Part 20 (2/2)

May I have a word with you, Father Mendez?

When Mendez left, Jefferson leaned over toward me. You're here of your own free will? he said. No one's coerced you?

No one.

Thoughts of suicide?

Nothing could be farther from my mind. The possibility was still back there, but I wanted to see how this turned out. If the universe ceased to exist, it would take me with it anyhow.

I suspected that that would be the att.i.tude of someone resigned to suicide, and that realization may have shown on my face.

But something's bothering you, Jefferson said.

When did you last meet someone with nothing bothering him?

Mendez came through the door alone, carrying the clipboard. A lock on the door clicked behind him.

Interesting. He asked the bar for a cup of coffee and sat down. You've taken a month's leave, Doctor.

Sure, moving.

People expect you back in what, a day or two?

Soon.

What people? You're not married or living with anyone.

Friends. Colleagues.

Sure. He handed the clipboard to Jefferson.

He glanced at the top sheet and the one under it.' 'You can't do this. How could you do this? I couldn't read what was on either sheet, but they were some sort of signed orders.

Obviously, I can. As to how, he shrugged. Faith can move mountains.

What is it?

I'm TDY'ed here for three weeks. Vacation canceled. What the h.e.l.l is going on?''

We had to make a decision while you were still in the building. You've been invited to join our little project here.

I decline the invitation. He tossed the clipboard down and stood up. Let me out of here.

Once we've had a chance to talk, you'll be free to stay or go. He opened a box inlaid in the table's surface and unreeled a red jack and a green one. Oneway.

'No way! You can't force me to jack with you.

Actually, that's true. He gave me a significant look. I couldn't do anything of the sort.

I could, I said, and pulled the knife out of my pocket. I pushed the b.u.t.ton and the blade flicked out and then began to hum and glow.

”Are you threatening me with a weapon? Sergeant?”

No, I'm not. Colonel. I raised the blade to my neck and looked at my watch. If you aren't jacked in thirty seconds, you'll have to watch me cut my own throat.

He swallowed hard. You're bluffing.

No. I'm not. My hand started to tremble. But I suppose you've lost patients before.

”What is so G.o.dd.a.m.ned important about this thing?”

Jack and find out. I didn't look at him. Fifteen seconds.

He will, you know, Mendez said. I've jacked with him. His death will be your fault.

He shook his head and walked back to the table. I'm not sure of that. But you seem to have me trapped. He sat down and slid the jack in.

I turned off the knife. I think I was bluffing.

Watching people who are jacked is about as interesting as watching people sleep. There was nothing to read in the room, but there was a notepad and stylus, so I wrote a letter to Amelia, outlining what had been going on. After about ten minutes, they started to nod regularly, so I finished the letter quickly, encrypted it and sent it.

Jefferson unjacked and buried his face in his hands. Mendez unjacked and stared at him.

It's a lot to a.s.similate all at once, he said. But I really didn't know where to stop.

You did right, Jefferson said, m.u.f.fled. I had to have it all. He sat back and exhaled. Have to link with the Twenty now, of course.

You're on our side? I said.

Sides. I don't think you have a s...o...b..ll's chance. But yes, I want to be part of it.

He's more committed than you are, Mendez said.

Committed but not convinced?

Julian, Jefferson said, with all due respect for your years as a mechanic, and all the suffering you've gone through for what you've seen ... for having killed that boy ... it may be that I know more about war and its evil than you do. Secondhand knowledge, admittedly. He sc.r.a.ped sweat off his forehead with the blade of his hand. But the fourteen years I've spent trying to put soldiers' lives back together make me a pretty good recruit for this army.

I wasn't really surprised at that. A patient doesn't get too much unguarded feedback from his therapist-it's like a one-way jack with a few controlled thoughts and feelings seeping back-but I knew how much he hated the killing, and what the killing did to the killers.

AMELIA SHUT DOWN HER machine for the day and was stacking papers, ready to go home, long bath and a nap, when a short bald man tapped on her office door. Professor Harding?

What can I do for you?

Cooperate. He handed her an unsealed plain envelope. My name is Harold Ingram, Major Harold Ingram. I'm an attorney for the army's Office of Technology a.s.sessment.

She unfolded three pages of fine print. So would you care to tell me in plain English what this is all about?

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