6. The Decline and Fall
The poorly tended campus was strewn with garbage, and decorated with graffiti. The ragged remnants of leaflets were visible on many surfaces. Max parked on the sidewalk near a dry fountain, and started to walk. Someone grabbed her from behind. She almost smashed his windpipe, but realized at the last second it was Logan, ambulatory in the exoskeleton he had inherited from Phil, the vigilante. Phil had swiped it from the Department of Defense. Her heart did an ugly flip-flop, then she saw that he was wearing gloves.
"Logan, you scared me!" she said. "I nearly killed you." She meant that literally.
"Thank you for restraining yourself," he said gravely. "C'mere, let's get out of sight."
He led her behind a burnt out structure that had once served as a bus shelter.
"What's the sitch?" she asked.
"I don't know yet," he said. "There are police everywhere. I think you're going to have to hit the wind."
"I'm getting a bad feeling about this," said Max. She looked around the corner of the shelter. "Is that where we were headed?" She pointed to a squat grey building that had for the most part been roped off with crime-scene tape.
"Yeah," said Logan, clearly disgusted. "I'm pretty sure they were ahead of us again, Max. I don't think it's going to be pretty." There were knots of people, mostly young women, some being interviewed by detectives. Many were sobbing openly.
"Jesus," said Max. She was angry. There was nothing to do but be angry. Someone was probably dead, and they both knew it was the student they were supposed to be meeting.
"Look," she said, "I'll hop in there and hunt around a bit. Maybe they haven't had time to find all her research."
"No," said Logan. "It's too dangerous. I'm putting my foot down."
Max lifted an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?" she said.
"Oh, Max. White could still be in there. I can pass as a professor, or even a reporter. But everyone knows your face, now. Do the right thing, and leave the poking around to me."
She sighed, catching herself from leaning in to kiss him. She was shocked at how easily she forgot. "Okay," she agreed, more to remove herself from Logan's immediate vicinity than out of deference to any danger presented by White.
"We can hook up later, at my place," said Logan.
"Okay," said Max, again. She headed off, then stopped. "Oh! I have to help Alec with a thing tonight."
"What thing?" said Logan, turning back to her.
"Nothing," she said. "Nothing important." She was being evasive, and he looked hurt.
"Fine," he said tersely.
"Look, at the very least I'll talk to you later," she said. "Okay?"
"Fine," he repeated.
Logan joined the crowd of students. A chubby redhead was sitting on the edge of an empty concrete planter. I was just talking to her!" the girl sobbed, burying her face in her hands. Logan sat beside her.
"You mean Eva?" he asked. "Eva Vadas?"
"Yes," the redhead moaned. "Oh, this is so terrible. I can't believe anyone would do such a thing."
"What happened?" he asked.
"What are you," said a tall, skinny boy, "some kind of ghoul?"
"I'm sorry," said Logan. "I knew Eva, too." It was a lie, but not much of one. He would have known her, if he'd had the chance. She had sounded bright and cheerful on the phone. As they'd talked, he had imagined what she looked like, like any guy would.
"I'm sorry, man," said the kid. "But we're really shook up here. Eva was our T.A."
"Just tell me," said Logan, looking up at the boy.
"She's dead," said the kid, with heartbreaking sadness. "Some sicko raped her, and beat her to death." He shivered, looking very young. The redheaded girl was clearly fixing to cry some more. Logan had a hankie in his pocket, for cleaning his glasses. He fished it out and gave it to her. "I'm sorry," he said, sick at heart. "You have no idea how sorry I am."
Logan knew he had to move fast. He just didn't know which direction to go. The cops would have Eva's office pretty well sewn up by now. If White was on site, it would be in his official capacity and he would have access to everything.
I'm so stupid, thought Logan. I got her killed. When she made plans to share information with someone who said he knew Eyes Only, the notorious dissident, they had to act.
Logan's head swam with a circuit-frying surge of anger. White and his insane snake people cavalierly eliminated anyone they perceived as a threat to their mysterious agenda. Whoever they were, whatever they were, they had to be stopped. White made a lot of noise about the intrinsic reprehensibility of transgenics, but it was he who was the greater insult to the natural order.
Max had described in great detail the bizarre, pseudo religious ritual she'd witnessed. What manner of man would knowingly allow his own son to be exposed to a deadly toxin, for the sake of some absurd test? What great evil was abroad in the world?
Logan wasn't sure he was strong enough to stand between society and White's vast and deadly cult. He was just an ordinary man. But he recognized that he had no choice. He was one of those uncommon individuals who have in their nature a willingness to get involved. He was an activist, the only free voice left in Seattle. He had to take responsibility.
First things first. If Eva was really as smart as she seemed, she had to have a backup stash, somewhere safe, with copies of all her important research. But where? He crossed his arms, allowing himself to sink into deep concentration. He knew where he would hide papers. The library. Where better? It was always full of people and there were plenty of hidey-holes. Naw, he thought, too easy. Or was it? It didn't hurt to check.
Logan stood in a cavernous room. Tables were full, heads bent over texts and writing pads. There was the soft murmur of pages being turned. He found it comforting. Terrorists had knocked out the American economy with an electromagnetic pulse, and the frightened American people had traded in their freedom for reactionary militarism, but kids were still cramming for their exams.
Where would Eva have hidden a copy of her notes, he wondered? Perhaps under "C," for cults, he thought with a tight smile. Or maybe filed with her other research. Wouldn't that be too obvious? What about under the name of her adviser?
No, he thought, I wouldn't. Too close a link, too easy to figure out.
For a moment, he drifted. His mind came down hard on something as sharp and unpleasant as a sliver of glass in an ice cream cone, and clearly not germane to the task at hand.
Max was with Alec.
He was irritated. Jealous even. Max was happy to talk at length about what an ass Alec was, but she had to rush off to see him. After the destruction of Manticore, and much to Logan's dismay, Alec had reappeared, and insinuated himself into Max's life. He'd taken a job at Jam Pony, and become friendly with her pals. In the light of recent history, Logan found Alec's behavior highly suspect.
There was nothing preventing Alec from touching her, either accidentally, or on purpose. Alec wouldn't drop dead if he brushed up against her, or wiped her tears. He could kiss her at the nape of her neck, sweeping aside her hair to expose the bar code she had to conceal.
Logan felt the ugly taste of acid, and tried to pull himself together. He trusted Max. She could never be interested in a callow, self-serving prick like Alec. Forget that Alec could touch her. He wouldn't. She would never let him.
But what were they doing tonight? Why wouldn't she say? He couldn't help but be suspicious.
Then he had it, the answer to the problem that had brought him here in the first place. Thrusting his other worries aside, he walked through the stacks. He looked for the section he wanted. He walked down the isle, breathing through his mouth. Hurry, he thought. White could bust in here any minute. He ran his finger down the row of dusty hardcover books. He pulled out a slim folder. He turned it around. This it what it said on the cover. It said: "Fe'nos tol."