Summary: Free markets. Free will. You are what you choose.

----

They arrived back at Middle-HQ with the sound of slamming doors. Wendy was the first one into the control room, bristling like an enraged cat. "Ida, maybe you can get him to listen," she aimed at the android. "We can't give up. We've got to find an angle where we can hit this Neville guy back."

The Middleman was right behind her, moving with the same stiff over-controlled anger. "I'm listening. But with all due respect to the process of brainstorming, none of the suggestions you proposed in the car have tactical viability."

"You can't count the ones where you didn't let me finish the damn sentence."

"Those were so self-evident..."

Ida rolled her eyes. "Trouble in paradise. I don't know whether to celebrate or hit my self-destruct. Looks like this is going to be even louder than the other thing."

They were at one, for a second, with coldly furious looks at Ida. The next instant they turned them on each other. The Middleman dropped into his lecturing tone. "As it stands, Fatboy can balance five thousand hostages against the fate of the world. That horn of the dilemma that has to be addressed first or no counter-maneuver is possible."

"Already had Apprentice 101, thanks," Wendy retorted. "And that's where you go wrong. We've only got his word for five thousand hostages. Neville is smart -- not comic-book smart, real-life smart. If he comes in here doing the Evil Overlord speech, it's because he wants to distract us from something else."

"You can't know that."

"Manservant Neville isn't off in a secret lair with mutant sharks and henchmen in orange jumpsuits," Wendy said. "When you get down to it, he's in retail. What would happen to Fatboy if five thousand of their customers suddenly dropped dead?"

"Stock value would go up?" suggested Ida.

"Five thousand people would be dead," The Middleman said doggedly.

"That's how you see it, and that's how I see it." Wendy's voice gentled a little. "Because we're human beings. Peter Lorre's understudy back there is slime. I'm not saying he cares a damn about people. I'm saying five thousand dead people would be bad for him. So bad that it's a bluff. The five-thousand-dead plan isn't something he wants to carry out. It's a mind game to keep you still until he figures out the control-without-killing plan that might actually stand a chance."

The Middleman shifted to a less angry posture. "Go on."

Wendy spoke with more confidence, seeing that. "If you ask me, he's barely gotten away with three or four people dying with their U-Masters on. Some reporter or blogger is bound to notice the common thread any minute." She pointed at him. "You've told me since day one that normal people would panic if they knew about comic-book evil. How much would they panic if five thousand people died wearing U-Masters? Humans en masse may be dumb, but squirrels could figure that one out. Even if it was a lot less; twenty people, or fifty. Inside of ten seconds everybody hooked to the internet, or watching CNN -- hell, anyone in sound of a radio station would rip off their U-Masters."

He nodded thoughtfully; Wendy kept going. "And people putting them on voluntarily is the only power he's got. Not just super-villain power, regular power. Power, prestige, money... never mind worrying about his stock prices. He'd go from Bono Saint Steve Jobs to the most hated man alive in a heartbeat. The first thousand people in rampaging-mob distance of his headquarters would rip him apart."

His eyes were distant. Most people, beyond a certain point, would see strangers' deaths as only numbers. She knew the Middleman could feel each one as a separate human being. "You could be right," he said slowly. "But that many deaths ..."

"I don't think he can get as far as that many deaths." Wendy hoped her guess was right. "Neville is trying to have it both ways, Comic Book Evil and a multimillion-dollar corporation. And you know what, Boss? Those two things don't go."

"The kid may be on to something," Ida said in wonder. "Sure, maybe we'd lose a few meat-bags along the way. But it's not like this planet is running short."

He shook his head. "No plan that sacrifices innocent lives is acceptable. Not thousands, not one. You know that, Dubbie. They're in our care."

She risked touching his hand. "I don't want people to die either. I don't think they have to die. Damn sure, not five thousand of them. I'm saying, Neville wants us to be paralyzed by the hard choice. He laid it out as comic book evil because if you fight by comic book rules, he wins. So don't. Find rules we can win by."

The change in his expression wasn't even a ghost of a smile, but some of the tension eased. "I said you think like a Middleman, didn't I. What do you have in mind?"

"Let's get that whole 'normal people can't handle the truth' thing working for us for once. We don't lay a finger on Neville or on Fatboy. We hit them in the reputation. He's in the computer nets all over the world; well, so are we, with HEYDAR. We use that. Rumors all over the Internet. E-mails and fake press releases and phone calls -- can we fake phone calls, Ida? -- that all the TV networks think are coming from reliable sources. He's expecting us to come punch him in the face like Adam West or somebody; he won't expect that."

The Middleman shook his head; Wendy detected a bit of regret. "It's clever. But we can't betray the existence of the Middle organization, not even in circumstances this grave."

"It doesn't have to come from us," Wendy said. "Make it look like a disgruntled Fatboy employee, something like that. But in the meantime everybody on Earth will be scared as shit of their own U-Masters. Maybe they don't believe crazy rumors all the way, but they take the thing off just to be on the safe side. Once that's done, Neville is finished."

The regret faded. "He might be finished. Or he might go ahead and use the murderous version of the software, do as much damage as he could to the people still wearing U-Masters. Take his power away -- on the corporate side, where he feels the most secure -- and he might decide to do as much harm as he can on his way down. It's too risky."

"He'd be stupid to try it," Wendy said.

"It's not about intelligence. It's about how much he'll want revenge, if his world starts collapsing. If he's in control of his computers when that happens, he could take even more lives than the five thousand he threatened."

Wendy looked down. "I really thought I had something." Something that would wipe away the shadows under his eyes, straighten his shoulders again. Show that she shared his commitment to the job on the deepest level, so they could move closer together again. "Maybe there's a way, some kind of modified plan -- we can't just sit here." Another idea struck her. "Boss, if we let him work the bugs out of his mind control, the first command he'll send is that everybody loves their U-Master forever. We won't have any chance of getting them away from people, then."

His weight shifted. The Middleman didn't look good, Wendy thought frantically, but he found the energy to pat her arm gently. His voice, too, was more like himself than he'd been in hours. "Your tactical instincts are sound, Dubbie. Didn't I say you'd be exceptional at our job?"

"Ah, thanks."

"Just as you said, the dilemma he set for us -- five thousand people dead or six and a half billion in mental thrall -- is the problem he's facing himself. He can't achieve both. And you're right to point out the difference in magnitude between those evils."

He was out of his frozen state, back on the job; that had to be a good thing. Wendy tried to work out why his renewed animation scared hell out of her. "I only meant, don't get locked into Neville's plan. I don't mean let anybody die."

"That would be intolerable," he promised. "You're too good a Middleman to mean that, and I'm proud of you." He offered a hug, not sexual but fond. Wendy locked onto him, tears stinging her eyes.

"My God, I hate human hormones." Ida rolled her eyes and left the room. Neither of them looked up.

Wendy leaned her face against the shoulder of his jacket. "I shouldn't have freaked out on you. You were a dumb kid back then."

A ghost of his stillness came back. "I was old enough to be responsible for what I did."

"I don't mean that. I mean that I was a dumb kid today. Not a good partner, either kind. I know who you are now, you're the Middleman. You're going to come up with a plan, and I'm going to be right in there with you."

He buried his fingers in her hair, leaned a cheek against the top of her head. "Wendy." Then in a more businesslike tone, "I have some ideas; nothing that's ready to discuss yet. What I am sure of is that we can solve this, thanks to you. If Neville's figured out my thinking, he hasn't the least clue about yours. He's going to regret that."

Wendy squeezed him tighter. "Boss, you scared me. Going away like that."

"I know. I'm sorry. I love you, Wendy Watson. Every bit of you. If you think that feeling is worth returning, I'm going to stop arguing with my good fortune."

She laughed; it hurt a little, but she didn't care. "About damn time."

Wendy leaned back a bit for a better look. His tawny eyes were shining with that guileless integrity again. "We have some time," he said a little shyly. "I'd like to hold you for a while."

Wendy grinned. "I'd like to let you."

------

An oddly exact use of words, even from him. Wendy found herself still in her clothes, later , in the bachelor room and single bed he'd used before they were lovers. The Middleman lay spooned against her back, in most of his own uniform.

The limited contact that frustrated Wendy had clearly been exactly what he needed. The warm, breathing wall of him was relaxed beyond any possible pretense. He slept like a man with all his burdens laid down. Wendy pressed back against him, soaking in body heat, and told herself that sexual tension was nothing to worry about. Her nerves jangled all the same. She wanted to cling to him for protection; she wasn't sure whose.

Not just her nerves. A vague, intermittent rattling from the floor. Wendy looked over the edge of the bed, saw her personal cell vibrating to itself in the pile of discarded boots and gunbelts. She slipped out of bed and took it to the hall.

Her cell didn't recognize the number any more, since she'd taken it out of autodial, but Wendy did. She closed the bedroom door all the way. "Tyler," she said coolly.

"Listen, I'm in serious trouble." Her former boyfriend did sound shaken, worse than she'd ever heard him. "And yeah, you were right, I was wrong. Stomp all over me if you want. Wendy, what's a Middleman?"

Her lips parted in a snarl. "Who wants to know? You, or Manservant Neville? Is there even a difference any more?"

"Wendy, I'm scared. I need your help."

She gave him a little mercy, grudging it. "A Middleman is someone who fights evil so you don't have to. Sort of an adult guardian responsible for this crazy planet. And you could have been one instead of me, Tyler, if you'd turned up for that job interview. All that ability -- I always said you were smart -- and what are you now?"

A barked laugh that sounded inches from hysteria. "I don't know what I am. Stuff is coming out of me that I don't understand. Wendy, I was spying on your sublet."

"I know."

"I bought an entire building, with Neville's money, so I could spy on your sublet. How crazy is that? You know, I hope you know, I'm not that kind of person."

"I wouldn't have thought so."

"He must know. Neville. I'm not authorized to spend anything like that amount. But he hasn't mentioned it. Wendy, his memories are in my head. He can put stuff in my head. I think you're right, I think it was the U-Master."

Tyler didn't sound like an enemy, or not a willing one. Wendy gave a little. "You're right, it is. The guy at the school -- I don't know if the U-Master set him up to kill other people, but it set him up to kill himself. A guy named Dave threw himself off a building right in front of me, happy as a clam, because he thought he could fly. A woman tried to gas herself with her own car, we barely stopped her."

"He hired me to get at you, Wendy," Tyler said. A tone of genuine hurt. "And through you, at that guy."

"I know. It's not fair, but it's true." Wendy wasn't listening to her own tone of voice. She would have recognized the crisp, military-style briefing. "Tyler, he hasn't even started yet. He's just testing the mind control features. Working out how to jerk people around without killing them on the first command. Every new U-Master can do it. Millions. He said he wants to conquer the world without anybody noticing. The Middleman's the only one who can stop him, but if he even tries to more people will die. He's working on a plan...."

A dozen clues came together in her mind, not suspicion but certainty. "...that's sheer elegance in its simplicity." Wendy swallowed. Made herself breathe evenly, as if she'd just been wounded.

Tyler, unable to see her, missed the nuances. "Hello?"

"One dead civilian or five thousand, it's the same in his head. He's trying to convince himself it's the minimum harm, six billion lives against five thousand. Even if it is, he won't live if he has to do that. Not five minutes."

He took in her tone, if not all her words. "You really do love that guy."

Wendy's voice gentled for a few seconds. "I always will. If that's enough to make you hate him, then keep on doing what you're doing. You couldn't possibly hurt us worse." She squared her shoulders." When he goes in to fight Neville, I'll be with him. If he doesn't finish the mission, maybe I can. I don't know if we can save all the U-Master users. I don't expect we can save ourselves. But we can save the world from Neville, and we will." Her tone went flat. "Don't be in the way, Tyler. We'll be in a hurry."

Tyler was silent for several seconds. Then, "I can get you into the building. He lives here, you know. There's a penthouse on top of the main offices. His office up here controls the whole mainframe. Would that help?"

"Neville will kill you if he finds out."

"I probably deserve it. Wendy, I love you. I can't let anything happen to you."

Wendy didn't like herself much, using that affection. But she didn't have to like herself to do her job. "Then help us stop Neville. This is war, until he's dead or we are. Whose side are you on?"

"I'm on your side. Always. Private elevator on the east side of the building. No other apartments, just offices; the whole place is pretty deserted after nine or so."

"Nine," Wendy agreed. "We'll be there. Just get us inside."

----

Tyler hadn't quite dared leave Neville's penthouse to make his phone call. The elevator had a security camera, and he hoped that avoiding overt opposition to Neville would make him a little safer. But he'd gone to the back corner of the penthouse kitchen, spoken in a near-whisper. He walked out of the kitchen to the main living room, moving as quietly as he could.

"What a passionate young woman," Neville said out of the shadows. "No wonder you dote on her so."

Tyler jumped. Neville showed him empty hands, palms out. "Relax. I'm not in your mind now, not at all. I want to talk to you man to man about all this."

"Instead of man to mind control robot zombie?" Tyler knew he was talking like a comic book hero; it was the only vocabulary he had for this kind of situation. And even imitation bravado gave him a little confidence. "I think we've kind of gone past 'join me, it is your destiny.'"

"I understand your resentment. I presumed on your good will." Neville sounded genuinely sorry. "But you signed up to change the world. Well, I'm changing it for the better. Let me perfect my control system and we can have a golden age, without war or conflict."

"Because everyone will do what you tell them," Tyler shot back.

Neville shrugged. "Is that so terrible? Everyone does what they're told, one way or another. Their government, their favorite celebrity, their upbringing, their religion. Their personal appetites. Free will is an illusion, even though human beings can't help believing in it. I don't intend to be heavy-handed. I'm only going to abolish some of the more obvious stupidities."

"And you get to decide what's stupid, for the entire world."

Neville smiled. "I'll do it well, too. If I put guidelines in a book and told people it was God's idea, they'd be singing my praises. Maybe even starting a holy war -- these things do so often get out of hand -- to kill anyone who was against universal peace. Isn't it more sensible, more orderly, to do things a more modern way?"

He wasn't joking. That more than the scheme itself made Tyler step back. "You put your memories in my head. You didn't ask, you just did it."

Neville's smile widened. He clearly felt the persuasion was going very well. "I did, yes. That knowledge, that experience, cost me two-thirds of my life to amass. I'm handing it to you as a free gift. Imagine what you can do, building on that foundation. Who else could I trust at my right hand? You're the one who's going to get the full benefit of my process, not me; no doubt you'll outlive me by decades. And that's only a start. Think about Miss Watson herself. The young lady nearly still loves you. Just a nudge, a light adjustment, and you can have her back forever."

"Touch her and I'll kill you," Tyler shot out.

Neville looked benign, understanding. "Tyler, I'm going far out of my way to make this easy on you. I want your willing cooperation, truly I do. But if you insist, we can go back to the hard way." A U-Master, Tyler's, was at his elbow. He reached for the controls.

Tyler grabbed his earpiece as if it hurt him. "Stop messing with my head." Under the fear, his mind had a coolness he hadn't known was part of him. Keep backing up. The desk. Use some of that stuff as weapons.

Neville laughed out loud. "Oh, now you're shamming. But it's a worthy effort, for a beginner." He held up a tool, the delicate pliers Tyler had found earlier. "Cutting the wires in your headset showed real creativity. But electronics aren't your specialty. Didn't you realize the hardware has internal diagnostics? I knew the moment your U-Master stopped working."

Tyler threw the thing off entirely; Neville didn't seem upset. "You're an integral member of my team," he said cheerfully. "Far too valuable to risk losing. So the basic circuits are backed up in your new watch. Short range, rudimentary, but good enough."

Tyler fumbled at the watch band. His hands wouldn't cooperate. Neville stepped toward him, held out a new headset. "Let's not make this difficult." Tyler's legs were more willing to obey him. He scrambled, if clumsily, toward the fire stairs. Neville blocked his path. "Do it."

The headache was like a bomb going off. Tyler wondered if he was about to die of a stroke anyway. That brief division of concentration was his downfall. He felt his own fingers taking the thing, seating it in his left ear. He fought hard. The tiny part of himself that was still free found a chink in its prison walls, controlled his voice a little longer. "Wendy will stop you. She promised."

Neville shrugged his shoulders. "She's welcome to try."

---

Wendy was reappraising her world as she stepped back into the bedroom. It felt like testing a cracked bone to see if she could walk on it. All I've seen, all we've done, and still I can forget what you are. Pure soldier. Because she'd comforted the Middleman on the personal side -- and it had been a comfort, no mistaking that -- she'd assumed that carried over to their professional crisis. But there was more than one kind of fearlessness. It could be ordinary confidence that they had a good chance of winning. Or absence of fear born from absence of hope -- all the decisions made, nothing left to do but watch them play out and then pay the price.

He was dressing, with meticulous attention to detail even for him. If Middlemen had white-glove inspections he'd have passed easily. The cold heavy lump was back in the pit of Wendy's stomach. She spoke flatly enough to pass for normal. "That was Tyler. He can get us inside Fatboy, tonight. It could be a trap, but I don't think we can afford to be picky." She stopped, waited until he returned her direct look. "We're running out of time, aren't we?"

The Middleman nodded. "Ida checked on the woman we saved from her car. She's shown no physical ill effects from being controlled. Neville must be very close to his solution. Before he might have waited three weeks for his official software release; your idea about turning his customers against him really was a good one. Now, with us closing in on him..."

"He'll hit the scary red 'World Conquest' button the second he thinks the odds are in his favor," Wendy said. "Good thing you have that super-secret plan to save the world, then. The one that -- let me just take a wild guess -- involves me staying here while you deal with Neville alone."

He was no good at lying, worse at hiding it; his stunned expression confirmed all Wendy's fears. "You don't have a secret plan," she said. "Just the one in plain sight you hope to God I don't see. Well, I've seen it. You're trying to save me again -- not from dying, from sharing the guilt. It's way too late for that."

With lying off the table, he was momentarily out of words. Wendy came in closer. "It's not a plan, it's a worst-case scenario. You'll try to destroy Fatboy's computers, erase the mind-control program so it can't ever kill anyone again. You'll try to get Neville to give you the code so you can shut it off. If he doesn't, you're going to hope like hell that he was bluffing. But if worst comes to worst, if it's five thousand dead or the whole world enslaved -- you'll still kill him."

"Does that sound like me?" the Middleman couldn't get the ring of truth into it, but he tried.

"You're very exact with words. Trading off that many lives ... you didn't say it was impossible, or unthinkable. You said intolerable. If you have to kill Neville, if they die along with him, I know who's number five thousand one. You can do what you can't tolerate -- as long as you don't have to live with it. You've given this job your life, your identity. You've always expected to give it your death. If you have to lay down your honor too.... you aren't the kind of man who keeps anything back."

He looked shamed, worse than this afternoon. Wendy clutched his ice-cold hands in hers. "You thought I'd fight you on it. But maybe I've finally grown the hell up enough to be a real Middleman. I'm not saying no. I'm saying that if you have to walk into Hell -- again -- I'm going with you."

He watched her, taking it all in. Wendy had done all she could with words; she willed for the double handclasp to say the rest.

The pain lines showed in his face again. Wendy was dragging him back into the world where he had choices, and the strain showed. "No. It means more than I can say that you're willing to go, but no. It would be bad enough trying to prevent that level of atrocity, and failing. Letting it happen ... I want you free of that. One of us is enough."

"There's no such thing as one of us. I'm your partner. Fighting evil is as much my job as it is yours." She squeezed hard. "If you die without me, I'll believe for the rest of my life that I could have saved you. And together, we could have saved them. That makes me just as responsible as you, if something terrible happens. You can't protect me from this. Let me be there; maybe we can protect each other."

"Who'll be the Middleman if we're both gone?" he tried, his voice desperate. "The Middle organization needs you."

"Don't tell me there isn't a contingency plan for losing both at once. Not the way Middlemen go jumping on grenades." Wendy shook her head sharply. "I told you once, you're mine. You had to give up your whole life once before, because it was the only halfway right choice. If it comes to that again -- and your honor, and your death -- then you aren't going alone."

He raised her hands to his lips. Wendy could see them all now: the soldier, the hero, the lover, even the ghost of the needy teenager. All loving her without limits, nothing held back. She couldn't find words, not even no regrets.

Wendy Watson leaned forward until her head rested on the Middleman's shoulder, turned a little to listen to his heartbeat. His arms went around her.

---

To be concluded.