Page 11 of Into Darkness (Night Prowler 6)
After several moments of heart-pounding silence, Lu walked slowly out to meet her fate.
THREE
The main hall of the Hospice was thick with silk plants and brightly lit in a failed attempt to deflect attention from its startling similarity to an enormous cage. The requisite game tables, craft areas, and “meditation zones” on the second floor competed with the IF-approved library for title of most depressing, while the portrait gallery on the third floor—featuring grim gilt-framed oils of the Federation’s top leaders leering down at the guests in the main hall below—beat out everything in terms of sheer creepiness. Above the third floor were the “residences,” where Hospice guests would spend their final days in rooms so small one could almost touch both walls when lying in bed.
Trying to look inconspicuous, Lu edged into a corner behind a fake giant philodendron so dusty it made her sneeze.
“Better to be front and center than let them think you’re hiding,” scolded Liesel softly, coming up behind Lu and taking her arm. “You know what a cat does when it sees the mouse run?”
A question that required no answer. Lu let herself be led away from the comforting cover of the dusty plant to the terrifying center of the room.
Near the entrance and off to the side of the sea of dining tables where guests ate all their meals, the staff had lined up in three rows according to seniority. Administration and managers in front, clerical and support staff behind, then the orderlies with the kitchen and laundry staff. As always, Cushing stood a little apart and ahead of the rest of his line, convinced he shouldn’t have to stand with such plebs.
The moment the Administrator entered the main hall with the Grand Minister, Lu’s nervous system went into overdrive. With the approaching hum of mechanical wheels, her heart twisted, her breathing increased, all the little hairs on her body stood on end. Every minute detail of the room honed to brilliant, blinding focus, and she felt for a split second as if an animal sleeping just under her skin had awoken, bristling, hissing a warning into her ear.
Enemy! Enemy! Enemy!
Her palms began to itch so violently it was all she could do to stand still. Up on the third floor, one of the paintings lifted briefly from the wall, falling back with a clatter.
Then he was before them. A mangled body, a face full of rage, a white arm band with a brilliant yellow sun emblem, sinister for all its simplicity.
“Good evening,” said the Grand Minister in a surprisingly gentle voice, squaring his wheelchair in front of the lines of staff. There was a murmured response, then silence.
Two black-suited men the size of small buildings took positions a few feet behind the wheelchair with their hands clasped behind their backs, legs spread. Their eyes roved over the group with unblinking intensity. A swarm of others lurked in her peripheral vision, moving to guard exits and hallways, to flank the entrance doors. The Administrator stood several feet to the rear of the Grand Minister, her hands clenched to fists at her sides, her face now bleached from gray to white. Lu felt the blood drain from her own cheeks as well.
“Before we begin, I’d like to put your minds at ease about something,” said the Grand Minister in his soothing voice, gazing at each person in turn. “You have, no doubt, heard many fantastical stories of my exploits, including, perhaps, the story of how I came to be in this wheelchair, missing a few important body parts. Yes, you don’t have to deny it; I know it’s true,” he chuckled, nodding as he watched the surprised expressions, the questioning, darting eyes. After a moment, he sobered. When he spoke again the faintest tinge of anger colored his voice. “My lifelong fight against the creatures who would kill every one of us if they could has indeed cost me a great deal. But I am not the only one who has paid a dear price, my friends. Each and every one of you has also paid. With your freedom, with your security, with the blood of your family and friends. We’ve all paid, in one way or another.”
Shocked silence. His words edged close to treason. No one dared speak.
“Even to the point of being denied the most powerful and beautiful natural resource of this planet, you have paid.” He paused, searching the gathering. “Who among you has ever seen the sun?”
After a moment of breathless quiet, all the older staff members raised their hands. Beside Lu, Liesel’s arm lifted slowly, until her hand was high above her head, trembling.
The Grand Minister’s voice turned hard. “I was there when it happened, when these filthy animals declared war on the human race. I was at ground zero in the jungles of Brazil on that day twenty-four years ago, and watched it all unfold firsthand.” He inhaled a shaky breath, then said vehemently, “They took our sun. The lifeblood of our world. Would you not agree with me that the theft of such a thing is an abomination? That the scorched sky and poisoned atmosphere and the decimation and degradation of life as it had evolved over millions of years is a crime so heinous it can never be forgiven?”
Vigorous head nods, murmurs of agreement. Lu tried to scratch her palms with the tips of her fingers, but couldn’t quite manage it while keeping her arms straight at her sides. The itch became almost unbearable, spreading out from her palms, snaking up her arms.
The Grand Minister’s face softened. He leaned back in his wheelchair; his hand loosened its grip on the cushioned arm.
“Friends, I’m not here to punish anyone. You’ve all suffered enough. On the contrary, any assistance given me today will be met not with punishment, but with reward. You may have witnessed things, heard things, perhaps even hidden things you thought might cause you or your family trouble if you spoke out. But speaking out will not get you into trouble. You have my word. Anyone who brings something to my attention that leads to the capture of one of these bioterrorists will be well compensated, treated as the patriots they truly are.”
The tension easing around her was palpable. Lu thought, You sneaky son of a bitch.
She was reminded of something her father often quoted, a line from the French poet Baudelaire. “The devil’s best trick is to persuade you he doesn’t exist.”
Well played, Grand Minister. Well played. Hatred hatched inside of her, foul as a rotten egg. He wasn’t fooling her with his soft voice and promises of mercy and reward. She knew a snake when she saw one, even if his poisonous fangs were sheathed.
Upstairs, several of the portraits began to shake, sending a tremor along the walls. The Grand Minister heard the sound and smiled, utterly without warmth.
“So,” he said, turning brisk, “I’ll meet with each of you in turn, and we shall see if we can get to the bottom of this, and then get out of your proverbial hair.” His gaze flicked over the room, searching. Then, horribly, as if magnetized, it settled directly on Lu. His chilling smile grew wider.
“Let’s start with you.”
From behind the pair of dented metal filing cabinets overlaid with a plain slab of stainless steel that served as the Administrator’s office desk, the Grand Minister sat in ominous silence, watching Lu as she stood nervously across from him, tr
ying desperately to appear nonchalant.
Failing to appear nonchalant. Her breathing sounded like thunder in her ears.
