Memoria (32 page)

The coach and Maggie now sat at the long table
with their backs to the window.
Lionel Batford and Nicholas Floyd fac
ed
them.
Frank watched their reflections in the window pane. Lionel, indifferent, studied the gun he'd taken from
Max
.

On the table between them lay the
attaché
case
,
buff
ed to its former silvery shine, its lid deformed by the bullets.
Next to it
stood the
camera on its tripod
connected to the monitor. The damaged battery hadn't stood up to the
pressure,
so that
the
camp engineers, having
fiddl
ed
with the contacts
,
had
decided not to bother and connected it to the mains with
a transformer.
But it didn't do much good, either. After
a
few minutes' discussion, the engineers had said they were sure they could fix it if they could get it to the workshop.
And so they
had
left under
Max
's morose glare.

Frank looked down at the granite steps under the windows. He couldn't read the names from that h
e
ight, but some of them h
e remembered from school: Frank
lin Delano Roosevelt, Mary Robinson,
Harry
Truman.
The rest of the names he'd seen for the first time as he climbed those steps a few minutes ago. But if
someone
had bothered to
immortalize
th
ose names
in
the stone worn by
centuries
of
footsteps, then their bearers must have deserved being remembered.

It felt almost like a symbol: could it be wh
y the Council presided
here in
the gothic edifice of
Fordham?

He thought against asking
those
present, and only turned round when a door creaked
,
to
meet Anna
Gautier's
morose stare. S
he
entered
; Frank stepp
ed to the table. The bored Floy
d rose and
pulled a chair up for
her. Lionel Batford put the gun aside
, placed his cell phone on the table next to him and sat
up
straight. Frank nodded to
Max
, looked at the restless Maggie
and stood with his hands on the back of his chair, watching
the Steel L
ady.

"So,"
her
sharp
contralto
echoed off
the walls
.
She glared at Max.
"You've entered the Bronx bearing
arms.
"
Her stare shifted to Frank.
"You
're wanted by the authorities. Y
ou're accused of murder and
a
terrori
st attempt!"
Gautier
raised her voice high at the end of the sentence as if to underline it.

Frank held her stare. "You're absolutely right.
I am indeed accused of everything you've just said.
God knows," he s
i
ghed and looked at his coach, "I didn't want my friends to get involved.
Especially my new friends," he looked at Maggie suppressing the desire to touch her shoulder. "I definitely didn't plan on seeking help from you.
Or from any migrants, for that
matter
.
But," Frank clasped the back of the chair hearing his fingers
crack. "But I do have evidence of my innocence. This tape was made by Kathleen Baker and decoded using Joe Binelli's
workstation
.
This evidence, if only
the
public learns about it, will be Memoria's undoing. Isn't it what you want? You, of all people, need to get the authorities off your back.
Didn't you speak to M
emoria
's
bosses only this morning? What did they
propose
?"

O
pposite him
,
Nicholas Floyd
shifted in his chair.
Lionel Batford
's hand slid under the table.
Frank heard a click
—
could be the
safety
lock of
a gun.

Gautier
stared at him, her thin lips pursed.
A
web
of deep lines crumpled her
bony face, shriveling her
forehead.
Her eyes, encircled
by
a
pair
of crow's feet, reflected the bright lights high above, as if her very glare was on fire.
Would it destroy him and his friends? Only time could tell.

"Young man,"
Gautier's
lips formed a bitter grin
, "don't you know you're playing with fire? Who told you Memoria
bosses us around
? Who told you they
are
the authority?
Could be the other way round, you know."

She waited for him to answer. The future of Frank's and his friends' now
depended
on
his right
choice of
word
s
.

"But you are going to check the tape," he allowed
himself
a
passing grin, "of that I'm sure."

Gautier
nodded.

"Very well, then
,
" Frank breathed a sigh of relief. "The administration's dependency on
the Bronx camp a
nd its business activities makes
the migrants their number one
enemy
. They can't control you. A
nd no government can afford that
.
Especially if some
members
of the said government have
a
generous share in Memoria's dividends.
Russel
l
Jefferson
Claney
is running for
the
Presidency.
Does
n't
it make the administration one with Memoria? Did you get some of the answers you expected?"

She nodded.
"Almost
.
"

Frank chose to ignore her sarcasm.
"But this is only one side of the coin
.
Let's turn it the other way
up
.
Let's pre
sume that the
migrants'
camp in
DC
has ceased to exist
.
There're too many strategic objects in
DC
, aren't there? The White House,
the Pentagon,
to name a few. So le
t's presume, for the sake of
argument, that the
DC
migrants,"
Frank looked first at
Max
, then at Batford and Floyd,
"
have been relocated
to smaller towns and communities.
Let's presume that there exists a secret agreement between the administration and the
migrants' Presiding Council that does just that
...
"

"Is it true?" Floyd
rose, his bulk overpowering
Gautier
.
She didn't flinch, her moros
e stare fixed on Frank. "So it is, then.
But how
...
How could you?"

Batford,
as
more cool-headed,
pulled Floyd's arm, forcing him to sit back down. Frank went on,

"It would only be a temporary measure, wouldn't it?
A compromise. Just
a
nother
deal."

The Steel Lady glared as if she wanted to burn a hole in him.

"We all want to live," Frank mused.
"No matter how old we are. We all want to live a long comfortable life. Back to
DC
, though. Theirs wasn't a large camp
: just over twenty thousand pe
ople
. Many other small
er
camps have disappeare
d off the map in a similar way,
"
h
e started unfolding his fingers,
"one in Ok
lahoma, another in Montana, the West Coast
...
"

"Wait a bit, Frank,"
Max
nodded at
Gautier
. "Do you
imply
they paid her to do it?"

"Enough!" the Steel L
ady slapped her hand on the table.

The door creaked, letting one of the young men
in
who'd taken Frank and his friends to Fordham in the pickup truck.
Gautier
waved him away
, and the man disappeared.

"All of us in the Presiding Council were promised freedom of
movement," she started, looking out of the wind
ow. "We hoped that
by sacrificing
little we could obtain more.
As we surrendered our territories we
increased the population of the larger ones, thus ensuring greater efficiency of our ventures.
By doing that, the population of larger cities came to count on and respect us.
That included
their administration
...
"

The coach raised his eyebrows.
"Which became dependent on you
r ventures
," he summed up.
"But it doesn't explain your reaction
a minute ago.
Am I the only one
who's
dumb here?
"
h
e lifted his hands in dismay. "
That
gives
you and the migrants
the highest advantage ever."

"Let Shelby explain,"
Gautier
looked down at her wrinkled hands.

"Easy," said Frank. "Freedom of movement in exchange for
land
s and all the assets.
With one reservation," he glanced over
at
all
who were
present, "The program
is
planned
for twenty-five years.
The Presiding Council and the administration come to a secret agreement
...
" He turned to
Max
. "I'm sorry, sir. I meant to tell you all about it
while
still in the boxing club,
but then
Barney
came and I never-"

"You mean, another twenty-five years, and t
he reservations will disappear,
"
Max
crossed his arms on his chest. "All thanks to an agreement between a handful of people.
"

It was
Max's
turn to shake
his head in disbelief. "
That's the way to do it,"
he glanced at Maggie next to him, "
without as little as asking anyone if they wanted it or not. Then again,
the
powers that be never bother."

The girl
stared down at the table,
quiet and reserved
.
She was rather like a fifth wheel in their company. Too many things had been said not meant for her ears, and everyone seemed to realize that, Frank included.
But once started, th
e argument couldn't be stopped.

Max
turne
d to the Steel Lady.
"You hoped to keep the agreement a secret. Easy enough to do, considering not so many people knew about it
in the first place
. A lawyer from each state,
the
heads of
government,
p
ossibly, the President,
plus a couple dozen camp leaders
...
a
hundred, hundred and fifty in total. Not many, considering the stakes: twenty-five years of
change for the better, restoring
the
migrants' position in society
...
Twenty-five years is a
figure
to
be
reckon
ed
with.
You've nearly made it, too.
"