“Of course not. I left specific orders that nothing was to be done without my authorization.”
I thought about that. “It’s hard to find good help these days, isn’t it?”
She gave one of her gentle English trilling-type laughs.
“Dr. Mingus has been terminated. You won’t be seeing any more of him.”
“That’s good. He didn’t have much of a bedside manner. What about Nueve?”
Her smile went away. “The Operative Nine has been suspended pending a full review of his actions upon my leaving Camp Echo.”
“Oh. What’s that mean exactly?”
“It means he’s in deep doo-doo.”
“You got the board to change its mind?”
“I made the board’s mind irrelevant. I’ve taken on emergency powers, Alfred, which I am allowed to do under certain unique circumstances. And this circumstance certainly qualifies as unique.”
“What about Ashley? Is she in trouble too?”
“Don’t you think she should be?”
“So you arrested her.”
She studied my face for a long time before answering.
“What do you think I should do to her?”
I thought about it. “Nothing.”
She seemed surprised. “Really? Nothing at all?”
“I don’t think she ever wanted to hurt me. She was trying to protect me the best she could, but she was in a bad spot, because of Nueve. Because she . . . well, I guess she loves him. And you can’t always choose who you fall in love with, like those girls in vampire stories or in real life when a girl falls for a doper. It’s one of those things that just happen and then you’re kind of trapped in a situation you want to control but can’t. It’s almost like being an Op Nine or a knight like my dad or even somebody really messed up like Jourdain.”
She was looking at me like a mom with a babbling kid who was just learning how to talk.
“The thing-that-must-be-done,” I said. “My father swore to protect the Sword no matter what, even if that what meant the Sword would kill him. When he was the Operative Nine, Samuel had to think the unthinkable, even if the unthinkable meant putting the SD 1031 in my head. See? Even Nueve and Mingus—well, maybe not Mingus, that dude was seriously messed up with a capital mess—thought there was no choice, and Ashley was given one between just abandoning me to Nueve or trying to help me the best she could . . . though I wish she had told me when she had the chance.
“And Jourdain. I think he really believed his dream that the Sword would come back if he took revenge for what I did to his dad. What happened to Jourdain anyway?”
Just like with Ashley, she said, “What would you like to happen to him?”
“Nothing. Well, he probably should get some therapy. We both should. I used to hate going to therapy, but now I’m thinking we should maybe do a group thing. Me, Sam, Ashley, Jourdain.”
She laughed like I was making a joke, but she didn’t know it was only half a joke.
“Not Nueve?”
“I don’t think therapy would do him any good. He’d probably just whip out his sword cane and chop off the therapist’s head.”
Thinking of heads reminded me. “We gotta get those skulls back,” I said. “Put them back in the graves where they belong.”
“The twelve are being taken care of even as we speak,” she said.
“Good,” I said. “Which leaves the thirteenth. What happens to me now?”
Again, just like with Ashley and Jourdain: “What would you like to happen?”
“What I’d like to happen, you can’t give,” I said.
“I can give anything now, Alfred.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’ve taken emergency powers. Queen Abigail. Well, when you say ‘anything’ . . . ?”
“We could still extract you, give you a new identity, take you anywhere you’d like to go.”
“Give me a normal life.”
“Yes.”
“Insert me into a normal interface.”
“Yes.”
“And leave me alone.”
“Yes.”
“Forever.”
No “yes” this time. “For as long as I am in charge.”
“You won’t be in charge forever.”
“It’s the most I can offer, Alfred.”
“And if you lose your job . . . or when you retire . . . or maybe if somebody does something to you . . . then I’m fair game.”
“What’s done is done,” she said carefully. “I can’t go back and undo the past, Alfred.”
“I guess that’s been my biggest problem,” I said. “Getting hung up on that—the undoable part.”
“You have another choice. An alternative.”
“Those are good to have. What is it?”
“Do you remember a year ago my telling you that we are always looking for fresh talent?”
“Yes. And I called you after I got home and you basically told me to grow up first.”
She smiled and again for about the tenth time I reminded myself to ask her about her oral-hygiene regimen. Her smile had the power to blind you.
“A lot of that has happened, hasn’t it?” She didn’t wait for my take on it, but hurried on. “Alfred, I’d like to offer you a position with the Company.”
She waited for it to sink in. It had a long way to sink, but Abby Smith was a patient person. She didn’t move a muscle while I stared at her.
“A couple of days ago you people are sharpening the knives to lobotomize me, and now you’re offering me a job?”
“That wasn’t us,” she answered. “That wasn’t my Company. We weren’t created for it and we will not tolerate it. No, Alfred, you would be working directly for me. In return, I will see to it you receive the best of educations as well as the safest environment to pursue it. And, when you’re eighteen, you can decide if you wish to stay with us.”
“What’s the catch?”
“It might prove a bit . . . dangerous at times. But you’ve proven more than once that you’re more than capable of handling yourself.”
“What about SOFIA? How do I know you’re not just bringing me onboard to use me again?”
When I said the word “SOFIA,” her smile evaporated. The room got dimmer, as if she had flipped off a light.
“SOFIA is dead. The data has been purged from our systems and all the samples destroyed.”