The Gap into Madness: Chaos and Order (33 page)

“I hope
you’ll call me Maxim, Captain Vertigus,” he replied. “We hardly know each
other, but I would like you to be as open as a friend with me. I’m certainly
prepared to be open with you. I’ll keep this conversation as confidential as
you like, but I think it would be extremely valuable if we could be entirely
frank with each other.”

“Maxim.”
Sixten pursed his lips — an expression which in his opinion made him look like
a desiccated prune, but which he employed deliberately because it used so many
facial muscles that it didn’t betray such emotions as surprise, consternation,
or despair. “I appreciate the courtesy, naturally. Still I must confess — in
the spirit of openness — that you’ve taken me somewhat aback. What are you
prepared to be open with me about?”

“Sixten
—” the Special Counsel began, then paused to ask, “May I call you Sixten?”

Sixten
kept his mouth tight to disguise his relish. “I prefer Captain Vertigus.” To
avoid the impression of rudeness, however, he added, “It’s an honourable title,
and I earned it.”

Maxim
shrugged noncommittally. “Captain Vertigus, then. I’ll answer any questions you
want to ask — any questions at all — about my investigation of Warden Dios and
the UMCP.”

“I see.”
Sixten stifled a grimace with difficulty. The ineffectuality of his admittedly
subtle efforts to ruffle Igensard reminded him of other, more profound
failures. Once again he found himself in the presence of a man with power and
secrets — and he had no idea what to do about it. “And what exactly do you want
me
to be open about?”

“I
would like to ask you a couple of questions,” Maxim replied promptly. His tone
suggested that he knew he was being presumptuous, but felt he had no choice.
His duty was exigent. “The more honestly — and the more fully — you answer
them, the more I’ll benefit. I don’t mean personally, of course, but as the
Special Counsel charged with this investigation by the GCES.”

“I see,”
Sixten repeated. He took a moment to examine his conscience, and found that he
was in no mood for bullshit. “It’s an interesting proposal. Forgive me if I don’t
fall out of my chair hurrying to take you up on it. Frankly, I can’t think of
anything you could tell me that I might want or need to know.

“You
know where I stand — I’ve been holding my ground alone for decades. I support
the UMCP. I oppose the UMC. And my position doesn’t depend on such functional
details as honour or malfeasance. Convince me Holt Fasner is as pure as the
heavens — show me the Number of the Beast etched on Warden Dios’ forehead — and
I’ll say the same. Humankind needs the UMCP. Humankind needs to be rid of the
UMC. We should be discussing matters of structure, not function. But structure,
as I understand it, is outside the mandate of your investigation.”

Then he
shrugged. “However, that doesn’t mean I’m unwilling to answer questions. I’m
just a crotchety old man, not an obstructionist. What do you want to know?”

What
are you after, Special Counsel? What are you trying to get out of me?

While
Sixten spoke, Maxim waited without moving a muscle. He seemed to have an
inexhaustible supply of patience. Nevertheless in some way he appeared to be
shrinking into himself, becoming at once more compact and more dangerous.
Sixten received the disturbing impression that if Maxim ever exploded, the
detonation would be indistinguishable from madness.

“You’re
an interesting man, Captain Vertigus,” Igensard observed deferentially when
Sixten stopped. “It occurs to me that you should be director of the UMCP.”

Sixten
flapped his hands. “Flattery —  he began.

“After
a few decades of Warden Dios,” Maxim continued as if he couldn’t be
interrupted, “what humankind really needs is probity, integrity. Men like Dios
and Lebwohl specialise in moral legerdemain, and we’ve had as much of that as
we can stand. We won’t survive much more. You, on the other hand — you could do
the job in your sleep.”

“— is a
waste of time,” Sixten finished abruptly. “I do everything in my sleep. That
doesn’t make me a fit UMCP director. It makes me
old.

“Go
ahead — ask your questions. When I hear what they are, I’ll decide whether I
want to answer them.”

“Certainly.”
Igensard complied with an air of smugness, as if he’d gained the point he
wanted most. “Captain Vertigus, is there any truth to the rumour that you once
made it your business to investigate Holt Fasner and the UMC?”

Surprised
past his defences, Sixten nodded mutely.

“Forgive
me for asking,” Maxim went on to avoid any impression of discourtesy. “You
understand that anything you did years ago was before my time. I know nothing
about it. You aren’t accountable for rumours, of course. But I couldn’t think
of any way to learn the truth except by coming to you directly.

“Would
you be willing to share what you discovered with me? I mean, with me and my
staff?”

Sixten
tried to purse his mouth again and found that he’d left it hanging open.
Learn
the truth.
He was out of his depth.
Share what you discovered — ?
Age had left him stupid as well as frail. What was going on here?

“Why?”
His throat caught on the words. “Why do you care?”

As he
faced Sixten — without moving, without expression — Maxim’s diffidence began to
look more and more like arrogance. Or cunning.

“I’m
perfectly aware,” he said easily, “that CEO Fasner and his various enterprises
are outside the mandate of my own investigation. But I’m looking for hints, if
you will — patterns of conduct or implication — which will help me put Director
Dios’ actions in context. That is within my mandate. I’m sure you’ll agree that
it is unquestionably germane to inquire whether his rather highhanded style of
law enforcement was ever condoned or encouraged, by CEO Fasner if not by the
GCES. If it was, his excesses become more understandable” — Maxim seemed to
think that this would console Sixten — “perhaps more excusable.

“The
more I know about his background, the more intelligently I can carry out my
commission.”

Now
Sixten grasped the truth. The possibility that someone might value or need the
work he’d done — and lost — years ago frayed and faded like a old man’s brief
dreams. Igensard would only pretend to be disappointed if Sixten told him what
had happened to his research: the question itself was only bait.

Sixten
pressed his hands flat on the desktop to steady them. “You’re still trying to
flatter me.” For a moment anger made his voice hard enough to sound firm. “Why
don’t you just cut all this crap and tell me what you really want? Ask an
honest question. Trust me to give you an honest answer.”

“You
misunderstand me,” Maxim countered disingenuously. “How could I presume to
flatter you? I asked the question for exactly the reasons I’ve stated.

“But
for some reason you’re suspicious of my motives. I won’t try to persuade you
otherwise. If the fact that I’ve come to you in pursuit of my duty as the
Special Counsel charged with this investigation, rather than as a private
individual with an axe to grind, doesn’t make me trustworthy in your eyes,
nothing I can say is likely to change your mind. And if the fact that you’ve
recently become the target of assassins for your beliefs doesn’t convince you
that the issues we face now are serious, my words won’t make a difference.”

Sixten
wanted to retort loudly, but he stifled the impulse. He knew from experience
that his voice sounded weaker when he raised it. Instead he did his best to
produce a sharp rasp.

“You’re
trying my patience, Special Counsel. Anybody who wants me dead for my beliefs
has had years to work on it. If I’m suddenly a target now, something must have
changed, and it isn’t me.” Grimly he risked saying, “Maybe it’s your
investigation.”

Maxim
remained unruffled; unmoved. “I don’t see how that can be true,” he mused. “If
it is, however, I would expect you to be eager to co-operate with me. You’re in
danger until whatever lies behind that attack is exposed. My investigation is
your best hope.”

“Bullshit,”
Sixten snorted. He was too vexed to choose his words carefully. “You forget who
you’re talking to. I
support
the UMCP. I
oppose
the UMC.”

If
anything threatens me, you smug egomaniac, your investigation is as good a
candidate as any.

That
reached the Special Counsel. His brows went up; a small flush tinged his
cheeks. He continued to sit still, as if he were relaxed, but his voice
hardened.

“I
reject the inference, Captain Vertigus. It’s insulting, and I don’t deserve it.”

Then a
look of calculation came into his eyes. “Unless you’re trying to tell me
without quite saying so that your involvement with the UMCP goes beyond mere
support. That you are engaged with Warden Dios in dealings which have earned
you enemies who want you dead.”

Sixten
was so pleased by this near miss that he wanted to laugh. “What? Me and Godsen
Frik? That isn’t just wrongheaded, Special Counsel — it’s silly.”

Maxim
replied with a tense frown. “I see you’re determined to play games with me.”
His irritation — the fact that he could be irritated — made him seem both
physically larger and emotionally less dangerous. “Clearly there is little to
be gained by continuing this conversation.”

But he
didn’t rise from his chair.

“I
would be derelict, however,” he went on in the same tone, “if I didn’t ask one
more question. Out of respect for your years and experience, if not for your
views, I wouldn’t trouble you. But this is too crucial to be dismissed, Captain
Vertigus.”

Sixten
held his breath while he waited for Igensard to finally get to the point.

“President
Len informs me that you have legislation which you wish to introduce at the
next Council session” — he didn’t need to consult a chronometer — “in eighteen
hours. He says that you’ve claimed Senior Member’s privilege to place your
legislation first on the agenda, that other matters will have to be postponed
until your bill has been presented, and that you decline to reveal the nature
or even the general subject of your bill.

“Captain
Vertigus, I must ask you to tell me what kind of legislation you propose to
introduce.”

Ah.
Sixten let his breath out with a sigh. The truth at last. For this Maxim had
flattered him; offered to share the results of his own investigation; reminded
him that his life was in danger. Sixten had suspected as soon as Maxim Igensard
asked to see him that the conversation would come to this. That was why he sat
here with a channel open on his private intercom.

He
should have pretended surprise; but he didn’t bother.

“Forgive
me, Special Counsel. I don’t mean to be rude. But that’s none of your goddamn
business.”

“You
disappoint me, Captain Vertigus.” Maxim didn’t sound disappointed. He was
shrinking again, consolidating himself around his hot core. “In that case, I
must ask — no, I must demand — that you yield your privilege to Eastern Union
Senior Member Sen Abdullah. Or, if you consider that undignified, yield to your
own Junior Member, Sigurd Carsin.

“This
is not a trivial matter, and I don’t insist on it lightly. But the safety of
human space hangs in the balance. As long as Warden Dios remains Director of
the United Mining Companies Police, we are effectively defenceless.

“You
must yield, Captain Vertigus. My business with the Council must take precedence.”

Sixten
took pride in holding Igensard’s gaze squarely.

“No.”

For a
moment the Special Counsel seemed to think that he would gain what he wanted if
he simply met Sixten’s stare without blinking; that Sixten would fold under
that small pressure. But Sixten had an equally simple defence against such
tactics: with his eyes open and his face calm, he took a short nap.

When he
awakened a few heartbeats later, he found that Maxim had risen to his feet in
exasperation.

“You’re
a fool, Captain Vertigus — an old fool.” Hints of brutality lay behind his cold
tone. “You’re implicated in Dios’ malfeasance, and when he falls, you’ll fall
with him.”

He
reached for the door without saying good-bye.

Pleased
by his own equanimity, Sixten drawled, “I can think of worse fates.”

At that
the Special Counsel turned back. His eyes glittered like chips of mica, and his
features were dense with anger.

“I’ll
tell you something I’ve learned,” he said softly, ominously. “You haven’t asked
— you aren’t interested in ‘functional details’ — but I’ll tell you anyway.

“Angus
Thermopyle was arrested for stealing supplies from Com-Mine Station. There didn’t
seem to be any other explanation, so he was presumed to have an accomplice in
Com-Mine Security. That ‘functional detail’ broke the opposition to the Preempt
Act. It gave Dios the last piece of authority he needed to become the only
effective power in human space.

“But
who was Thermopyle’s accomplice?” Although Maxim kept his voice quiet, he
wielded it like a bludgeon. “Who did he pay off? Hashi Lebwohl tells us it was
Deputy Chief Milos Taverner — the same man who somehow managed to help
Thermopyle escape from UMCPHQ right under Dios’ nose. That sounds plausible,
doesn’t it? — if you assume UMCPHQ Security is lax enough to let something like
that happen. And it’s consistent with the fact that Taverner did a great deal
of off-Station banking. His records are still sealed — I don’t have
authorisation to open them — but for a mere deputy chief he had an enormous
number of transactions.