03. The Maze in the Mirror (16 page)

Voorhes just gave me an odd smile and said nothing in reply.

5.

Rounding Up the Usual Suspects

I was dead tired, but I had trouble sleeping that night. It was neither the heat nor humidity nor the strangeness of the surroundings, but more my own situation that bothered me. I had expected that they wanted me for some reason; I hadn't expected a murder, and I certainly hadn't expected the way they trapped me with a moral dilemma. I had no doubt at all that they would in fact nuke some major city or precipitate a major war just to get at me, and they were dead on that I would never accept the responsibility for that.

I was also keenly aware of a double mission here, at least, and a sort of personal ethical problem. Once I solved their problem-if I could- they would hardly let me go with a pat on the head. On purely pragmatic grounds, once I solved it I was dead meat. I couldn't really stall on it, though; they'd have people and monitors all over me and I knew it. If I solved it, I was dead. If I didn't solve it, they would eventually lose patience and, well, same result.

As important was whether or not I could solve the other mystery of how they expected, within a year, to destroy the Company and shut down the Labyrinth. The coincidence of the murder of their security chief just after the report, and, I assumed,
the go-ahead vote, on that was too big to ignore. Somebody, at least one of them, didn't agree with that decision and that action. Eliminating the nerve center first, the man who would be most likely to be able to catch them, was the obvious move of somebody in that case. Pandross knew them all, personally and intimately, for many years, and with his personal involvement and his computers and monitors he would have been the most likely man to finger an opponent, particularly one ready to kill one or more of their own.

There was every possibility that he smelled something and actually invited his killer up to talk about it, secure in his lair. The mere invitation would make it a "him or me" situation, and would have precipitated the murder. That was a very interesting idea.

O.K., sure, it might have been something petty, some long-standing grudge, some romantic triangle, any of the usual motives, but I leaned towards the vote and the murder as just too close to separate. Voorhes hadn't been wrong about the seductiveness of power, even in a rebel opposition. It would be interesting to know which of the nine had spoken out against the plan, if any, even in a devil's advocate role.

I finally did manage some sleep, and when I awakened it was to the smell of good things cooking and strong coffee. I pulled on my wrinkled clothes as best I could and wandered out into the house itself.

I expected to see Voorhes or perhaps the native girls in the rather primitive kitchen, and was very surprised to see a young woman as out of place
here as I or Voorhes there instead. She was clad in a very scanty string bikini over which she'd draped a full apron to protect her from the spattering.

She was tall, lean, and dark-complected, with jet-black hair cut very short in a man's style, and her features were kind of hard to figure. Sort of a South American United Nations, although it went together quite well. Brazilian, perhaps, or from someplace where Brazil didn't exist but the same racial mix had created a rather attractive new race that was equal parts European, black, and Indian.

She turned to me and smiled for a moment, then went back to her cooking. It was hot as hell in the kitchen and I couldn't stand it for long and didn't know how she could, even dressed like that.

"Hello," she said to me. "I am Maria. Senhor Voorhes is in the station now but will be back any minute. Please go into the living room or out on the porch. It will be cooler to eat out there."

Portuguese accent, certainly, but a nice command of English. I shrugged, then asked, "What do they use for a bathroom in this place?"

"Outhouse out back," she told me. "Use the water pitcher and bowl in the bedroom for freshening up. The outhouse, it stinks terribly, so you will spend no more time in there than you must."

Well, I must, so I went out, walked around, found it, and found that if anything she'd flattered it. The insects around that thing were just enormous, and once inside the smell was enough to make you want to throw up. I was very happy I had to go before I'd eaten any breakfast; the question was whether or not I would be able to eat after relieving myself.

I made it out and got away fast, then took many deep breaths just to get the stench out as best I could, and went back up to the house. I hadn't even paid any attention to the pitcher and bowl; now I saw it did indeed have tepid water in it and there was a washcloth, small towel, and a few minimal toiletries on a small shelf underneath. I used them as best I could, trying to make myself as presentable as possible, then went back out and onto the porch. The freshening had done wonders; I was starting to be able to feel hungry again.

Out on the porch, Maria or somebody had set a table that looked quite nice. Netting had been lowered giving us some imperfect protection from the insects, and the table was actually set with china, real silver, ceramic cups, and some kind of flower in water in the center. There was a pitcher of some sort of juice already out that felt cold, and I poured some and sipped, then drank heavily of it. I didn't recognize the fruit, but it was sweet and it tasted really good.

Even so, I was beginning to realize just how spoiled and civilized I'd become in these past few years. I hadn't had nightmares of my position or responsibility during the night, but I had dreamed again and again of air conditioning.

I sat back and looked at the river and was surprised to hear a motorboat. I turned and saw it-pretty traditional rowboat with an outboard motor attached coming slowly up river towards the dock. Voorhes was the only occupant. This morning he was dressed in khaki shirt and shorts and wore one of those silly-looking hard bush hats.

He pulled up to the dock, cut the motor, jumped up onto the dock and tied off the boat to a stake
embedded in the stone. Then he came up to the porch, unzipped the netting, and stepped inside.

"Good morning!" he said pleasantly. "I trust you slept well."

"I slept lousy. Hotter than hell with humidity matching the temperature and almost no breeze has never been one of my favorite conditions. Remember, I was in snow yesterday."

The rebel shrugged. "Well, each to his own. You've met Maria?"

"Only briefly. She's not local."

"No, she came in earlier this morning. You will get to know her quite well from now on. She's quite bright and quite useful in a number of capacities, and she will do anything at all that you say."

Sam's eyebrows rose. "Anything?"

"Yes," Voorhes responded, nodding. "Obedience, within a pecking order, is the norm for everyone in the society in which she was born and raised. You are, quite naturally, at the bottom of her particular pecking queue, just over her, but so long as you don't ask her to violate or attempt to overrule orders from above, she'll do just about anything. Don't mistake her for some roboticized or lobotomized individual, though. It's the way her people are. You will find her invaluable and talented."

"Yeah, I'll bet," I said sourly. "And she'll report every word I say and every move I make back to everybody else, so our murderer can know every move I make almost when I make it, know my plans, have access to my records and thoughts, and take whatever steps are needed to thwart me at every turn. Thanks a lot, Voorhes. And if I have to
cross paths with the Company, how in hell am I going to explain her?"

"Well, you didn't expect us to let you just run loose with everything you might know, did you? I admit that it hobbles you a bit, but not as much as you think. For one thing, she has been told to report only certain kinds of things back to us, relating to areas of particular concern to us. Those things relating specifically to your investigation aren't among them. As for the Company, she's carrying the transponder code of another young lady who is a licensed Company courier and she can get in and out of places rather easily and without arousing any suspicion. She already has with no trouble. The Company bureaucracy is like all bureaucracies; they'll take your word for it that she came as the result of a request for aid in light of your wife's condition and the need to have someone remain with your child. As for the unforeseen-well, you have some expertise in telling a convincing story. Ah-here she is, now!"

Maria came out bearing a large tray that contained a pitcher of coffee, real cream and brown sugar, and several bowls filled with various things from diced fresh fruit to some sort of egg and rice dish, sweet breads, and other things. She was no longer wearing the apron and was more in a state of undress than dress in spite of being barely modest.

She poured and served and then took her own seat.

"I hope you have more of a wardrobe than I have," I commented.

She laughed. "I have a small suitcase. Not too much, nothing cold weather, but more than this. If
this disturbs you I can go change."

"No, no! That's fine for now. But I'm told you're going to be coming with me on this little adventure, and you'd certainly attract a lot of attention and probably catch your death if that's all you had to wear."

"Maria will also be your guide," Voorhes told me. "She knows the whats and wheres of our organization-and the no-nos as far as you are concerned-and this will allow us to minimize organizational contact until you want it and have something to tell us."

I nodded. "I assume you're not one of the big shots," I said to her. "For one thing, I'd think you'd be too young."

"I am a Drone Class D-4 out of Iquitos Control," she responded as if she was giving her college address in Iowa or something. "I am assigned to Alliance work. I am twenty-three."

A mere child,
I thought, but said, "Drone. Sounds like you're a bee or something."

She didn't take it wrongly. "Our society is based on the efficiencies of the insect model," she told me. "I have seen many of your other societies and I find them anarchistic or immoral, every one. I do not understand how any of you can live that way. So much emotional outbursts, antisocial behavior, poverty, disease, filth ... I don't know how people can live like that, or why they would tolerate it."

Good lord! They've assigned me a female Mister Spock!
I thought, amazed.
Either that or a refugee from Orwell. I
made a note to find out more about her society when I could, but not to press it now. At least, for somebody who was supposed to be totally obedient, she sure as hell was outspoken and disrespectful. I liked that much, anyway.

"Well, all right," I sighed. "I guess there's no avoiding it. But, Voorhes, if her presence is the thing that alerts the Company and makes it all go bad, I won't be responsible or feel responsible. I neither need nor want her-nothing personal, my dear."

Voorhes shrugged. "Perhaps. This is an awkward situation for all of us, Horowitz. The sooner it is resolved, the less chance there is of something going wrong." He paused a moment. "We will arrange for you to have a wardrobe sufficient for your needs by later today. Are you ready to begin?"

I nodded. "If it's riot too far, we might as well start with Pandross's place and let me look at the security system. The evidence will be long gone but you'd be surprised what you can tell just by being on the scene, and if that system is in any way similar to what I know or understand, then there might be things you overlooked."

"Done. Maria will handle that for you, and I will set up a working place for you to customize, although I suspect that if Pandross couldn't safeguard himself I don't see how you can, and that is always a danger."

"Pandross wasn't guarding himself from his friends, but rather the records from everybody but his friends. Still, I don't deny that when I get close I might well be a target. All I can do is try and make sure that anybody who nails me will get nailed. This is the damnedest situation any detective has ever been placed in, you know. The murderer knows everything about me, all my weak points and vulnerabilities, and I don't even have a list of suspects."

"You want them?"

"Only when I am secure," I told the rebel leader. "Have all the records, all the interrogations, everything done up to now available to me. I also want the personal backgrounds of everybody, and if you can get each other to give a general critique of the other eight and even Pandross it will help as well. I need to get filled in very fast here. And don't forget to include yourself in that stack."

Voorhes looked stung. "Why, I wouldn't have it any other way. Nor, of course, would my colleagues."

"Uh huh. And, Voorhes?"

"Yes?"

"I want to know if anybody at that meeting was opposed to your new master plan. Anybody. Even if they got talked into it and later voted for it."

"You harp on that. Are you really certain that the timing was more than a coincidence?"

"No," I admitted, "but right now it's the only motive I've got. Any chance of me getting back home at some point, by the way? There are things I'd like to pick up."

Voorhes smiled and shook his head. "Mister Horowitz, do we look like fools? To put you back on your own turf might seal our death warrant and the end of all our dreams. No, Horowitz-for the duration, that is the one spot and the one branch that is totally off limits. Maria here has firm orders to kill you if you so much as try it."

The pretty young woman gave me such a sweet smile at that.

Maria's normal clothing was practical if a bit unflattering, consisting of a light blue cotton pullover shirt and pants and a pair of fairly heavy halfboots. Apparently the boots were made for mud or construction work but as she was told it might be cold in spots she'd decided they would do for that. I wondered if she really appreciated what kind of cold she might find. She wouldn't last ten minutes back home this time of year, and who knew what season or climate it might be where we might have to go?