Metro (23 page)

She thinks so hard, trying to remember.

Darian says there's just one last chance to talk before he starts carving the turkey. The air is thick now with the fresh smell of strawberry slime and the burned stench of Andy's skin.

“So be it, Jollie.”

The show tunes become louder.

The saw goes to work.

• • •

S
he tries not to watch the blood—looks back over their life instead.

Searching desperately for something . . .

And . . .

Yes. Yes, there's something.

Something about Mark's storage locker—and the two of them together in the House of JAM. A moment so amazing and filled with happiness, but also assigned a dark backbeat in the rainbow melee. A note of uncertainty. Just a single drop of black ink in a sky-blue fish tank. But what was the moment? Where is she in this memory? So much depends on this. So goddamn fucking much. Mark, full of smiles and happiness on the best day of his life . . .

The film loop in her head snaps with a horrifying
pop
as the sound of destroyed flesh reaches her ears . . . and she screams.

• • •

D
arian sets Andy's ear on the white table, neatly next to his thumb. Chews his gum and smiles at his work. Turns back to Jollie, who keeps trying to close her eyes and stay in the past, with the hands of the big men all over her face, clutching at her skin, hitting pressure-points that make her flinch and jerk her eyelids upward. She can still smell burned flesh. The tinny ring of some canned studio orchestra playing the theme from
Fame
abuses her ears above it all, like a terrible ironic joke, soaked through with blood.

Nightmare.

“Poor Jollie,” Darian says. “Poor Jollie Meeker.”

He picks up the Wirchcow device. Wags it in front of her.

“I'm going to use this to scrape the fresh scabs off the right side of his face now, Jollie. It's something you'll never forget, I promise. It
has
to be done, really, or his wounds will become infected. Usually we wait a bit longer for the tissue to build up, but I think we can make an exception in this case. I'm also going to remove his eyes.”

“No . . . my god,
please
 . . .”

“Just talk to me, Jollie. Tell me your story. Somewhere in there, we'll find the truth together.”

“Please don't hurt him anymore.”

“He doesn't feel a thing, I promise. He won't even feel a thing
later
. Not even after I've blinded him. He won't be beautiful either, but that's okay. We all have our crosses to bear.”

He sets down the surgical device.

Gets right in front of her.

Smiles sadly.

And:

“You were right, of course. About me belonging to METRO. I've been with them for more than thirty years.”

I
t takes a second to sink in, then she realizes he's not lying.

The crushing weight of it nearly makes her heart explode.

He pulls something from his pocket and holds it up for her to see. She almost doesn't recognize the thing at first.

It's the cell phone Mark gave her back at the ranch.

“This is a heavy item, Jollie. Issued only to deep-cover guys like me. When I saw that you had it in your pocket, I automatically assumed you were working for METRO as well. I thought it was you who fouled up Razzle Schaeffer's deal and killed all those people. But I was wrong about that, of course. Mark Jones was the operative. I should have known that, right off.”

“Why didn't you? You seem to know everything about everyone.”

“Nobody knows
anything
about
anyone
, Jollie. Not in this gang. I had to have a heart-to-heart conversation with my boss to know what was really going on. He had some eye-opening information to behold. I have to admit, I was very shocked. I was so sure you were one of us.”

“Maybe I really am. How else would I know what METRO even is?”

“Mark Jones told you, obviously. You said as much. And I figure he was bringing you in, yes? That would make sense. You were
made
for this job. I knew that when I saw you come out of the fire. When I saw the surges of raw determination that lived in your struggle for life. That's a power only a few possess—the kind given to us special guys right from birth. So I had to know for sure.”

“Sorry to keep disappointing you.”

“Don't apologize to me. Apologize to poor Andy. I'm now giving you sixty seconds to tell me what I want to know.”

“I could tell you anything right now. To save his life.”

“Oh yes. The old torture-is-unreliable liberal knee jerk, right? I used to call it the ‘Lie of Guantánamo Bay.' Those guys gave what I do a very bad name. But I blame it mostly on the media.”

“What you do is bullshit.”

“No, what
they
do is bullshit. What I do is
truth
. Have you ever felt anything like it, Jollie? The raw power of it? The emotional urgency? This isn't waterboarding or sleep deprivation or making a man wear ladies underpants and insulting his religious beliefs. This is raw, primal
truth
. . .”

He moves the surgical tool toward Andy's face.

“. . . and you now have
thirty seconds to start talking
.”

“I still say you're full of shit. You don't do it for truth. You do it to get off.”

“What if I do? What difference does that make?”

“It makes a difference because it creates different results.”

“It creates perfect results. See, that's why you started crying before. You're terrified of me because I'm capable of anything. Because I get off on it. Because I will stop at nothing. That's when all the best-laid plans go right to hell. That's when even the most hardened badass will start singing like a bird. Because you know I'm a maniac.”

“When did METRO get you, Darian? How old were you?”

“This conversation is over. You haven't given me what I want. So . . .”

He moves back to Andy.

Jollie takes a deep breath, keeping her voice very calm: “I bet you went in young, Darian Stanwell. Real young, right?”

He smiles when he hears her say his last name with such serenity.

“They put you to work in different splinter cells. Got yourself plugged in eventually to the Austin drug scene through the Monster Squad. Just your kind of perverts, right? People who trade in flesh, just like METRO does.”

Darian's blade almost to Andy's burned skin.

“Eddie Darling recruited you because he thought you were fresh talent, but you had him pretty well fooled, right? You were just a double-blind agent bussed in from somewhere else. And he's dead now, because you killed him for revenge. I bet you always wanted revenge on him because he never let your
brother
join up, right? Poor dumb muscle-headed Marnie Stanwell, always holding you back, who never understood what a fucking monster you really were, right up until the minute my boyfriend killed him.”

The knife stops.

“You also wasted Eddie because that's how you rise in rank inside the company, isn't it? You outgrow the control of your superior officers. That would mean that dictators are not promoted. They'd be self-made. That's something Mark never told me. He probably never knew, really—because I bet it's a secret you have to learn on your own. That's how it's always worked, right? They turn you loose in a maze and see how many of you figure out where the cheese really is. It's perfect, isn't it? The best way in the world to run a network of endemic spies and killers. I bet you don't even have any idea who your bosses actually are, do you? The big guys, I mean.”

He holds the knife just over Andy's eye.

He has all the time he needs, after all.

And she's right.

“I know plenty, Jollie. Enough to make you doubt the earth under your feet.”

“Then why are you doing this? Why the torture-and-scare routine? You must be one loyal soldier to hack your way so ruthlessly to the golden goose. Or do you just
get off on it
, Darian?”

“I think we've already established that I do.”

“Then let's stop bullshitting each other. You're just a rat in the maze, like I am. They've used you since you were a kid and never told you what the other hand was doing. You sacrificed everything for it. Your life, your humanity, even your brother.”

“You don't know anything about my brother.”

“I knew his last name, didn't I? I was there when he got killed, wasn't I?”

“You don't know
anything
 . . .”

“Of course I do. He was your polarized mirror image, wasn't he? A dumb fuck. Not smooth or calculated or eloquent like you. That's how it always works. One is good, the other is fucked up. And you go on apologizing for him until the inevitable end.”

“You're very smart, Jollie. But I know what you're doing.”

“All I'm doing is figuring this whole thing out, Darian. It's all becoming so damn clear to me. I'm amazed I didn't see it before. Like you said, I was letting my emotions rule.”

“So . . . tell me, Jollie. What
are
you figuring out? You couldn't possibly comprehend the depth of this particular ocean.”

“I'm not the first person to investigate it. A lot of dictators have access to secret stashes of information, don't they? And a lot of other operatives kill them and see those stashes. That's what you did tonight. To get promoted in the field. You guys need leverage over your employers so they don't kill you. It's like a game of chess. A system of backstabbing that goes all the way up the food chain. You get your hands on the right files, the right names, and everything opens up for you. Then the guys above you make their next move and you play yourself into the right square. And meanwhile, the whole world goes about its business and—”

“The world doesn't
care
about our business. Or
my business
for that matter.”

He says that with a hiss—but not like a snake.

Like a man who's just swallowed his gum.

He smiles, almost choking for a second. Says his next words in a terrible whisper: “That's what makes the world so easy to rule, Jollie. You know that.”

“Sure I do. I know about apathy. I know about the failure of humanity to save itself. But I also know about revolution. I know about people who will fight you.”

“Your people don't even know our names.”

“They will eventually. If you keep using knives to get what you want.”

“How very heroic of you to say. But with one obvious fallacy.” He comes over to her and puts the knife right in her face. “This,” he says loudly. “
This knife
 . . . is TRUTH.”

“You keep saying that. And it all still sounds like bullshit to me.”

“I'm sure it does, Jollie. I'm sure you're telling me what you really think. And you're doing a very good job of buying your friend a few more minutes of sight and wholeness. But when those minutes are over, the truth will hit him to the bone. And that's where the world is now, Jollie. That's where we all stand and where we've always stood. METRO rules the secret world all those revolutionaries of yours cannot see—and they do it with steel and force. I've seen it all my life and will see it long after you are dead.”

“Is that what you said to Eddie Darling?”

“I didn't have to. He already knew. And I didn't kill Eddie, just FYI. He's very much alive. We made a deal and I kept my end. That's how it works with me, Jollie. You look me in the eye and you say the right thing, and you get to go on living. That's what everyone wants in the end. To hang on to a bit more life.”

“I bet Mister Darling isn't much enjoying that life, is he?”

“Well, let's just say he'll never be quite the same again. Would you like to see? I had it piped in, just for you.” He snaps his fingers at one of the white suits. The guy finds a remote and thumbs it. A screen lights up from a nearby wall, thirty-four inches of LED truth.

• • •

A
nd the truth on the wall is a big black man in a straightjacket, staring into oblivion, smiling and frowning, crying and laughing, all at the same time. Thick ropes of drool dangling from his lips. Bloody cracks through the whites of his eyes. You can make out all those details really clearly, all in perfect HD.

The wall behind him is made of clay and a set of handcuffs hangs from it.

She sees it and steels herself, choking back the fear.

• • •

“H
e's quite happy, Jollie. He will be until the day he dies. He'll never know cruelty or horror or anything bad. It's all good, from here on out.”

“Is that what you're going to do to me?”

“Isn't that what everybody wants? To be free of the fear of death?”

“You've . . . turned him into a vegetable.”

“Vegetables need love too. And he has all the love he needs, right in that little room.”

The angle on the screen widens, and she sees a TV in there with him, flickering images that are almost familiar. And then very familiar. It's a movie starring Charlize Theron that she can't remember the name of because she's never seen the whole thing.

Eddie Darling smiles at the images, made love to by phantoms.

• • •

J
ollie gets a grip.

“Not everyone is lobotomized by bad movies,” she says.

“Like who exactly, Jollie? You? I can break your will with a simple injection. Just like I can break the world.”

“The world is full of good people. Strong people.”

“You said that. And I know you believe that.”

Darian backs away and smiles at her. Reaches for his gum. Peels a fresh stick. Clears his throat and pops it in. His terrible sweet breath slimes the air as he chews slowly. “I have to admit, Jollie . . . I admire your perceptive nature. You could go far in the company, if allowed to. Most of our soldiers work for years and go to their graves never knowing they could have murdered a higher-up and gotten promoted in the field. If I were to allow you to live and work for us, you would have that edge going in. But imagine how many other smart soldiers would surround you, Jollie. Imagine the world, laid out in chess squares, all stained in blood.”

“That's the world I've always lived in.”

“Not hardly.”

“Then you don't know nearly as much about
me
as you think you do.”

“I know enough not to underestimate you, or lose my temper under your very skilled tongue. All that needling about my brother. The political jabs. It's an admirable attempt, and I do admire
it. But you'll have to be much smarter to survive this game.”

“So that I can kill you and rise in rank?”

“Maybe you could. You have the edge, after all, of knowing the secret rules. Jake Mudd never knew anything. But he was in the company for just a few years, really. A man like him is doomed to be a flunky for whatever life is left to him. He once wore a white suit and stood in this room with me, in his spare time—just like the three men that surround you now.”

“Just like the other men who guard this place and do your dirty work when you need them to.”

“Of course. Jake stood in the hall with all the children and we looked in the face of true enlightenment so many times. But he never could have been a dictator. I was
made
for it, Jollie. We call it ‘whacking our way to the top.' Would you like to know something really funny?”

“Thrill me.”

“You're so calm under fire now. I like that. I really do.”

“What's funny, Darian? Tell me. I want to know.”

“Okay. Dictators are usually women. Do you know why?”

“Can't imagine.”

“Sure you can. But I'll tell you anyway. It's because they cheat. They use their sex to get ahead. But in the Monster Squad, there are no women. We're all men who
hate
women. You could never rise among
us
, Jollie. You can only
work
for
us. So I'm giving you that chance. I'm recruiting you now. Talk to me and tell the truth. If you don't, I'll do worse than scrape away pretty Andrew's infections and scoop out his eyes. I'll make you watch while I cut everything he has left on his body right off. And he'll never die. He'll be a hunk of raw living meat by the time I'm through. I'll show you the true face of love and freedom in every imaginable shade of red and pulp. Because I love you, Jollie. Even though you are a woman. There are so many sinners who must be redeemed, Jollie. You are a sinner now. But you can repent.”