The Administration Series (220 page)

He'd never heard him seriously swearing before, either. "Yes, easily. Listen, do you think we could get to the point? Because I have a lot of work to do — the inspectors are reporting this afternoon, in case you didn't know."

"I've been suspended, which is why I'm wandering around like this." Payne brushed his hands over his shirt. "Suspended, pending a court-martial." His voice cracked.

"For fucking me? I thought the Service dropped that kind of thing decades back."

"No. For disobeying orders. Carnac's orders. For not telling him what I knew about your plans. For not reporting to headquarters. They've been questioning me all day — he's going to nail me with everything he can think of."

"So what does that have to do with whether anyone saw us or not?"

"Because when they dragged me out of bed this morning and put me in handcuffs and took me in, the bastards who did it made absolutely sure that Mary knew what I'd been doing. With you, that is — they didn't bother telling her about the rest of it. That I'd been . . . oh, Christ."

Payne sat down in a chair abruptly, and covered his face with his hands. "Oh, Christ," he repeated. "That I'd been unfaithful, and that it was with a man. Except they didn't put it quite like that, as you can probably imagine."

For sheer, bloody, beautifully arranged vindictiveness, you couldn't beat Carnac. Worrying, though, that he was still sniffing around the wreckage. Didn't the man know when he was beaten?

"How did she take it?" Toreth asked, mildly curious.

Payne looked up. "
Take
it? I haven't spoken to her. But when they finally let me go, I went home and found she'd changed the door codes and all my belongings were lying in a pile in the hall, so I'm guessing that she's just a little bit upset."

Toreth shrugged. "She might come round. They do, sometimes. Good luck with it all, anyway."

Payne stared at him. "Didn't you hear me? I'm going to be court-martialled, because I — because I helped you!"

"That's a shame. Nothing I can do about it, though."

"Val —"

"That's not my fucking name. Call me Toreth, if you have to call me anything other than Para."

Payne licked his lips. "What about us?"

"Us?" He always got a kick out of this part, no matter how tedious the rest of it was. "There isn't any 'us'. It was just a fuck, Payne, that's all."

Payne's expression changed slowly from desperation to horrified, unwilling comprehension. Eventually he managed, "Just a . . . ?"

"What else did you think it was? You're the one who said you were happily married." He smiled. "Past tense being the operative one now."

Payne took a few more seconds to pull himself together, but managed it with surprising aplomb. "I see. Yes. Well, thanks a lot, Para."

"My pleasure."

That earned another stare, then Payne said, "Carnac was right."

"He is, sometimes. But most of the time he's a lying, manipulative, ruthless bastard, and I'd keep that very clearly in mind if I were you."

"Whereas you —" He clenched his jaw, stopping the words. "I should tell him the rest, you know. I haven't told them who you asked me to take that message to."

It was always a mistake to let them sit down and start going on. "Payne, I fucked you because I like brunets, and because it's a pleasure to walk down a corridor behind you, but mostly because at the time I badly needed you to keep your mouth shut. At the time."

He rested his elbows on the desk and leaned forwards. "And do you know why it worked? Because when Carnac picked you out and gave you to me he knew you were gagging for it and that you'd back me up to the hilt with your bosses so that you could keep getting it. He
knew
."

Payne looked away. When he finally forced himself to look back, Toreth continued.

"You behaved exactly how he predicted. Then you went a bit further than he wanted and now he's spanking you for it, because he's like that. He's a cunt. Don't think that you're going to get any favours from him, and don't think he doesn't already know everything you know, and a lot more. Tell him whatever you like — frankly, I don't give a fuck either way."

"And that's it?"

"That's it. If you want some advice, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and take it from him like a good little lieutenant. He's like Sara's fucking cat — if you put up a fight you'll only keep him interested." And like Sara's cat, he'll probably finish you off anyway, because he's a bastard. "Now, piss off. Like I said, I'm busy."

Payne stood up, pale but under tight control. Looked good on him.

"I hope . . . I hope Carnac finds some time left over from screwing me into the ground to think up something to do to you, because I bet he can come up with something you
deserve
. And if he doesn't, I just hope you fucking die."

A good exit line, which he made the most of, closing the door quietly this time.

Toreth tried to get back to work, but ten minutes later found himself standing by the window, looking out. They were finally replacing some of the broken windows, and from time to time shards of glass showered silently down into the courtyard.

What were the odds of Carnac simply writing this one off? Given that they were negligible, what was he going to do?

Before he had had too long to think about that unpleasant prospect, the door opened again and Sara said, "It's time."

Carnac arrived early for the inspectors' verdict, although there was little point in doing so. There was certainly no chance of inducing a last-minute change of heart in the inspection team. He'd tried that yesterday evening, when he'd spoken to as many of them as he could contact. His attempts to suggest that perhaps a professional body made up in large part of sociopaths was unlikely to experience such a sudden conversion to humanitarian ideals had been received with polite incomprehension.

He'd chosen them so carefully, for their previously criminally liberal attitudes, and he now reaped what he had sown.

The tiers of seats filled quickly. At the front he could see Sara, with Chevril beside her. Others sat nearby whom he recognised from Doral's comprehensive betrayal. They all looked nervous. God only knew why, because it should be obvious even to a moron what the result would be.

News of the inspection had spread through the building yesterday, and everyone who could be was here. Soon the large lecture theatre was packed to capacity, and he overheard Toreth in consultation with Bevan, deciding which additional rooms would be best for live feeds.

Of course. They'd make certain no one would miss out on this.

Once it began, Toreth stood beside him on the platform, listening to the verdict with solemn attentiveness. Only once did the facade crack — when the head of the inspectors began to praise Carnac's personal contribution, using the exact same phrases Toreth had used the day before. That drew one cough, which couldn't possibly have been a laugh. When the inspector paused for the audience to show their appreciation, Toreth applauded along with them enthusiastically, leaning in towards him.

"Do you think they've got a medal ready for you, you cunt?" he asked through a broad, friendly smile.

For the last ten minutes, Carnac survived only by blocking out every word and staring fixedly at the back rows of the audience, high up and far away, where he couldn't distinguish faces and so didn't have to see the growing delight.

Finally, the torture was over — or rather, it moved to a different level.

How quickly he'd picked up the jargon, he thought sourly, as the assembled I&I staff began to clap once more.

Applause, and more applause, with the inspection team looking so gratified that he wanted to kill them all.

It took him some time to get away from the crowd, although it wasn't all congratulations and praise. Major Bell was one of the first to reach him. She looked as disgusted as he felt.

"Now I see why you froze me out in time for the inspection," she said.

"I'm sorry?"

"These reforms, impressive as they undoubtedly are, weren't quite what the Service had in mind for I&I. Pulling the teeth of Interrogation? In the current climate? Still, I suppose you've made plenty of friends." She gestured to the civilian inspectors, currently in conversation with Toreth and Bevan.

"Yes, I suppose I have."

To his surprise, she didn't seem to notice the despair in his voice. "I hope for your sake it proves to be a lasting friendship."

"Somehow, I doubt it," he said without thinking, wanting nothing more than to get out of the room while still in control of his emotions.

Now Bell looked at him closely, frowning. "This wasn't your idea?"

With an effort, he pulled himself together, bringing up his professional mask. "I plan for the long term, Major. What happens here this week, or this month, is of less importance than the future of the Administration in the years to come. Whether the Council retains its precise current composition or not, I think you will find that it is a civilian future, not a military one."

He smiled thinly, gaining only a little satisfaction from the confusion on Bell's face, quickly followed by a flicker of alarm. That should give her something interesting to report to her superiors. She made her excuses hurriedly and disappeared into the crowd, glancing back over her shoulder once before he lost sight of her.

As he turned to go, one of the inspection team caught his arm and drew him forwards into another conversation he desperately didn't want. It took fifteen minutes before he finally managed to escape, and afterwards he couldn't recall anything they had talked about.

Eventually, he left the stage, stumbling on the steps, horrified to find his vision blurred and his throat tight. Stopping in the corridor, he leaned against the wall, fighting for control, no longer caring what any witnesses might think.

The inspectors and the last of I&I staff who had not been privy to the plan in advance filtered out of the room and down the corridor. A reception of some kind had been laid on in one of the canteens. Carnac couldn't bear to go with them. If one more person patted his back, he was certain that he would vomit. He lingered outside the scene of his victorious humiliation, listening to the medley of excited conversations within. The conspirators, hyped with relief at their reprieve, were reliving the event in gruesome detail.

"Did you see his face?"

"And then when that head wanker from Int-Sec said — "

"What do you think about my stupid bloody plan
now
, then?"

" — the look on his face? Like he was sucking a fucking lemon."

"'A truly remarkable achievement'. I thought you were going to
die
up there."

"Bunch of bleeding hearts. I can't believe they swallowed it."

"But Toreth, you were standing behind him half the time. You couldn't see his face — "

"'Continue your highly valued contribution to the unity of Europe'. And Mike said, 'Is he talking about us?' and I nearly — "

"How I didn't laugh, I'll never know, I swear to God."

"Did you see the look on his
face
?" Sara's voice topped the others by sheer delighted volume. "Oh, God, I thought he was going to choke."

"I saw him," Toreth said. Carnac heard an exuberant kiss, and Sara yelped. "I saw him. Best day of my fucking life. I hope Bev got the whole fucking thing recorded."

"Free copies for everyone," Bevan said. He was laughing — they all were. Well, Carnac supposed that they had earned their celebration. It had been excellently planned and executed, he had to admit that.

"Are we going out later, then?" Chevril asked. There was a pause, before he added in significant tones, "I'll get the first round in."

From the chorus of disbelief and abuse that greeted the statement, this would be something of a novelty. However, there seemed to be general agreement with the idea, and the starting venue of 'the usual place' was proposed and accepted.

The usual place. I&I vermin drinking their way around the city tonight, and every night for the foreseeable future. In that future, on the levels below him, prisoners — human beings — would scream and plead futilely for their lives, and die in unimaginable pain.

He'd tried his best to destroy I&I, and he hadn't been good enough. Perhaps he had hated too much. Hatred had cleared his vision enough to see past the years of conditioning to the service of the Administration. It had given him the courage to risk his life to change things. However, in the end, hatred had distorted his perceptions and led him to underestimate them.

His errors. His failure. Beaten by these psychopathic scum.

They began to leave the room, passing him without a glance, or with expressions of open contempt. Comments and laughter drifted back to him down the corridor as he tried to decide whether the failure or the lack of respect hurt the most.

"What's wrong with you?" Sara asked from inside the room. For a moment he thought she was talking to him, then Toreth answered her.

"I can't make it tonight. I've got to see Warrick."

"Oh, come on. It won't be the same without you. Can't you wait until tomorrow?"

"No. I don't need him any more pissed off with me than he is already."

"God, listen to who's well bloody whipped."

"Fuck off, Chev. As if you'd take a shit without Elena's written fucking permission."

"I've told you before —"

"All right, all right." Sara, placating. "Look, why don't you come out to the bar at least? Then we'll slope off at tennish, when everyone moves on to the club. We can take a bottle of something. I'll say hello, break the ice, and then I'll go back to the party and you can kiss and make up."

"I was planning on fucking and making up, but yeah, sounds okay."

Chevril made a revolted noise. "God, you two."

Toreth laughed, good humour restored. "You still owe me a date, Chev. Your cock, my arse. Don't think I'm going to forget about it."

"I was bloody delirious when I said that, and that doesn't bloody count."

The voices began to move towards the door, so Carnac retreated down the corridor, watching them leave from the concealment of a doorway.