ASSOCIATION / CH. 10:CHANGES
FRIDAY 5TH JAN 2272, 9A.M. MAXIMUM SECURITY UNIT.
“You're a new one.” Roland Underwood said, deciding she was young and therefore corruptible.
“Oh, you do still have the power of speech. And you're much too late to corrupt me.”
He stared at her in shock.
“Oh come on Underwood, you didn't really think you were unique, did you? The great master criminal builds his entire empire on the thought that he's one of a kind?”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Now that is really pathetic. This would be so much easier if you could could still hear thoughts. But you got yourself trapped, didn't you. Too careless, too ignorant.”
“I don't have to sit here and listen to these insults. You're just trying to get me to incriminate myself anyway.”
“Oh don't be stupid. Or maybe you're just totally ignorant. Were you told who I am?”
“No. Just another person from security.”
“And you didn't think to ask why, did you?”
“No doubt my sister or one of her flunkies sent you.”
Vivian laughed, mockingly. “Oh you really are ignorant, aren't you? I've read your statements, by the way, all the manic ravings. I think I even saw your sister once, but sorry, wrong department. Let me tell you something: you're wrong. You weren't caught by witches, you were caught by interfering Christians. Witches wouldn't bother handing you over to the police. If you had witches after you then you'd be in far greater trouble. Had any nightmares recently? Want some? That's an easy curse, very effective. The spirits think that's a lovely game, pouring nonsense into peoples minds. Flames are so pretty too. Especially when an itsy-bitsy birthday candle turns into a flame thrower, that's a second level spell. I learned that when I was about eighteen, if I remember right. And now I'm in auditing and my boss thinks that maybe since I'm a thought hearer I might be able to persuade you to talk. Or think. What a lovely coincidence, isn't it? Oh so very kind of him. I get to learn all the nasty little secrets you've learned over the years. That could be very useful.
You may call me... mistress. I like a little respect from people now and again. And you said it. You ought to be groveling at my feet, old man. You lost your power, so you're just a normal now.” she put as much scorn into that word as she could, “but I still have mine. Plus I've been initiated into the fourth grade of witchcraft, when most only ever dream of attaining the third. I have learned more spells and can call on more power than you can ever imagine. So plan to grovel, old man.”
“I want my lawyer.”
She poured more scorn and disdain into her voice, “And your teddy too? Didn't you hear me, old man, I'm from auditing. You have the right to keep on breathing, you have the right to answer my questions without fear of reprisals, you're a civilian, I'm not after you. I can't touch you, well, not in terms of the law. And I don't particularly want your stinky skin near mine either. But we've got a nice iron table here, so maybe you should just hold that. I presume you know about iron?”
“I'm not stupid.”
“Yes you are, you got caught. Reeled in like a confused little fish. I have no intention of getting caught. I don't believe you're insane by the way. We've had plenty of testimony that you've long planned to feign insanity. So now you're going to tell me all about your little network. One way or another.” She flexed her fingers towards his throat, and stared him down. It wasn't hard, she'd practiced on cats, after all, before starting on the other witches in the coven.
“Guard!” he called.
“Oh, don't waste your breath. This interview is operating under Auditing rules. You can tell me everything and none of it comes back on your head, Mr normal civilian. So, we can't let anyone else listen in, can we? They're not Auditing, it's for your own good, you see. I say my little speech, show my ID, and all the microphones turn off and the guards don't even stand outside the door. They call us the bastion of public trust; that's a laugh, isn't it? Me? Bastion of the public trust.” She gave an evil laugh. “You don't become a witch because you want people to trust you. No one trusts witches, not even you. You're sensible about that at least, I suppose.”
“GUARD!”
“He can't hear you. No, you become a witch for power. And it occurred to me that Auditing has power too, doesn't it? Power to make people stop listening, for instance. And I wrote it down, plain for all to see on my application. Witch! Want to see a copy? They just shrugged and said 'That's an unusual religion!' Freedom of religion, eh! Isn't that so wonderful? I'm a bona-fide member of auditing, so you may speak freely, Mr Underwood, or think if you prefer. Anything you say will be written down and may be used against erring civil servants in a court of law. Or maybe not in a court of law, maybe just used against them. After all, power on it's own is boring, wouldn't you say, Underwood? Money is nice to have, but that can be traced so easily. But friends in the right places, that's ever so nice isn't it? Always useful. I'm sure there are people who are really happy you're behind bars, aren't there? Tell me who they are. Tell me the levers you used against them. Tell me... everything Mr Underwood. It would be so sad for you to suffer an accident sometime, wouldn't it? Witches don't need human henchmen to knock people off bicycles, Roland. Oh, no. And electrical faults can be so devastating to fail human flesh, can't they? And no one's ever invented a prison that a spirit can't get into. I know I was told when I was an initiate that they're friendly spirits. And they can pretend to be, when it suits them. You can pretend to be friendly, civilised, a pillar of the community too, I understand. But right now you're just a tiny bit terrified, aren't you? That's only sensible. So, I'm sure you don't want me as an enemy, do you?”
“No.”
“No what? I told you what to call me.”
“No, mistress.”
“You don't mind me knowing if you're lying, do you? It's your own free choice, totally, totally free. If you don't mind, then just hold the table.”
“No, mistress.”
He started speaking, and Vivian wrote down the list, asking for clarification in places. It was a long list, and he didn't lie, or conceal anything. She wrote, not betraying any horror at the depths of his crimes. He got to the end. She then asked him about his plans, his associates, why he thought he'd taken the course in life he had. Whether he thought his life had been well spent, now that he knew he wasn't unique, now that he was estranged from his daughter and his sister. He answered truthfully, that no, maybe it hadn't been worth it.
In her normal tone of voice, not playing power games any more, she said “Thank you Mr Underwood. Your government thanks you, And I thank you. I want you to know something. Everything I told you, it was true. But you needn't fear me.”
“No? Why not. You're a witch of the fourth grade whatever that means, with demons at your command.”
“I was. But learning that the friendly spirits were demons was a bit of a shock to my faith, you might say. Especially when they decided I made a good target. So I did something on Sunday night that I might die for. I've left the coven.”
“And done what, joined a church instead?”
“Yes. Joined the Church instead. I don't want to play who's the biggest sinner, but I will say to you, you've just confessed your sins to me, and said that they probably weren't worth it. God wants you to say the same to him.”
“Then you did lie to me. You said you could call on more power than I could imagine.”
“I didn't lie. I can call on the power of God.”
“And he'll answer?” he spoke with derision.
“Think about it, I exchanged demons and magic that worked, for God. Now why would I do that? Because when God speaks the demons shut up, when Christians speak, the demons quail. God is far stronger than demons. You get what you need though, not what you want. But that's OK by me. Getting what I wanted almost got me killed on numerous occasions, and almost blown up when I didn't want it. The other thing God gives me, along with forgiveness, is a clean conscience.”
“I don't even know what that means.” He still had his hands on the table.
“A lie.” she said “And since your sister and daughter are Christians, I wouldn't be surprised if you turning to God would be a very good thing for your relationship with them.”
“You really are trying hard, aren't you, to save my soul? Using all the levers you can think of. You've got a problem though.”
“What's that?”
“Your God ripped my power from me in response to do-gooders like you. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To find the world's gone quiet like that, to lose your sixth sense? Do you have any idea?”
“Did no one ever teach you how to hide your thoughts?”
“What's that?”
“Temporarily disable your power. Of course they didn't — you thought you were unique. Foolish, deluded man. Roughly speaking the statistics seem to be one per thousand. Yes, I know what it is like when I make the world go quiet. I imagine it wouldn't be pleasant when that is done to you, but if you, for a tiny fraction of a minute, think about the lives you've ruined, then perhaps you'll realise that you did need your wings clipped. It was a chance to reevaluate and take stock. This I expect is your last such chance.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that through a careful mixture of acting and out of date truth, I tricked you into a very vulnerable state. That was required of me by my superiors. What I've been saying since I put down my pen is me, Vivian, ex-witch. It's not required of me by my religion, it's not required of me by my new friend Eliza. She doesn't know I'm here, as far as I know. But I'm certain she'd like her father to reconsider his life.”
“You know my daughter?”
“Yes. Not very well, but we've talked together, prayed together for various things. Including for you. My story gave her hope, you see, that even someone who did the terrible things I've done could be saved. You've done terrible things too, over a longer period, but you at least, tried to save your daughter.” Vivian stood and gathered her notes. “Goodbye, Mr Underwood, Auditing thanks you for your help in rooting out corruption, I'm sorry that I had to trick you into it.”
“Help in undoing my life's work. Oh yes, well thank you for the 'opportunity' to help, I'm sure.” He said, not missing the irony at all.
“Mr Underwood, I heard your confession, and I heard your honest regret at at least some of the choices you made. I'll pray that you will be wise enough to think truly long term, and will choose to sort out your relationship with God.”
“You've heard my crimes and yet still pray for me?” this young woman was still surprising him.
“God has even forgiven me, Mr Underwood. I'm sure he can forgive you.” She triggered the lock-release on the door and left the interview room.
The guards came in a little later “Come one, then Roland. Back to your cell. Did you have a nice chat with the young lady from Auditing?”
“Oh yes, field-Marshall, it was great fun. The wicked little witch turned my bones to jelly and offered me eternal torment as she sucked all the secrets out of my brain, one by one. I even shouted for help a couple of times.”
“Really? I never head a thing.” One guard said.
“Me neither.” the other agreed.
“She could have killed me in here and you wouldn't know or do a thing, would you?”
“Ah, well, you see, what with you being a drain on the state that you are and an evil conniving megalomaniac, if we found her doing that, then we'd probably cheer her on.” Guard one said.
“And maybe you'd foolishly try to head-butt my steel toe cap a few times as I was running to help prevent your escape attempt.” Guard two added grinning. Roland was used to it. So far, it had only been words. He didn't mind those sorts of words — idle threats. But that woman, Vivian, her words went deeper. She had started out sounding like a more dangerous version of himself at that age, and he recognised the superiority of her stated plan. She had truly presented herself as a thing of his nightmares, the sort of person that would be able to rip his plans to shreds, and that'd made him utterly utterly vulnerable. Then, that change of face, the relief he'd felt when she said she was no threat to him and then the way she'd offered him the only things that might matter to him: his daughter and sister back again, and a clean conscience. He wasn't likely to be this close to giving in to God again. Was he sorry? Did he regret his life? He regretted getting himself here, that was certain.
One of the guards poked him, “Oi, wakey-wakey, you've just been asked a question.”
“What was it?”
“If your bones are jelly and your brain's have been sucked out, then do you want another visitor?”
“I get a choice?”
“Yes. Family visitor: your sister.”
“Here? Now?”
“You really were out of it, weren't you? Yes, your sister's here.”
“What does she want?”
“I don't know.” Guard one said.
“I think she wants to talk to you for some reason.” Guard two added, “Can't think why, unless it's to save your soul, of course.”
“Too late.” Guard one offered, “I think Roland here sold it for a bar of chocolate when he was five.”
“I'll talk to her.” Roland said.
“Back we go then. This counts as a busy day for you, doesn't it? Must really cut into your time for making futile plans for world domination.”
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FRIDAY 5TH JAN 2272, 10 A.M. OFFICE OF THE NEW REPUBLICAN POST.
The phone rang, Dan answered.
“Mr Wyatt, my name's Eliza Smythe, I'm calling in relation to your visit to the palace this evening.”
“Yes?”
“You made an enquiry about journalistic freedom.”
“I have? Oh, yes, sorry, of course I have.”
“There are a number of different laws that might apply, but basically, if you don't endanger anyone or spread things you've been told are secrets you're fine. You may report on getting and confirming the invitation, your personal reaction, the cooking, the decor, and whatever comes up in the conversation, as long as it doesn't stray into areas of national security, or any official secrets. You shouldn't talk about security procedures except in general terms, or identify where the rooms you enter are relative to the rest of the palace complex. That would include references to things like sunlight or shadows that would indicate which side of the building you're on. You shouldn't name any members of security you meet, including me. If the royal family are in agreement you may take and publish pictures or video including them, but again, if there are agents present then their faces should be cut, masked or blurred before publication. Like anyone else, the royal family have the right to not give permission for embarrassing photos of them being published, like if they get caught mid-yawn or such like. You are also welcome to take pictures of the kids learning archery for their parents and other relatives, and as long as no one ever publishes them they can show faces. Publishing, of course, includes putting them in a school paper or the family's photo sharing site. Therefore, I'd recommend you think of making a hard-copy for memory's sake and then blurring the digital version. Is that all clear?”
“Don't put people at risk, don't embarrass people with bad timing, or publish names or faces of people in Security. That sounds entirely reasonable, thank you. I hadn't expected us to have such a wide-ranging permission.”
“Sir, the royal family are civil servants too. They have a different role to most, but, ultimately they are servants of the nation with very few of the freedoms you or even I take for granted. I don't know, but I believe one of the reasons you have this invitation is so that you can witness that they are people as well as heads or future heads of the state.”
“Thank you for sharing that thought, Ms Smythe.”
“I'll see you later, Mr Wyatt, have a good afternoon.”
“What thought?” Catherine asked.
“That they're human as well as heads of the state.”
“We know that.”
“We do, but does it come out in our writing? Are we going thinking we can maybe make fun of the heir to the throne's cooking, or are we going thinking we've got a rare chance to meet some important people in their home, and talk about significant things with them?”
“Can't it be both?”
“Maybe. Anyway, that was Eliza Smythe, and it sounds like she's the Eliza who's going to be teaching archery. And we can take photos for family use that include faces but not publish them.”
“I heard not publishing. And that's it, that list you said?”
“Pretty much. Nothing about where the Royal appartments are in the complex, ask before you film or snap. The other thing she said was they have very few of the rights that we enjoy.”
“True. They can't put themselves at risk, constitution says so. I guess that affects all sorts of things.”
“Like spontaneity. Escaping for a private walk somewhere.”
“Have you followed the fuss about Eliza's clothes?”
“Not really.”
“She spoke out about the habit the clothing industry has of fighting to get her and the queen to wear their clothes as though their bodies were publicly owned prime advertising space. Described it as a total waste of everyone's time and money, and why couldn't she wear the off the peg end-of season's bargains like she had all her life? You'd think she'd declared war on every woman's magazine and fashion editor in the land.”
“She has. She's just described the entire fashion industry as surplus to requirements.”
“Your point being?”
“Pardon?”
“It is surplus to requirements. Actually, I'm pretty sure it's parasitic. Most of what the top fashion industry makes is only of interest to ultra-rich models, who get rich because advertising pays lots of money to get them to wear unsuitable clothes. I think it would be an interesting economic study to find out how much we'd save on our annual shopping bill if the whole high-fashion industry folded. I'm not talking about high-street fashions, you understand, that serves a useful purpose of giving school girls somewhere to work. Plus there seems to be something in men that makes them want to put pretty clothes on the women they love. We can't go denying them that, or there'd be anarchy.”
“Is that a hint?”
“NO! Don't you dare, Dan. Two dates does not give you the right to buy me clothes.”
“Just checking.”
“Anyway, I'm fully with Eliza on that one. She should be able to buy what she likes.”
“I haven't seen you writing on that.”
“I'm not brave enough. I don't want to end up being called the unfashionable correspondent or something. But if we've got time, I might be very tempted to get some quotes from Eliza on the matter.”
“Good idea.”
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FRIDAY 5TH JAN 2272, 11 A.M MAXIMUM SECURITY UNIT.
“Hello, Maria. Nice of you to show up. Good timing actually.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really. I've just been reduced to a snivelling wreck by someone in Auditing.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. I didn't think that was possible.”
“She cheated.”
“I imagined that would be necessary. Are you laying a formal complaint against her?”
“What? No. No, she did her job wonderfully. Probably deserves a commendation or something. But she got me thinking.”
“You are in a very unusual mood, Roland.”
“I'm not sure what mood I'm in, Maria. Half an hour ago, I was sitting in this room, I think it was this one, anyway, they all look the same, listing all my corrupt officials and the levers I had on them to a woman hardly older than Eliza, and I was absolutely terrified that if I lied she'd swat me like an annoying bug. I was sure that I was facing someone my match in cunning and far more powerful than me.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And then, after I'd answered her every question as though I was on some kind of truth serum, I guess it was the truth serum called abject terror, she said, in a bright cheery voice don't worry, you don't need to be afraid of me, and proceeded to try to save my soul.”
“Did she tell you her name?”
“She did. At first she told me to call her mistress, and I did.”
“What on earth were you afraid of, Roland?”
“She could hear my thoughts, she'd read my statements, and everything else, and she claimed to be a witch, well, no. She said she'd written it on her application form. I have no doubt that she was one, actually. I could see her in the role, perfectly. Oh the scorn she poured on your precious institutions, and freedom of religion. She was wonderful. Imagine, someone as ruthless as I was, with better control of her power than I ever had, insinuating herself into Auditing, with demons on her side. It ought to be your worst nightmare, sister. She dominated me entirely, she's used to absolute domination, that was clear. She spoke about how easy it was to set nightmares on people, and how easily demons could fry people with an electrical fault, no matter if people couldn't get to me. She implied that she'd arranged that her boss send her here so she could pick my brains, and then she listened to my thoughts as I gibbered out the absolute truth to everything she asked.
She even told me I didn't have to let her listen, emphasised it was my free choice. Just the context she said it in, I was sure that I'd be waking up with demons plugging me into the mains if I didn't. And then she thanked me for cooperating and said sorry for misleading me. It was very very cleverly done. I have no doubt that everything she told me was the truth, but I got all the implications she wanted me to get, and they were terrifying. And she could have left me terrified, but she didn't. It was like she cared. It was such a shock. She said her name was Vivian.”
“Yes. I guessed. We don't have many witches with the power in Security.”
“You know her then? She said she'd seen you once.”
“Like you said, Roland, it ought to be our worst nightmare.”
“She got me to confess everything you know. Even got me to admit that I regretted ruining my relationship with you and Eliza. Then she told me I ought to tell God that, and it was probably my last chance. That I should be wise enough to consider my really long term future.”
“And she got through?”
“Not entirely. I resisted, she left. I didn't immediately fall on my knees, you know? Like she said, long term planning, that's normally my forte but it can't be rushed.”
“I agree, as long as you don't use that as an excuse to postpone it until it's too late.”
“She said something else. That if I really turned my back on my past, then you and Eliza might be in my future. I lied to you by the way, about that bomb. I didn't want you blown up.”
“Do you know, Roland, this is probably the closest thing we've had to a normal conversation we've had since you tortured me over the neighbor's cat. If we keep on at this rate then I won't cry myself to sleep for a week about my little brother being a monster. I'd like that. You really confessed everything?”
“I was fully convinced she'd send demonic torments on me if I didn't. She got everything. All my contacts, all the levers, what they've done for me in the past, everything.”
“Roland, if you acknowledge the existence of demons, why not God?”
“I acknowledge there are forces I don't understand. I don't understand how my power vanished in that take-away, I don't understand how your informers got their information, to take everything apart. I don't even really understand how Karen got out of the tunnels or her friend Priscilla got out of her freezer. I put it down to witchcraft, but Vivian was quite convincing that witchcraft wouldn't have given those results. I thought God didn't ever intervene. But I don't understand why you're here either, Maria. You ought to know all about Vivian's visit.”
“Why?”
“Because otherwise you've come to visit me just in the hour or two when I was evaluating what my future would be like if we were on proper talking terms, and that's much too unlikely for coincidence.”
“I've planned to come and see you today since before Christmas. At that time, Vivian was still a happy little witch planning on corrupting another few youths' innocence. I'd lay the coincidence firmly at God's door. He's the only one able to plan that well. You told her everything you'd done. She wrote down everything she'd done for her superiors, and I was asked to read it. I did, and then slapped a 'do not read' order on it.” Maria shuddered. “If it wasn't so valuable, I'd order it destroyed.”
“She said she knew God would forgive me because he'd forgiven her.”
“Yes. I'd say that was pretty powerful evidence.”
“But how does she know God's forgiven her? How do you know.”
“Because there's very clear evidence of it that I've been told but you haven't. For what it's worth, I have no doubts at all.”
“She also said that she'd been talking to Eliza.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Did she? Well, I guess she has then.”
“What are you doing letting a witch get into the palace, Maria?”
“Oh, I don't think she's been to the palace.”
“Then how have they been talking? Why have they been talking? Do you normally give out Eliza's contact details to anyone who asks? Why are you putting my daughter at risk?” Maria heard the concern growing rapidly in his voice.
“Roland, I can't answer those questions, but I can tell you that Eliza's well protected, and that Vivian is no risk to Eliza.”
“She could have hoodwinked you. She's a supreme actress!”
“Roland, stop this, you're getting paranoid. Vivian wanted you to turn to God, didn't she? Why would she be faking her faith?”
“It's all a plan to get at my Eliza through me. She's got you wrapped round her finger hasn't she?”
“No, Roland it's not a plan, she's not got us anywhere. It's all about you being a little bit insane where any threat to your daughter is concerned.”
“Vivian said I was sane.”
“Yes. I would have said the same thing until just now. Then you decided that Vivian was a threat to Eliza, which is absolutely stupid. You're a much bigger threat to her than Vivian.”
“I'm not a threat to Eliza.”
“No? You know a state secret about her, brother mine, and you're a known psychopath.”
“Vivian's an unknown psychopath, but shhh, Maria! The guards are listening.”
“They're going to stop listening if they value their liberty, but good thought, apart from calling Vivian a psychopath. Hold on.”
Maria unkeyed the door and said “I'm about to call my niece. As you've probably just heard my brother is rather crazy concerning his daughter and I'm planning to reassure him. Matters which are state secrets may be discussed. The rest of this interview is entirely private.”
“But Maam, your safety...” Guard one protested.
“I'll hit my panic button if I need help. All microphones off.”
“Video?” Guard one asked.
“There are people who can lipread. No video.”
“We'll need authorization, Maam.” Guard two said.
“Who from, his Majesty?” Maria asked, sarcastically.
“Mrs Gibson has all the authority she needs, thicko.” the first guard assured his colleague. “At once, Maam. We'll need to relay your instructions to control, we don't control the cameras from here.”
“Very well. I'll give them about thirty seconds to comply.”
He gulped. “Very well, Maam.”
She shut the door and sat down. “Would it reassure you to hear Eliza tell you Vivian's no threat?”
“I guess so. How does she know?”
“I'll let you ask her that, assuming she's free to talk.” Maria called Eliza.
“Eliza, sorry to interrupt whatever you're doing.”
“That's OK, Maria, how can I help?”
“I'm visiting my brother. He's just had a visit from Vivian, who spooked him, got him to tell him everything he ever did, and then reassured him she wasn't as scary as she'd had him believe and got him thinking about God. Now he's spooked again thinking that maybe the reassurance was the fake bit of her visit, and he's very worried that we're letting Vivian talk to you. So, the question is, how do we know Vivian's a Christian. Monitors are off, guards are nowhere they could be listening. At least, not if they value their freedom.”
“And we presume communication networks are all tapped?”
“That's very true.”
“I'll speak to my father a bit then.” When Maria had told her the wrist unit was on speaker, she said, “Hello, Dad. Will you trust me to say that I know, without a doubt that Vivian is a true Christian, that she's abandoned witchcraft, burned her spell books and is now an entirely trustworthy person?”
“She tricked me. That's not trustworthy.”
“She told you some partial truths so that you could draw your own conclusions, yes. And then, you'll remember, she told you what she'd done.”
“To lure me into a false sense of security.”
“No, so you wouldn't be terrified more than was needed to get you to admit your guilt and put a stop to your evil plans.”
“They're stopped anyway.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Liz.”
Eliza let that pass “Dad, if your evil plans are stopped, then you could have very easily told the courts the truth, couldn't you? I trust Vivian far more than I trust you.”
“Why!? Maria says you've never met, but it sounds like your closest friends.”
“I wouldn't say we're closest friends, but yes, I know her, she's a friend, and she's trustworthy. She talked about being able to call on power you can't imagine, didn't she?”
“How do you know that?”
“She told me, Dad. We're in contact, especially about you. One thing she can do is talk to me, that's calling on a sort of power, isn't it? And if you don't think that's much more than you can imagine, then Maria, if he's safe with delta, he's probably safe with an epsilon, and maybe even an alpha. Vivian's trustworthy, Dad. You can trust what she told you about God. He's good.”
“He took my power from me.”
“Good. You were using it for evil. Think for a moment, would Maria be in the same room as you if you still had it? Would she be letting you be talk to me? The way you used your power cut you off from the people you claim to love, Dad. I'd say stripping you of your power was a major blessing.” She paused, and then added “Dad, I don't think you're going to get to my wedding whatever you do. But I don't want to see you go to hell. Plan that far in advance please.” She hung up.
“She hung up on me.”
“Did she reassure you?”
“She confused me some more. God stripping me of my power was a blessing? You wouldn't be here otherwise?”
“She's right there.”
“And what was that about greek letters?”
“It means I've got her permission to tell you how she knows without doubt that Vivian is a Christian, and possibly why the entire basis for your plan to take over the monarchy was entirely flawed from the very beginning.”
“Kipling never wrote that in the kingdom of the blind the one eyed man is king?”
“Kipling? No! It was someone much earlier. Erasmus maybe?”
“Whoever, it doesn't matter. Why is that flawed?”
“You know you're not the only human with the power, I hope. His Majesty has speculated that maybe our joint ancestor, 'Princess' Sarah's mother, was as successful a con-artist as she was because she had the power. You had a half-trained eye and an over-inflated ego, brother. Your daughter has two eyes and sees very clearly indeed. Round the world if she wants to. She can know with absolute certainty. If Eliza says Vivian's on the right side, then have no fear, she is.”
“I don't understand, Maria.”
“Eliza has the mind-reading gift, Roland. Just like the people who helped rescue Karen, and who listened to Priscilla thinking 'I don't want to blow up.' when you stuffed her in her freezer with a bomb. Just like the one who risked his own life to look at the evil you'd set in motion, in order to save all those lives. If you turn back to active evil then your daughter will probably see it as her duty to thwart you. Please don't do that to her.”
“My little girl? My little girl can read minds? Properly?”
“Yes, Roland. Don't feel too proud. I've met some people who were given the gift who'd never had the power to start with. It's God's choice, not genetics.”
“What were you saying about the King?”
“Both lines have the power in them, Roland. If you'd ever shaken hands with his father, the two of you could have had a quiet conversation.”
Roland looked at her in shock and bewilderment as he understood the implications. He curled up in a ball on his chair, like he had done when he was four or five, Maria remembered. “It was all for nothing at all?”
“In the grand scheme of things? Nothing at all. All you've done is ruin lives. Mine, yours, Eliza's, all those people you had killed, their brothers, sisters, parents, spouses and childten. All because you had a genetic mutation that the then-king had too. What you need, brother, is a very heavy dose of remorse.”
“And to tell your God I'm sorry?”
“Well, that wouldn't come amiss. It won't bring back the dead, or help heal broken hearts, of course.”
“I didn't think they mattered.”
“Egotistical, psychopathic, homicidal madman, I know. That just makes me feel really proud to be your big sister. The only good thing is our parents died before they found out what you had turned into.”
“I'm sorry, Maria.” He was still in his ball, deep in thought, she presumed. A minute later he asked “Why are you here?”
“Pardon?”
“Why are you here? Why did you come?”
“Because every so often I get this stupid hope that one day my little brother might realise he's been wrong most of his life.”
“Like today.”
“Yes. And I'm a really crazy optimist, because my hope goes further, and I hope that my little brother might turn to God, and that way I won't need to be scared of him any more, and I won't need to be scared of what you're doing, or planning, and I won't need to be terrified to read the day's news and wonder how many of those mysterious accidents are your doing, and I won't need to think of how many families were ruined because I wasn't brave enough to tell on you before it was too late.”
“You tried.”
“I know.”
“They didn't listen.”
“You were daddy's pride and joy. You were my pride and joy before you went bad. My clever little brother who could understand everything I was studying when he was five years old.”
“Was she right?”
“About what?”
“That if I turn to God then it would be a very good thing for my relationship with you and Liz.”
“Of course it would be. But your daughter doesn't like to be called Liz.”
“There's a reason I call her that.”
“Oh, with you there's a reason for everything.”
“Not always. There's not a reason that it hurts when you're upset with me.”
“There's a reason for that, too. It's called being family.”
“How do I do it?”
“Turn to God?”
“Yes.”
“You want to?”
“Vivian said this was probably my last chance. You saw where my thoughts went. If you hadn't been here then I'd be sure she was a witch, that she'd been trying to confuse me even more. I'm not sane; not all the time. I might die mad, but I don't want to die bad.”
“Is there a prison chaplain?”
“Probably. Why?”
“Because if you're going to become a Christian, then it's good to have other Christians around you.”
“There's some kind of prisoners' group. Someone told me I'd be welcome. I think I called him something rude.”
“You'd better say sorry to him then.”
“What to I pray, Maria?”
“You really want to turn to God now?”
“I'm going to change my mind later.”
“What, regret you did it?”
“No. I mean strike while the iron is hot. Don't put it off. There's another reason.”
“What's that?”
“I'm not well. Probably fatal, the doctor says, he just doesn't know how long.”
“What is it?”
“Brain damage. I've known about it for years, they found it when I was about thirty, I think. It's not cancer, but it is slowly growing. The doctor now says that based on how fast it's growing, it probably started when I was about seven or eight.”
“When you went bad?”
“When you went to college and I experimented with drug cocktails and went bad, yes. Right now I'm sane, I don't know if I'll stay sane. Doctor said I might just not wake up one day, or I might live to an old age completely ga-ga, and the switch to ga-ga might be slow or instant. It all depends on which bit it grows to and when.”
“And you've known all this a long time?”
“Since I got here, and they decided to work out why I was such a lovely specimen of humanity.”
“So, you're convinced that you want to join up with the people you used to despise?”
“Yes, yes, yes! I thought you'd be happy.”
“I will be when it happens, Roland, I just... can't believe you're serious.”
“Tell me what to say, please, Maria. I need God's help. Staying sane is a struggle. The guards out there would only be too happy to see me 'accidentally' fall on something sharp, or try to disable one of them by head-butting their steel toe-capped boots; the other prisoners look at me like I'm a either going to sprout horns and cloven hooves or come up with a plan to get them out of here by a using a plastic spoon and a toothbrush to make a laser gun. I'm tired of fighting. My daughter's got herself into the palace by being good, and even my plan to oust the present occupant of the throne on the basis of superior genetics is a total fraud. What's the point in being evil? Like you say, all it's done is ruin things that I find I do actually care about. I don't want to stay your enemy, Maria. I've never wanted to be Eliza's. Tell me what I need to pray, please. I never did pay attention at Sunday School, and it was a long time ago.”
“Then Roland, say something like this, after me,” she started and leaving pauses for him to repeat, she said: “God, I know I've lived my life rebelling against you, breaking your laws and treating people you made as though they had no value. I know I deserve to be locked up here, I know I deserved to lose the power I was born with, I know that my crimes deserve death and I have no way to earn my forgiveness. Thank you that you still love me, thank you that you want to turn my life round and forgive me, thank you that you've given me this chance, thank you for your promise that everyone who calls to you for forgiveness will be forgiven and saved. I turn my back on my old way of thinking, on my self-worship and on my evil plans and deeds. Thank you for Jesus' death and resurrection, through which I can be saved. Be my lord and my saviour, I pray. Take my sins and wash them clean, take my will and make it yours, break my rebellious heart of stone and give me a living heart that bows to you and you alone. Help me to know your love and learn to love you with all my heart and soul and strength. Give me your spirit in my heart and mind to teach me and guide me, as you have promised, let me be born again into a right relationship with you, and people around me, give me words to explain my trust in you and my new love for you. Help me to find people wherever I am who will encourage me in my walk with you, and whom I can encourage. Take me, God, and make me your servant, now and forever more. Prepare me for heaven Lord, and give me victory over sin and temptation, help me to trust you day by day and never stop seeking your face. Amen.”
He repeated it almost word for word, but he added to his list of sins, and added “Thank-you God for my sister, and my daughter, who haven't given up on me, and for Vivian who knocked me out of thinking I had any control of my destiny.”
----------------------------------------
“Eliza, if I'm interrupting anything... you probably want to know this more. Your Dad prayed the prayer with me about five minutes ago. I'm just going to talk to the prison chaplain.”
“Praise God! Thank you, Maria. Dad's just repented of his sins, Bella! Oh that's wonderful news!”
“The other news, he says God must have taken the born again bit seriously. He apparently has the power once more. That scares him, actually. He says that all the time he didn't have it, he was wanting it back, but now he's got it, he's afraid he'll start misusing it again.”
“Well... Our surprising God's in charge. I wonder if that'll convince the other prisoners that he's really repented.”
“I'll fill you in on more details later on.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
Eliza called her father even as she disconnected. [Hello, Dad!]
[Eliza? You sound different, mind to mind.]
[Thank you, Dad.]
[What for?]
[For turning from your sins and for not calling me Liz.]
[Do you know why I called you Liz?]
[No.]
[Because when you were, I don't know, two. You said 'I'm a Lizard', and I asked you if I ought to call Liz the Lizard.]
[And I said OK?]
[No, you said 'You're silly, but I like you.']
[So every time you called me Liz, you were hoping that I'd remember I said I liked you?]
[I guess so. And the birthday card thing?]
[Yes?]
[It wasn't that I didn't care, but your mother wouldn't ever tell me your birthday.]
[And you couldn't tell from when you had your one night stand?]
[{Surprise}She told you that?]
[No, no she didn't. She told me that she'd stupidly thought that getting you drunk and sleeping with you would be a good career move.]
[Your mother was a very attractive woman. I heard her decide that she'd try that, and played along, but I wasn't drunk. I could have not taken advantage, of course, but she was attractive, and I was unscrupulous. Afterwards I told her that no, it wasn't a good career move because I actually had no control over her employment since she was a temporary staff worker. But I wouldn't have any objections to keeping her as my mistress.]
[And she pressed for marriage?]
[No, she accepted that arrangement, we met up every few days for oh, I guess four months, two months past the end of her employment.]
[She never told me that.]
[Then, she started asking wouldn't I like her to move in with me. I said no, she said then where was our relationship going? I said I liked it exactly how it was. It went down hill from there and she broke it off. She wrote about three months later and told me she was pregnant, she didn't suppose I'd want to do the honourable thing and marry her but would I at least allow her child to be called by my name. We met, I asked her who else she'd slept with, heard her truthful answer of no-one, and I signed the paperwork. I didn't see her for another two years.]
[You couldn't tell how pregnant she was?]
[No. I should have asked there and then, but didn't think at the time. She wore a big coat so I couldn't tell.]
[And she wouldn't tell you after?]
[No. No you really want to hear this?]
[It's my life history, mum would never talk about you.]
[OK. Well, every time we met I asked her if she'd found someone else. The answer was the same: she said she'd learned her lesson, one child was enough without a man about the house, and she didn't trust the species. So she had no plans of sleeping around, or dating, but if I ever did get an attack of decency she'd be waiting for me and she'd tell me your birthday after we'd married. And did I like her new-improved figure; she always seemed to arrange to meet me after she'd had some cosmetic surgery. I always said yes, very nice, I'd be very happy to take her to bed again, but no thanks on the marriage proposal. I wasn't willing to do that.]
[Why weren't you? Too many other lovers?]
[No. Two reasons. One was I was keeping my options open. A possibility I'd thought of was engineering the king's death and marrying the queen. It would have been an easy route to power if I thought I had much hope with her. The other was I didn't want the emotional involvement. I was too emotional about you two already. It would make me weaker, give people levers.]
[So, your grand plans, evil plots and the bad company you kept ruined your life as well as hers?]
[And yours.]
[Long term... it seems God has used it for good for me. So no, you've not ruined my life. You've hurt me a lot, but I'm not ruined. Oh, I've got to go. I'll call you again sometime, but I've got to go. God be with you, Dad.]
[Oh, you too, bye.] he thought, surprised, and a little embarrassed at the farewell. People said that? Why not? It's true. Wow.
[Yes, Dad, it's true.]
----------------------------------------
AUDITING HEADQUARTERS, 12:30PM. DEBRIEFING ROOM.
“Mrs Pew, here are my notes and audio recording, which he didn't ask about once.”
“Vivian, thank you. How did he react?”
“Maam, unless he is very very skilful at controlling his thoughts, then what you have there is as close to everything as he could think of.”
“You're serious?”
“He is scared of witches, he's very familiar with the idea of someone being able to enter government without anyone knowing their hidden agenda, why not the civil service. He knows how single-minded he was. I played the part of a power-hungry witch wanting to take over his 'contacts'. I had to pour scorn on a few parts of the constitution I actually hold dear, but I don't think I actually lied about anything. He was calling me mistress within about five minutes.”
“Mistress?”
“I told him he could call me that. I told him that setting demons on him to give him nightmares was an easy spell, and strongly hinted that it wasn't much harder to arrange electrical faults to fry him while he was in his cell. I'd told him right at the beginning that he ought to be groveling at my feet since he was a normal now, and I guess that the whole lot was a bit overwhelming. He didn't literally grovel, but he didn't try to lie either. You'll hear on the recording if you listen: I strayed into more personal areas too, and got him to admit some things I'm pretty sure he'd never have admitted unless he was in abject terror of upsetting me. In the end I felt sorry for him and told him that I was a Christian now, and no threat. I didn't want him to worry himself into a heart attack.”
“I guess I understand your motive, but if there's anything he did leave out, you're not going to get it from him now, are you?”
“I expect I could actually. I expect anyone could, now.”
“You think he's going to abandon all his evil schemes?”
“I think you might have a message from Maria, maam. I know I got one.”
“Really? What's she been telling you?”
“That he'd just been praying with her and his last prayer included thanksgiving for my visit. I believe other parts of his prayer included the line 'forgive my sins and be lord of my life', or something similar.”
Helen was a little sceptical that Roland Underwood was going to change, but said “You won't mind if I check to see what she's sent me?”
“Not at all.”
Helen looked at her messages. She found one from Maria that she'd skipped earlier. 'Report on visit to prisoner, update on health and new status.' She read it. “You must be joking!” she exclaimed.
“What?”
“She must be trying to see who reads messages with boring titles.”
“Why?”
“Does 'Report on visit to prisoner, update on health and new status.' sound like the sort of title you'd give to a message about Roland Underwood giving up his life of crime and becoming a Christian?”
“I guess she thought Hallelujah was too vague. What about his health?”
“Apparently he's got some kind of brain damage, and he claims it's a struggle for him to stay sane. She witnessed it when he became convinced that you had been deceiving him when you said you were not a threat.”
“Ouch.”
“And she reports that to solve that issue, she let him talk to Eliza, and at the cost of an epsilon he was reassured and soon after was asking her to help him become a Christian.”
“Eliza told him over the phone?” Vivian was shocked at that breach of security.
“I hope not.” Helen re-read the note. “No, that's here, sorry I missed that, she instructed Maria to tell him. And he now has his power back.”
“Well, he knew she had the power and he's never told anyone, so I don't imagine he'll be telling. Him having the power is very convenient for Eliza.”
“And probably a pain for his warders, I'm sure.”
“Hmm. Maybe. They'd better give him some gloves to wear.”
“Maria suggests that he eventually be downgraded a notch, and immediately be given an incoming-only line, in order that he not accidentally reveal anything.”
“Maria could have told him about me having the gift instead.”
“Not her decision, but yes, it was a risk. I wonder if someone should talk to Eliza about that, she mustn't put herself at risk.”
“Once she'd involved Eliza... I think you might underestimate how powerful a reassurance it was to her father that Eliza could know I am a Christian. It was only when I was asking about her did I hear any assertion of self-will. He was entirely passive answering about his relationship with his sister, but when I mentioned his daughter he started asking 'Why is she asking this?'”
“Yes, but why was reassuring him so important?”
“Because if he was concerned that I was really a witch, then he wouldn't have listened to me about sorting out his relationship with God.”
“Oh, you told him to do that too?”
“Yes, Maam. In the circumstances, I felt it was absolutely right to do so. I'd heard his confession of his sins, I'd heard him express regrets about them. I told him that if he told God that as well as me then it might help his relationship with his daughter and sister. Of course it also makes it easier for us to seek more information from him if my report is incomplete.” Vivian added.
“I don't share your faith, but in the circumstances I suppose it did serve the nation.”
“Maam, I'm convinced that any prisoner who abandons his life of crime serves the nation. I won't claim today was easy, psychologically or emotionally. Nor will I claim I can guarantee such a success again. But if you wish me to try, I will.”
“How would you feel about interviewing a man who claims to be a wizard?”
“Are you sure about the term? You've got three options: male witch, wizard or warlock?”
“Is there a difference?”
“Absolutely.”
“I'll have to check. What's the difference?”
“Some people say a warlock is the same thing as a male witch. But the word comes from oath-breaker, in other words a seriously evil guy. The equivalent of what I was pretending to be today; unreformed Underwood with demons doing his bidding. So, if he calls himself that and he's genuine then he's really bad news. For me to meet even a male witch, I don't know. I'd be willing, but pretty nervous. You should know it might put my life at risk, since I'd be confronting the evil forces I've abandoned. That's my uninformed guess, I'd need to ask advice. A genuine warlock? I'd certainly have been terrified before I was a Christian.”
“And a wizard?”
“Has probably read too many books, or watched too many fantasy films. He might have the power of course, and maybe he plays with incantations, but I'd expect he's not as deeply into the occult as I was.”
“OK, I'll let you know what we know.”
“I'll probably have to check up myself, won't I?”
“We can't ask that of you.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Not off the top of my head.”
“When you know, tell me. Even just a first name.”
“Thats... not reasonable, Vivian. How is a first name sufficient to identify anyone?”
“Why not? You know what unique individual you're referring to, you give me a name which is an identifier for him in your mind. Let's say for sake of argument it's Albert. I know you're not talking about prince Albert, so I'm looking for the whereabouts of the Albert that you mentioned to me who's said such and such a crazy thing on a form or to whoever you got it from. If we presuppose that God has access to all the information in everyone's mind, it's just joining dots. But we don't even need to assume that. All we need to presuppose is that when you tell me someone's name, then that chain of identification is all in your mind, and the angel sitting on your shoulder can whisper it to the angel sitting on mine.”
Helen looked at her shoulder, somewhat worriedly. “I've got an angel sitting on my shoulder?”
“Not as far as I know, but it's a relatively common piece of folk-imagery. It was just meant to be an illustration that it doesn't take omniscience to make that connection. I don't know how my gift works. I don't know if I've got angels working as supernatural switchboard operators or if I'm tapping directly into God's knowledge. I expect the truth is too marvelous for us to know.”
“You know, Vivian, talking to you does bad things to my comfortable agnosticism.”
“Good. Agnosticism either is either like shutting your eyes, blocking your ears and telling God nyaah nyaah, I can't see or hear what you're like so I won't trust you, or like swimming alongside a life-raft thinking this water isn't so cold, the sharks aren't interested in me at the moment, but if I get in the life-raft then I might miss the ride on a helicopter that I can imagine coming.”
“Thank you for feeling free to share your... candid opinion, Vivian.”
“Maam, I'm sorry if you found it offensive. What I wanted to say is that the God who gave me my gift is not hiding. We wouldn't be able to find out what he's like if he was, I agree, he's too other. But he isn't hiding. He wants to be known. I'm very familiar with the fact there are spiritual forces in this world, but I believed God was like an old man, worn out, weak, powerless, not interested in anything and asleep most of the time. But I met a sixteen year old who laughed at me. She'd seen enough of God's power at work to spot that as nothing but empty propaganda. Then someone on the other side of the planet told the so-called the 'spirit guide' who I'd welcomed as a stupid power-hungry teenager to shut up and leave me in peace in the name of Jesus. It didn't even put up a fight. Do you know what that told me?”
“Urm, your spirit-guide wasn't that committed to you?”
“No, it told me that that demon knew God was still active and very much in charge. And thinking about that, I wonder: why am I'm scared to confront any witches? That's a bit silly, isn't it?”
“Urm, just because you're with Auditing, it doesn't mean you're knife-proof, Vivian.”
“OK, but if the person I'm facing has no gun, and I know I can disarm him if he pulls a knife, then I don't need to be scared, do I? Just alert.”
“I don't want you putting yourself in danger, Vivian.”
“Thank you for your concern, Maam.”
“You know what I'm going to do now, Vivian?”
“No, Maam.”
“I'm going to send you to get some lunch, and then ask you to come back and enter all these lovely names into Underwood's files, link them to the individual's files and give me recommendations with your reasoning about who needs to come in for a little chat, who gets a message saying 'Underwood said he had such and such a claim over you, we are aware but expect no further action unless we hear more', and so on.”
“Maam, isn't that last bit something a senior analyst ought to be doing?”
“No, Vivian, recommendations are junior analyst level. We did talk about getting you wider experience, I believe, before you go and collaborate with our friends abroad.”
“So this is a one-off?”
“Oh, I don't know. It might be useful for you to follow some aspects of the investigation all the way to the conclusion, but it might also be useful to gain some more experience with case by case analysis.” She looked up at the camera “Any thoughts up there?”
Ashley's voice came from a speaker “Yes, if there are as many names on that list as I think there are, then that's plenty of experience. You're just going to throw her in the deep end all unprepared?”
“Best way to see how her native good sense agrees with what our normal procedures are, don't you think? And if she's thinking along the right lines, then why bog her down with memorising case studies?”
“I think give her one borderline case study, Helen so this isn't a totally futile exercise which might be destructive to her self confidence.” Dick suggested.
“Oh all right. Vivian, after lunch — and not before — go to analysis section and ask them for case study 372.”
“Helen, that's cruel.” Ashley objected.
“It's as real as some of the cases she's got here, I expect.”
“Vivian,” Dick's voice came from the speaker “Just so you know, study 372 is a notoriously hard nut to crack. Expect comments from whoever gives it to you. For the record, the three of us gave different responses on out first look at it.”
“And then changed our minds.” Ashley added.
“But there is a right answer. So, if you think that it's easy, then you're off track, and Ashley's right, it might be destructive to your self confidence to work on the real cases and have lots of decisions overruled.” Helen said, “But if you still can't make up your mind after looking at it for an hour, then you ought to be able to do OK.”
----------------------------------------
3.00PM
Vivian looked at the ancient analogue wall clock; the little hand was pointing at the three, and the longer one was pointing up. It was fascinating to think that all clocks used to be like that, slowly moving parts of themselves to show the time. They weren't very common, but there'd been one in the case file, she'd seen. Anyway, she'd had her hour. The case in the case file was deceptively simple. Someone had come forward with apparently clear-cut video evidence of a teacher accepting a bribe from a parent. Quite a substantial bribe, in fact. But the evidence was from twenty years before the video had been presented, and there was no evidence that the bribe had had any effect on the grades that either of the children of the parent received. And nor had there been any impact on the teacher's lifestyle, or on their bank balance. In fact, if it hadn't been for the video, there was no evidence that they'd accepted the bribe. Except that the child of the person offering the bribe had been taken off the disciplinary measures early enough to go on a school trip, when the original penalty would have prevented them. But the amount of the bribe didn't make sense, either, not for a school trip. It was twenty times the cost of the trip. And the evidence showed that the amount of the bribe had left the parent's account. But.... two months later the exact same amount had been paid back in. Was there no case to answer? Had the bribe been accepted and then refused? Her eye drifted to the clock, she'd had her time and it was time to admit defeat. But Vivian wanted to watch the video again. Was there some clue? She mentally reviewed it. She had always been fairly good with her memory, but found that since receiving the gift she was able to play back things in her mind she'd seen far better than she had before. She'd always had a good memory for details, but it was better now. Was it part of the gift? Maybe: she certainly would need to use that faculty when she looked at someone's thoughts and reviewed them. There was that analogue clock on the wall, and she realised that there was something funny about it. She played the tape, just concentrating on its hands. There and again, the hands jumped. She looked frame by frame. Yes, the minute hand had been blurred a little before and after the cut. Just enough, so that the hand wouldn't seem to jump at normal playback speed, but sped up, it was fairly obvious — the steady movement had two lurches in it. So, the video had been tampered with. It was unreliable evidence. Had money had changed hands? Yes. Had the teacher hadn't benefited from it? No. Had the money had been returned? Yes. She checked the school records in the case files, what had the child been disciplined for? Destruction of property on a school trip. Of course. The parent had effectively paid bail for the child. Now, who'd supplied the video? The child. Why? Revenge? What for? Hold on... She had a hypothesis only, and needed to check more. Where had that money gone to? Had the money actually been returned? Was she jumping to conclusions?
----------------------------------------
“How are you doing?” Ms Pew asked.
“I feel I'm close, but don't have all the evidence.”
“And?”
“Cash sum left the parent's account, it did not reach teachers account. I don't know where it went. The same amount returned two months later, but I don't know where from. The video's been tampered with, sections taken out.
The kid went on a trip he shouldn't have, after causing serious damage on a previous school trip. The amount could have been some kind of bond for the child's good behaviour; and at the moment I'm guessing that's what happened. The child submitted the video; I want to check the child's account and the school's accounts to establish if there's some motivation for the submission. If I find it went into the school account and out again, and no irregularities in the child's account then I'm at a loss to explain why, unless the kid just hates the teacher. If it went to the parent's account from the kid's, then my guess would be a repeat offence, and the kid feels really sore about its loss, and blames the teacher for letting him post the bond. I'd check the school's punishment book for after the trip, but I'm not sure I'd find anything there if the loss of the bond sufficed as punishment enough. So, in either case, I think I'd pull the kid in for questioning.”
“Very well done, Vivian. Now, can you put it aside and work on the real case?”
“I suppose so. I'd love to know what the real answer is.”
“By working it out, or me telling you?”
“Hmm. Good question. If I'm badly wrong, I'd like to find out myself.”
“You're not badly wrong at all. It came from the kid's account. An inheritance, actually. It was a camping trip, he took a liquifuel burner with him, and smuggled some kind of alcohol in the spare tank. He and some friends got drunk, and he decided to light up the stove inside the tent, right next to the fabric. The tent and various other stuff was destroyed, and several of them, including him, got severe burns.
“The bond covered the excess on the school's insurance which got the other kids full medical care, but the insurer said that the boy had clearly set out to cause trouble and it was so entirely predictable what would happen that they counted his wounds as self-inflicted, and so he only got emergency care. Parental insurer took the same line, and the parents didn't think they stood much chance of a judge disagreeing with the insurance companies. He got left with severe scars on his face and a big chip on his shoulder. He got sent to prison for falsification of evidence. Now, most people don't ever see the edits on the video. Then what would you have done?”
“Without that? Oh wow. I guess I'd have tried to find where the money went to. I presume it went into the school account?”
“Actually into an escrow account, held by a local lawyer.”
“Then on the evidence here, I'd have had to call in the teacher but I think I'd have said I didn't think he'd been bribed but I needed help in working out what I was seeing in this video. No, hold on, other school records. I could have looked there too. And I could have looked at where the money came back from, too.”
“At which point it would have looked like a coincidence, wouldn't it?”
“Maybe. I don't know.”
“Without seeing the edits, it really comes down to your gut instincts about who was in the wrong, doesn't it?”
“And the way they're acting on the video. It doesn't look furtive at all, I mean, there's nothing about either of them to indicate they're doing something illicit at all. Most people just can't act that well.”
“So, you'd still be convinced the teacher was innocent, you think?”
“Yes, I think so. I found no indication at all of him having received a bribe.”
“What about his summer holiday that year?”
“Oh, I spotted that, but it was their tenth wedding anniversary. It was paid for by his wife's parents.”
“OK, Vivian, you'll do. That piece of analysis gets you a promotion, junior analyst Trevithick.”
“But I'm still in training!”
“No, Vivian, you're not. If you've noticed, we sent you out to interview Roland Underwood alone. Trainees don't go interviewing psychopaths alone.”
“But I've got so much more to learn!”
“Don't we all? You've met the stringent demands of every test we've thrown at you, Vivian. Two promotions in twenty four hours. Don't worry, you can stay a junior analyst for a decade or two while you gain experience, but you've got the skills necessary.”
“So, that's why they said 'You're too young for them to do that to you' and 'Did you upset them or impress them?' and the like in analysis?”
“That's right. And the answer is you keep on impressing us. Well done.”
“I don't feel I deserve this.”
“For what it's worth, nor did I when they did it to me.”