Harsh Lessons (34 page)

Emma nodded; praying she was right, but sure that she hadn't convinced Leeth.

Chapter 40 

At eight a.m, Leeth stood wearily before Mother's desk.

'Well?  How do you explain this?'

'Huh?  Why do
I
have to explain it? 
I
didn't kidnap the school!'

Mother raised her eyebrows.  'You expect me to believe this
didn't
happen as a result of some action on your part?  That you had nothing to do with it?  You yourself told Emma that this Mark Dennis had been following
you
.'

'Yeah, but I don't know
why.
How does that make it
my
fault?'

'Because you must have done something outlandish to attract his attention.  Checkbook estimates Mark Dennis spent two point eight million credits on this – not to mention the charges for destroying a ten million dollar mansion, when he's found.  In my experience, when someone spends that amount of money to kidnap someone, there's usually a reason.  A reason which the victim is well aware of.'  She waited.

Leeth shrugged.  'Well, I got nothin’.'

'Well,
I
have a hunch that somehow, you caused all this.'

For a moment, Leeth had to fight the urge to tell Mother to go…
shunt
herself. 
But I still gotta ask them to get Uncle to heal Marcie.
  So instead….  '
Really
, Mother?  A hunch?'  Leeth nodded to herself.  'Well, it's important to pay attention to hunches.  If you've got a hunch about this, it means you're probably right.'

Mother stared at her, and Leeth nodded again, encouragingly.

'Well?'

'Well what, Mother?'

'So how do you think you set all this off?'

'I dunno.'

'But you just agreed that my hunch was probably correct.'

'Yeah.  It probably is.  I just don't know
how
.'

Leeth heard Mother's teeth click against one another, then the faint sound of them grinding.

Sweet
.  She kept her expression innocent, though.  She knew she shouldn't bait Mother, but she also knew, by now, they were never gonna be friends.

'So, anyway, you know how we've been making false IDs for me, for when I go on missions?  Well, I was thinking, sometimes Uncle will need to go out too, right?  So he should get a chance to build-'

'The Doctor will
not
be permitted to attempt to Heal your friend.  The Department is not a charitable organization.  Our existence must be kept secret.  We-'

'That's why we disguise him and make up a false identity.  We can-'

'Do
not
interrupt!'  Mother looked angry: angrier, even, than normal.  'Do you have any idea of the level of media interest in this story? 
Disguise
your Uncle?'  She laughed.  'Your Uncle is a recognized and respected researcher, not an obscure nobody.  And the area of his research – unlocking magical potential – is an extremely active one, of enormously high value.  If anyone ever links you and your unique abilities to
him
, every interested Power watching will assume he managed to make you Unfold – regardless of any mere
protestations
to the contrary.'

'That's why we disguise him so no one recognizes him.  And I go in as Jane, who has no magical-'

'No.  It's out of the question.  Can you not understand the Department must come first?  Do you have
no
understanding of the stakes we play for?  I begin to question your suitability.'

'
Begin
to?  You've
always
questioned it!'

'You always give me reasons to.'

Do not punch Mother.  Do n
ot
.  'Look, if we disguise-'

'No.  The subject is closed.'

'Closed?  How come
you
get to say the subject is closed?  I'm going to ask Father!'  Leeth spun on her heel.

'Leeth!  I have not finished your debriefing!  Leeth!  Come back here!
Leeth!'

Leeth couldn't quite believe it, when Father
agreed
with Mother.

'But it'd probably only take him a few minutes!'

'That's not the issue, Leeth.  I understand: you want to help your friend.  Commendable.  But the chance for the operation going wrong is not low enough, and the risk-return is far too high.  No.'

When she managed to see Eagle, and put her case, he studied her in silence for perhaps a minute.  She fought not to fidget.

'Did you
understand
what Mother and Father told you?' he asked, finally.  'Even if you didn't agree with their logic?'

'Yes.  But if we don't do what's
right
, what's the point in
anything
we do?  Even if it does have a risk, or a big cost?'

He didn't say anything, but she thought he seemed pleased, and her hopes rocketed.

'Your logic  is sound, Leeth.  But in this case, I must agree with Mother and Father, and deny your request.'

But the look he gave her, as her heart plunged and then hardened, was… odd.  Like he wasn't just studying her.  She had the feeling he was expecting her to
do
something, or say something.

Only she didn't know what.

For a while, neither spoke.  He waited, patiently.  In the end, she nodded, frowning, and left his room.

She met his eyes again, as the door slid shut.  And tried again to read the message in them.

Leeth's glasses were recovered, smashed alongside all the other communications devices in the boiled-dry fountain of the burned-out mansion.  They were quietly switched with a simple audio-link pair, in case anyone ever performed a detailed forensic analysis.

Mark Dennis was not found, though a dead body was found later in a car parked near a clinic; where a man matching Dennis’s description had paid an exorbitant sum for medical treatment for broken bones and other severe injuries on that same night.

And Nelson found that the Mark Dennis ID had been a very expensive, very good fake.

His motives for kidnaping the entire drama school, however, remained unclear.  Photo-matching from his fake ID revealed him to be Marc Disten, a very wealthy stock-broker from New York, who had simply walked off the job the previous year.  Some kind of nervous breakdown had been assumed.  But no criminal record.  Nor had Disten resurfaced, as yet.  His assets were frozen and wanted notices placed, of course.

Even after the week of mental torture that was the writing of her report, in the end no one actually said whether she’d passed the exercise, or failed!  But then, no one said anything about having to repeat it, either.

They let Leeth, with a faked farmhouse bedroom computer-rendered behind her, chat by vidlink to Marcie in her hospital bed.

Things were not going well.  Apparently, the injury was more extensive, and more severe, than they'd expected, and Marcie for some reason was not responding properly to the treatments.

Marcie tried to smile.  'Dad's arranging a cyber-specialist to come in and check me out for a bunch of nerve shunts.  Maybe I'll end up being turned into robo girl.  Maybe I'll get super powers?  I'll ask Dad to get me some muscle augments at the same time.  Then maybe I could throw men out of trucks like you did.'

Leeth tried to smile.  Knowing all too well that it had been
Marcie
who’d shown true bravery.
 

Chapter 41 

Things settled back into their old routine.  But the delight was gone: she wasn't even sure if she wanted to be here anymore.  Wasn't sure the Department was what she'd thought it was.  Wasn't even sure they were really the good guys.

The excitement, the
joy
she'd discovered in mixing with ordinary people, people her own age, seemed just an impossibly-bright dream.

And on top of the Marcie disaster, things were getting much, much worse.

This time it started in her uncle's class.  Leeth was sure he was deliberately dragging the lesson out, just so she couldn't go to the pool before dinner.  She could tell the other agents were only pretending to be interested.  Who cared if the Japanese gesture of a hooked forefinger meant "thief": someone hooking away your possessions?  She didn't know any Japanese people, and at the rate things were going, she probably never would.  They'd probably keep her locked up in this underground maze forever.  Sterile rooms linked by sterile corridors, with fake "daylight" lighting, and phony windows onto the real world.

Like the walls of this cramped training room, for example: virtual windows looking out across a darkly sparkling bay to Alcatraz.  She wondered what it'd be like to swim those deep waters to the old prison.  Cold, probably.  Maybe a shark would attack her, and she could-

'Am I boring you, Leeth?'

She jumped, met her uncle's eyes: noted the superior smile.  How she hated that smile.

'Not just me, Uncle.'

His face went blank.

Her stomach roiled in instinctive dread – dread, followed by anger at that cowardly reaction.  The anger burned away the fear.  She wasn't scared of him.

His head slumped and one hand lifted to cover his mouth.  From his own lessons on body language, she knew that meant he was struggling to bite back a response.  She had to fight to keep her small surge of delight from showing.

«Leeth: mode one.»

No!
  Hot glee chilled to ice at the scarcely-vocalized words.  For several seconds she couldn't believe he'd done
that
to her right in front of the other agents.

She wanted to shout, to scream: tell them what he'd done.  But just the
idea
of trying to do so sent her thoughts spiraling out of control, collapsing into mere babble.  She flailed in the mental trap, thoughts bouncing off walls she scarcely sensed. 
Leeth, mode one.
  Just words.  Barely whispered words.  Now he'd even found a way to use her special hearing against her.  She latched onto the thought, chased it: would he one day find a way to use her sight against her, too?  Hold up a sign in the dark for her alone to read: "Leeth, mode one"?

Slowly, she climbed from the spinning mental pit, her reason steadying. 
Could
written words do it?  Maybe she should test that herself?  No, that'd be stupid, since she could never remember the words he spoke to end it and return her to herself.  She might wind up stuck.

She realized no one had spoken for a long time, and twisted around to James, then Emma.  They looked uncomfortable, avoiding her eyes.  What was the matter with them?  Couldn't they
see
what he'd just done?

Oh.
  Remembering, she realized why her uncle had covered his mouth.  It hadn't been to hold in words.  He'd done it so his lips couldn't be read.  Just in case they were being vidded.

Bastard.

Turning back round she froze as she caught his stare.  A predator's gaze, now: sure of its prey.  Bracing herself, determined to resist, but knowing she couldn't.  Surely, in front of the others, he wouldn't make her do things?

Please, not in front of the others.

'Leeth, Leeth, Leeth.  What are we to do with you?  Still treating all this,' he gestured vaguely, 'like a child's game.  Still imagining we're all here just to entertain you.'

He sighed.  'Well, perhaps a child's punishment will drive the message home.  Go and stand quietly in the corner.'

Her thoughts churned into a gray muddle.  When at last the confusion ebbed, she got determinedly to her feet and stalked to the corner.

'Face the wall.'

Again the gray churning of her thoughts, but she fought it down and turned away from her uncle, away from James and Emma's embarrassed faces, from Preacher's grin.  She'd show them.  She stared into the pixels of the dark waters rippling on the wall.  Silent, resolved to stand there till they all died of old age.

That was how it had
started
: but it had been only the first act.

An hour later, the class on body language finished.  With her face still turned stubbornly to the wall, Leeth heard Preacher leave and, more slowly, James.  Finally Emma's footsteps moved hesitantly to the doorway, then stopped.  'Doctor, shouldn't Leeth-?'

'There is no need to concern yourself, Agent Emma.  We both know we can't have Leeth miss out on her training because of a childish outburst.  Although listening to a lecture is not her preferred learning method, as she herself demonstrated.  Best if I turn the lesson into a game – if she and I act out the gestures.  Use role playing techniques.'

Leeth's skin prickled. 
Roleplay
.  Alone, in his rooms.  No!

Her determination to stand quietly facing the corner almost failed her, then.  But The Rule kept her silent. 
Never reveal what we do together, alone.
  Frantically, she tried to find a way free.  Maybe Emma would insist on staying, would sense-

Footsteps, leaving.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hard.

Behind her, she heard the faint rustle of her uncle's clothes as he turned.  Facing her.  Watching her.  She could imagine the expression on his face: the coldly certain smile.

Slow, heavy seconds slunk past.

'Come, Leeth.  We will continue the lesson in private.  So you won't feel embarrassed should someone enter the classroom.  Come.'

Helplessly obedient, she spun and followed him from the room.

-

Six hours later: Leeth skipped happily, as instructed, down empty corridors, a smile which she couldn't seem to alter pasted to her face, and her hair tied up in two short pigtails.

Pigtails. 
They looked silly, childish.  Yet somehow, she wanted them.  And each time she considered removing them, or the ribbons, a gray fog swamped her thoughts.

It was after two in the morning, the recessed lights in the ceiling now off, only the glow from night-dimmed scenes lighting the walls.  She paused to stare "out" at a distant farmhouse nestling darkly at the foot of a hill, wishing she could escape through the wall and into that scene.