Chapter XXIX:
Crossing the Line
Gideon
"I'm sorry, but what part of that did you not understand?"
I've been stuck in this overblown excuse of an interrogation cell for two hours, recounting the same goddamn story for the third fucking time.
"The part where you claim that you, Ms. Cassidy, and Sergeant Boone were individually interrogated by Gloria Van Graff herself," Lieutenant Boyd deadpans while blowing another huff of her cigarette. The smell brings back memories. Believe me, tobacco north of Sacramento ain't worth your time. Stuff stinks like it's rotten, probably because the soil itself is rotten. As she downs it and pulls out another one, she continues:
"All because of some conspiracy you and your compatriots uncovered."
I've carefully left out Veronica's involvement in all this. It meant adjusting a few details, but it was better than admitting I kept the company of an enemy of the state. I doubted it would match up with most other testimonies but at this point I didn't much care. My suspicions about this thing going high up the chain of the NCR presence here just kept getting more and more confirmed the longer this interrogation went. Trust me, I know a two-way mirror when I see it.
"You say conspiracy as though I was pulling all of this out my ass," I snort, resisting the urge to cough when she spat smoke my way.
"That's the question, I suppose," she smiles as she drew another smoke. At this point, my patience was on threads. I reach across the way and snatch the damn thing out of her mouth before she has the chance to light it. You can imagine the look on her face as I deadpan her:
"Lieutenant, I have no reason to lie."
I emphasize my point by squashing the smoke onto the table, feeling it smolder under my palm as I continue:
"I have no allegiance to The Kings, or anybody else for that matter. My reasons for being here are personal, and have nothing to do with you and your little bidding war."
"And yet, here you are," she smiles again as she draws yet another cigarette, "to be quite honest, Mr. Maddox, I have every reason to suspect your story. You've managed to pop up in every single little piece of interesting news the last couple of weeks. While usually at the benefit of the Republic, you're an unknown element."
"I don't follow."
"As you said, your loyalties and even motivations are not directly obvious. You tend to go where there's trouble and do as you damn well please."
"Why don't you ask Colonel Moore about that?" I smirk, "Apparently, I have a file."
"I'm sure you do," she chuckles. I don't care if I sound nuts at this point. I'm not going to solve anything in here and the sooner I get out, the better, "you've also made very serious accusations against one particularly powerful business entity with a great deal of… well, influence might be putting it mildly."
"Well as they, Senators are just middlemen nowadays."
"Allegedly. You also claim that two others were involved in your described tortures, including a retiree, who I also happen to know from experience… and yet they are not here to testify."
I could feel a sudden throbbing in the back of my eye, and I grimace slightly. When the NCR dragged me out of the Fort, Arcade supplied me with a prescription of pain meds to keep the edge off. Unfortunately, that along with just about everything else I had on me had been 'confiscated' when I set foot in this place. I think Cancer-Lady here had something to do with that.
"Maybe I wasn't clear enough," I growl, "they're not in any shape to testify."
"Objective, Mr. Maddox. This is becoming a matter of hearsay."
"Is it now?" I smile. There was a personal benefit to the fact that the Followers' supply of stimpacks had yet to be restocked, and that benefit became clear when I undid the bandages covering my left eye. Her face didn't change all that much, somehow remaining stock-still. But her eyes told a different story, and I resist the urge to smirk.
"As I said," I continue, leaning in just a little closer to make my point stick, "Gloria Van Graff supplied the plasma weaponry Pacer and his men used to attack the refugee center. The injury you see now came from Gloria sticking a needle in my eye after I witnessed this exchange."
"I see," she finishes her cigarette, but didn't reach for another, "in your previous testimony, you stated that you and your associate, Mr. Tejada, pursued Pacer to the refugee center and engaged him. Is that correct?"
"As I said the last two times."
"You even reported seeing their weapons prematurely overheat and explode. One you even mention was used as a grenade on you and Mr. Tejada. Is this correct?"
"Yes."
"You've also stated, repeatedly, that you and your associates were taken captive by Mrs. Graff, and have done so in…" she eyes me strangely, "gruesome detail."
"What are you getting at?"
"You stated that you and your associates escaped captivity. However, this is the one section in your testimony that you are, well, shall we say… light on detail?"
"We escaped," I deadpan, "what more do you wanna to know?"
"Ms. Van Graff reported a number of unknown assailants assaulted her business, the Lion's Den, and killed several of her staff. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, Mr. Maddox?"
That reason alone was why I have tried to avoid talking about that… kid. I don't know who he is or why he's been shadowing me, but in either case, he's put me in a hard spot. My testimony is already up shit creek. Lying now would put it over the waterfall. But talking about it… well, I have a very good idea who's behind that glass, and if I do tell the truth… I'm probably not getting out of this room alive.
"No," I answer in the simplest way I can. But in either case, I'm not a good enough liar. I see the look in her eye, and I know.
"I think we're done here," she concludes as she rises from the table and moves to open the door. That's when it suddenly hits me.
"Lieutenant, you mentioned that Ms. Van Graff made that report."
"Yes," she says coyly as she turns around, eying me suspiciously, "why? Should Goria not be able to make that report?"
No, she shouldn't be. When I let that thing out of the doll, Gloria should've been dead within minutes. And yet she's well enough to make a report about something she wasn't even present for. I don't what that means exactly… but I need to find out.
"How long ago did she make that report?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Just humor me."
She stares at me for a bit of while, no doubt searching my face from some hidden answer. But, I don't give it. Probably because, to be quite frank, I don't know exactly what I'm looking for.
"A few hours ago," she answers after probably mulling over what she should give away, "I decided to hold her when you were brought into the equation."
"Thanks," and I'm out the door before she or the guards on either side of the door can stop me. When I was brought into McCarran Air Base, the NCR's main stronghold in this region, I made a note of everything I saw coming in. One of them was the other prison cell downstairs. I originally thought that was where my own interrogation was going to take place, but instead was been brought up here. I have the guess that her testimony was being held there, and I need to get down there before she escapes to the protection of Freeside, or before the guards following me stop me and take me off the base. I doubt they'll actually shoot me considering we're still inside the main terminal, and there are a lot of folks milling about between me and them.
My boots squeak loudly off the waxed tiled floor as I turn a corner, and find myself in the main campus of the facility. A jet fighter hanged from the roof, its nose painted in the form of a lion. Pointed my way, I couldn't help but feel a bit spooked by it, all things considered. However, the sounds of more boots coming down from the hall was enough to snap me out of it and I made my way to the edge of the balcony. Below me was probably what used to be the admittance area and baggage assembly back when people used to fly out of here, and it presented me with a tangled maze of metal. Funny enough, the people down there milling about almost remind me of mice looking for cheese at the end of said maze.
That's when I see her. Trust me, she stands out like a thorn. At this point though, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do, or why the hell I even bothered running over here. I just feel… she suddenly turns around and she sees me up her.e Her plastic smile was enough to make my blood boil and I slowly take the steps down to the next level. It wasn't a cruel or a vindictive smile, nor was it particularly smug like I'd expect. Instead, it was if she was seeing an old friend, and that deception alone was what started the drums in the deep.
"Hello, Gideon," her smile deepens as I make my way across the room, "you're looking a might bit better than when I last saw you. Mon dieu," she feigns concern, her hand rising to her mouth, "when was it? Ten years ago?"
"Six."
I stop a few yards from her. Her bodyguards move in between us, but she raises her hand and they back off. She steps closer and grins slyly at me.
"Yes… six. It was very rude of you to leave so suddenly. We were having such a merveilleux time. Especially with your friend," she gets even closer and her grin became like the Cheshire Cat, "she was so… sensitive. Oh, I would've loved a few hours with her. I think she would find me… un professeur digne."
The drums get louder. I could see little shards creeping into my vision and I feel my hands curl up into a fist. But I relax, taking a breath; letting it out. I lean in close, hovering over her as I reply with all the calm I can manage:
"I don't know whose payroll you're on, Gloria. But I'm gonna find out… and I'm gonna expose you."
"Are you now?" she laughs, "And what proof do you have?"
"I'll find some soon enough."
"I'm sure you will, le loup."
"You're not gonna get away with this, Gloria," I smile with fake bravado.
"Oh chéri," she strokes my arm, making me flinch, "I've already won. And that feeling hopelessness that you have in this moment? I would suggest you get accustom to it."
"And why's that?"
"That would be telling, chéri," she smiles dismissively, "just know that I will be seeing you again soon. Especially your friend. I have… unfinished business with her," my fists clench again and the drums just keep getting louder; my vision starting to turn red, "oh and Ms. Cassidy? I would most certainly like a word with her—"
"Oh shut up!"
With a snarl, my hand tightens around her throat and I slam her into a support beam. As her guards move around us, she again raises her hand despite the sudden panic in her eyes.
"All I have to do is squeeze," I hiss in her face, slowly tightening my grip on her throat. She just smiles and smiles at me like she hadn't a care in the world, her eyes cold like a rattler.
"All I have to do is scream."
Strong hands then take me by the shoulders and reluctantly I release mine. But in doing so, I pulled on her blouse a little by accident and in doing so, I see the reason why Spooky hasn't turned her into a ragdoll yet. It was a necklace made of little beads with symbols scribed on them. I have the sickening feeling they're made of bone. Her face suddenly pales as she clutches them tightly; her eyes wide with pure, uncontrollable fear. Then she ran like the Devil himself was chasing her.
"Devil…" I muse softly as the two MP's take me in the opposite direction. A sickening thought crosses my mind, and I swallow hard. An idea, a plan… but a stupid one. A really stupid one. I don't remember much about my time in New Reno, but I do remember one particular lesson, drilled into me by frail old medicine men and witch doctors.
Do not disturb the spirits of the dead, and never disturb their keepers. Unfortunately, I get the sudden impulse to do both. I sigh. I need a drink.
Two hours later
I know it's a bad idea to be drinking anything that could dehydrate you, especially considering the throbbing mess that happens to sit between my eyes. But the idea of what I'm thinking about doing… well, makes you evaluate certain things in life. I look up at the guy serving me drinks and I mouth 'another'. I don't drink the stuff at first. I instead stare at it, and I start to think.
Why am I doing this? I wasn't lying when I said that my reasons being here are personal. I have no connection to these people. I honestly didn't give a shit about them before, and now? I dunno. Maybe seeing people living in shit but soldiering on strikes a cord with me or something.
A large part of my brain is telling me to get out town. Grab everybody, get in the Rover and just drive. Hell, drive out of the Mojave if it comes to it. But the other part is shouting back something along the lines of 'we don't walk out on people.'
"Do we?" I ask myself as I stare into my own reflection in the liquor. I think back to Goodsprings, back to Primm and even back to Boulder City. All times I could've walked away. Should've walked away… but I didn't.
'You can't fix everything with a gun,' the logical side of my brains says, 'and this time, you can't just shoot the bad guys to death.'
I shake my head. No, I can't. I finally take the drink, and the burn going down becomes a far more tolerable pain than this. I feel the pain behind my eye get a tad sharper, and I pop a pill. Not sure how much of a good idea it is to down the stuff with a shot of whiskey, but if getting shot at and blown up the past few weeks hasn't been enough to do me in… well, I doubt this will.
It's not just the fact I can't shoot my way out of this, or I can't clearly see the bad guys in front of me. No, that ain't it. It's the fact that before, I could see the line. The line you do not cross. I never had to compromise before, and I always knew in the back of my mind I didn't make a habit of doing so.
But yet here… I'm thinking about doing not only that, but taking one giant leap across it. That's what scares me. And that's why I'm in the middle of this dead end bar run by two same face twins and surrounded by a bunch of goddamn showgirls who've been trying to get me into a bed the moment I walked into this place. I then feel yet another feminine stroke along my arm, and I snap:
"For the last damn time, I ain't interested in fucking you or your damn friends, so leave me the hell alone, lady!"
"Well, I'm glad. You're cute, but you're really not my type."
"V?" I turn around and there she is, with that mischievous smirk on her lips. She then leans in and whispers:
"And to tell you the truth, I sure as hell wouldn't want to get into bed with any of these broads."
"Oh, you got standards, then?" I shitgrin her, and she just rolls her eyes.
"Of course, I've got standards. I'm more into the overly cute, school girl type but who are too shy to admit it."
"Really?"
"Wait, why am I telling you this?"
"I dunno. Why are you telling me this?"
"Hmm, probably because you're brooding again, Mr. McBroodster," she chuckles as she lightly jabs my arm, "you know, I swear you look like a lost little puppy most of the time."
"Thanks," and I down the shot. I offer it, and she nods.
"Another, and one for the lady."
"So," Veronica says as she settles down in the chair next to me, "how'd it go with Intel?"
The look I give her was enough. She nods knowingly, and I have a feeling I know why.
"I'm not surprised," and she slumps further into her chair, holding her shot like a vigil for the dead.
"I did run into somebody while I was there."
"Oh? Who?"
"Gloria Van Graff."
Her face contorts into something between horror and rage, and I quickly explain what I saw. She snorts and takes a snip of her shot.
"That figures. Leave it up mustache twirling villains to find a way to cheat the hangman."
"Yeah."
"So, what are we going to do, then?"
"I don't know yet. Guess that's why I'm here. Wait, why are you here?" I ask suddenly, my back hairs getting very tense. She shrugs.
"I snapped at Arcade over something really stupid, and he told me to get some air."
"You shouldn't be outside the Fort. If they find out you're here..."
"I don't think they care."
I raise an eyebrow, and she sighs wearily at it, setting her shot down.
"Gideon, if they really wanted, they could've taken me back at Boulder, and there would've been nothing you or anybody else could've done to stop it. But they didn't."
"Why?"
"That's what I've been asking myself ever since I had the chance to think. And because of that, I honestly don't think they're going to just suddenly scoop me up in a big black van or something like that."
"They have vans?"
"Funny," she chuckles, "but I just couldn't stay in there a moment longer. Not with…"
She doesn't finish the sentence, and I nod simply.
"He said you looked like his wife."
"I know."
I look at her oddly and she just shrugs at me.
"I could see it in his eyes the moment he saw me. It's… not the first time. Not just with others seeing me, but… well, with me, too."
"Christine?"
She nods somberly.
"I see it every now and then. Somewhere in a crowd, my leggy brunette staring at me. Honestly," she downs her shot and orders another, "I can't get in bed with another woman and not think about her. Usually spoils the mood and I slink away to some dark corner to cry like some highschool drama queen."
"V…"
"No, Gideon, just…" she sighs again and sips at her shot, staring into the hardwood top for a long stretch, "you know what's funny? Boone reminds me of her."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah. Hard as nails killing machine? All clamp shut and sullen like a grumpy cat, but sweet deep down. It confuses me, to be honest. I mean, we're supposed to be enemies, and yet we're seeing the ghosts of our loved ones in each other."
"Maybe it's the Angels feeling sorry."
"At this point, I wouldn't doubt it. Maybe we're just two sick puppies who need company that doesn't involve me having to disappoint him."
"Well," I sigh as I lean against the counter, "the way I see it, we're all a bunch of emotionally fucked up people who need closure. Hell, even Raul found his old flame again."
"Yeah, can you imagine that? It's pretty romantic."
"Never thought I'd hear that about a ghoul."
"Yeah well, crazier things have happened."
"Like Angels and Voodoo spirits."
I could feel her looking at me weirdly.
"What's got you on the subject of Angels all of a sudden?"
I sigh, and I finish my shot before answering:
"I've got the theory that the Ice Queen's the one who's pulling the strings behind all of this crap. Apparently, she and the King are old enemies."
"That… I don't know, Gideon."
"You don't think so?"
"Yes… and no. I never fought against her personally, but I've heard enough about her to know that this just doesn't fit up her alley. I mean sure, she was cunning as any Full Bird ought to be, but she'd rather run over her problems with a steamroller."
"I'm curious, how do you do that with folks like yours?"
"Oh you know, guns. And maybe bombing whole areas until there was nothing left but craters. And…" she stopped cold and shuddered slightly, "well, let's just say I know how those rabbits felt in Watership Down when they got trapped in their own warren."
I had to suppress the rather disturbing images that came from that description. But in the end, I nod.
"So, all this cloak and dagger stuff ain't something she's ought to do?"
"No. But at the same time, the results would align with her particular agenda regarding this place."
"Oh?"
"She's a patriot, but she's one of those bad kinds of patriots."
"Bottom line, don't care about the casualties?"
"Pretty much. And considering what just happened, well… if she's not the one directly pulling the strings, she might still be the one at the top of the food chain."
I nod at this, and I go back to the beginning.
"So, she or someone beneath her arranges for the services of the Van Graff's to help them frame the Kings so they can have an excuse to annex this place."
"Yeah, but at what cost? I heard that the Van Graff's and the Republic are not exactly at the best of terms."
"They're not. So, whatever it is, it would have to be something big and probably something illegal."
"'An offer they can't refuse,'" she laughs as she mimicked the Mafioso accent, "so what do you think it is? Maybe they get a chunk of Freeside?"
"No. The Van Graff's aren't interested in territory, they've already got enough of it. Nah, what they're interested in is money, and controlling the markets to keep making them money."
"So, they're Capitalists?"
"Capitalists with a psychotic streak, sure. But in either case, I have the feeling that's the lynch pin behind all of this."
"Great, so all we have to do is find out before the NCR roll right through here. So, got any ideas?"
"I do… but I don't like it. And I don't think you will, either."
"Why do you say that?"
I sigh at this.
"You remember Spooky?"
She shudders violently.
"How could I forget? Why, what do you have in mind?"
"Well, to be perfectly blunt, I'm seriously thinking about pulling an Exorcist."
"You mean…?"
I nod. Then she goes and states the obvious:
"But I thought you said that necklace of hers is keeping him away."
"Yeah… I've also got an idea of how to get around that, too. But that's the part I'm not sure it's going to even get off the ground."
"How come?"
"Well, I doubt Angels fancy the idea of helping me stick a crazy spirit in a human body, even if it is Gloria Van Graff."
She gives me the 'yeah, you think?' look. I nod in agreeance.
"Still none of this is going to be possible without first getting Spooky to agree to all this, and to do that, we're going to need to summon him. And I unfortunately," well, maybe fortunately depending on how you look at it, "don't know how to do that."
She laughs a bit and I look at her oddly. She just shakes her head.
"I think I know someone who can help with that."
"Who?"
"Raul's old flame. Beatrix Russell."
"You're shitting me."
"I picked up on the rumor from the Fort that she apparently hogtied some witch or warlock or whatever somewhere and forced him or her to teach her everything he or she knew."
"Why?"
"Oh, I have no idea. But she's probably the only lead we've got."
"Yeah," I sigh as I down my shot in a go. Well, shit. I guess I'm crossing the line. I just hope I don't live to regret it.
Translations
French
Merveilleux – Marvelous
un professeur digne – a worthy teacher
le loup - wolf
