you caught me. I've got a meeting with — " The sentence died out as he registered Toreth's expression. 'Grim' didn't do it justice. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He closed the door. "Except that I need you to do me a favour, and not ask me what it's about." Anger, but not directed at him. It was focused elsewhere and under tight control.
Warrick considered briefly. He had the feeling that if he asked, Toreth would tell him. On balance, though, he decided that Toreth deserved at least that much trust from him. "All right, I'll do my best. No guarantees."
"I need an address for a Jon Kemp. He's a student at the university, probably History or Art, possibly lives somewhere in the new development north of campus. Rich corporate father."
A trivial question, if it hadn't been for his tone of voice. "You can't find this out at I&I because . . . ?"
Toreth frowned, but answered anyway. "Because then there'll be a record of the enquiry and I don't want to be connected to him. And, if you can, I'd like to know if there's any internal video security wherever he lives, and if he lives alone."
Warrick felt his eyebrows go up before he could keep the surprise from showing. Toreth started to say something, but he cut him off. "Give me ten minutes."
Toreth stood behind him, humming tunelessly and irritatingly, while he ran the searches. Warrick didn't think it was worth asking him to shut up.
"There you go," he said eventually. "Small house on the edge of the development. Do you want me to write the address down?"
"I'll remember it."
"No other occupants listed, for what that's worth. And according to the insurance details, there's no video inside. Odd, considering how expensive it is."
"Probably doesn't want daddy finding out the kind of thing he gets up to." Flat and cold.
Curiosity kicked in again, but he'd said he wouldn't ask, so he wouldn't. "Anything else?"
"No. And you — "
"Never looked at the files. Never even heard the name."
"Right." He paused in the doorway on the way out. "I might not come round tonight, after all. It depends. But I'd like to be there, if it's possible."
Warrick nodded, understanding the oblique request. "No problem. Thanks for letting me know."
Even though he was late, Warrick stayed at his desk for a minute, looking at the closed door and wondering. It would be nice to know what Toreth was up to, beyond the obvious conclusion of it being illegal and very likely dangerous.
Then he carefully erased the records of his enquiries and went off to his meeting.
As dusk fell, a patch of rather prickly bushes provided Toreth with an uncomfortable changing room on the northern edge of the university campus. The under-the-counter Justice uniform had cost him a large favour at the I&I stores. He'd added a pair of thin leather gloves to the outfit. They weren't a normal part of the uniform, but they wouldn't be too conspicuous.
He folded his own clothes into the bag he'd brought the uniform in and hid it under a pile of leaves. It should be safe enough until he got back — this shouldn't take long.
The pleasant and obviously expensive development was within easy walking distance of the university, but still nicely insulated from the less salubrious areas where most students lived. Tall terraced houses, some split into flats, surrounded courtyards with areas of well-tended grass and even parking spaces for private vehicles; just the right sort of place to look for a spoiled corporate brat who thought he could get away with a little assault and battery.
A spoiled corporate brat who'd find out that he'd picked the wrong fucking woman this time.
He activated the comm at the address provided by Warrick, and offered a highly unofficial Justice ID to be scanned and authenticated. The first risk was that Jonny would tell him to come back tomorrow, when he would have a lawyer ready for him. Toreth hoped he was too arrogant to be frightened by some Justice nobody. He wouldn't want his father to hear what he'd been doing if he could help it. Not good for the corporate image, even if they would be able to bury it.
Now it all depended on whether Jonny was alone. To Toreth's relief, it was Jonny who appeared on the screen. Or at least the man matched Daedra's description of wavy dark hair, olive complexion and dark, long-lashed eyes. Attractive, Toreth would have said under other circumstances.
If he answered his own door, that was promising. Keeping his face in shadow, Toreth said, "Officer Pat Vardon, Justice Department. I'd like to speak to Jon Kemp, please."
"Come in, Officer," Jonny said, and unlocked the door. The fine edge of contempt he gave the title made Toreth grit his teeth.
Once inside, Toreth closed the door, slid home the security chain, and waited in the hall until Jonny appeared on the stairs. "This way, Officer."
On the way upstairs, Toreth assessed his target. Tall, well built. He made a couple of modifications to the plan, but he still felt confident he could handle him without too much trouble. Jonny led him into a living room — small but expensively furnished, Toreth noted on an automatic sweep — and still they'd met no one and heard no sounds from elsewhere in the house.
"What can I do for you?" Jonny asked, without offering him a seat.
"A complaint of assault has been made by a young woman, sir, against your good self," Toreth said in his best Justice Department manner.
"Oh?" Not fear. Not guilt. Just insolent questioning and something very close to amusement. Jonny rubbed the back of his right hand absently, and Toreth could see the bruises on his knuckles, faint but unmistakable. He decided not to bother with the rest of the questions, except for the important one.
"Are you alone in the house at the moment?" Toreth asked.
Surprise slid into suspicion on Jonny's face even as he said, "Yes. Why?"
On that, Toreth moved, quickly and confidently. After a struggle almost too brief to qualify as one, Toreth held him pinned easily against a wall. They were much the same height and weight, but training and technique won out, just as he'd expected they would.
"This is your lucky day," Toreth said conversationally, as Jonny swore and twisted futilely. "You hurt a friend of mine. So I'm going to hurt you. But because I asked her a question and she said 'yes', I'm not going to kill you. Do you feel lucky yet?"