Part 14 (1/2)

”Who knows? Germans, Navy, Treasury, Marines, Kona Tatsu?” He made a face to show it was all the same to him. ”They're all out fighting with us. n.o.body knows who's alive and who's not, or who's in charge.” He coughed. 'I didn't mean to say anything wrong, Madame Bouriere.”

”Saying it isn't wrong. Sergeant Mallas. It's the act of rebellion that's wrong,” She indicated the hallway. ”I want to reach Kitchleys office. That's one more level above us.”

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The Sergeant shook his head. ”I don't know, Madame. It could be pretty hard getting through the halls. There are too many people who . . .

don't know what's going on. They're barricaded in their offices and shooting at anything moving.”

He looked at her pistol. ”Still, considering -”

Jessine c.o.c.ked her head. ”You mean consider- ing that most of them would recognize me -”

He nodded. ”It's taking a chance. Most of them think you and all the others are dead.”

”I can understand why,” said Jessine, and could not keep herself from adding, ”Do you know if anyone else... ?”

”Got out?” he finished for her. ”Sorry, Madame. I don't know. I've heard rumors, but nothing real.” He pressed closer to the open door, ”You want to try this?”

”Yes,” she said, knowing it was what she had to do. She had been raised to be the wife of the High Secretary, and that included facing adver- sity with dignity and fort.i.tude. She stood a little straighter. ”Take up First Escort position.”

”If that's what you want,” said Sergeant Mallas dubiously but without challenging her orders.

He moved into the hall.

”Stand up. Sergeant. They are less likely to fire at you if you behave as if you belong here.”

The first checkpoint was unmanned, but the

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Chelsea Quinn Yarforo

second had Security soldiers m place, all four of them heavily armed.

”You're cleared to the Appointments Direc- torate, Madame,” said the unsmiling Security guard. 'Treasury Guards are in charge there.

You'll have to deal with them if you're going beyond there.”

'Thank you. Monitor,” said Jessine with delib- erate hauteur; she had the satisfaction of seeing the Security guards come to attention before she followed Sergeant Mallas through the confusion of the main corridor.

The five make-s.h.i.+ft data processing stations which had been set up under the Grand Stair- case more than twenty years ago were now filled with Directorate employees all trying to sort and destroy any compromising doc.u.ments they might have in their records. Dataspools and printed records lay everywhere - on the floor, atop cases and chairs and cabinets - and every- one spoke in whispers, as if they, too, might prove embarra.s.sing to some high official.

Sergeant Mallas kept his eyes moving, watch- ing for the unexpected as he continued at a steady walk toward the next checkpoint.

A cl.u.s.ter of offices toward the first bank of dropshafts had once been storage rooms; they were small and cramped and dark. Clerks were

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a.s.signed to them on a rotating basis because few could stand the sepulchral environment for long.