Page 94 of Concluded
“Yes,” said John.He sounded better already.“I’d like that very much.”
CHAPTER38
Dee knew he ought to be grateful.
For three days he’d been left alone in Spurling’s mansion.Midway through the first of those days, a pair of expressionless and mostly silent thugs had shown up in Dee’s minimalistic room, scaring the crap out of him.But all they’d done was lead him down the hall to a different, larger bedroom before closing him inside.This one had a comfortable bed, a sitting area with a view of the vineyards, and an expansive bathroom with high-end towels and toiletries.Several sets of clothing were in the closet and dresser.And there was a giant TV.It was, he supposed, like being held prisoner in a very expensive hotel.
It was many orders of magnitude better than where Achilles now was—assuming he was even alive.Just thinking about that made Dee’s heart thump and his throat feel thick.
The room had a small fridge that contained assorted nonalcoholic beverages, and several times a day, unspeaking minions appeared bearing trays of delicious food.
But Dee didn’t feel grateful.He was angry—at everyone, including himself—and worried.He was so lonely that he was surprised when he looked in the mirror and his skin wasn’t withered like a dried apple.He was sad and scared and apprehensive.And he was also bored out of his mind.
He tried asking the minions for a book, but they ignored him.That left him with little to do except stare out the window at the unchanging vista or watch television.And gods, that was awful—nothing but bad news followed by worse.Smug politicians spouting lies, rich men spinning webs to make themselves richer, ecosystems collapsing, children dying, freedoms disappearing, diseases spreading, prisoners calling out for justice, educational institutions failing.
Dee wondered sometimes how much of what he saw was the direct result of Spurling and his pals.It didn’t really matter, though, whether they were creating catastrophes or merely delighting in them.That Yeats poem that Abe Ferencz had told him to read kept echoing in Dee’s brain:Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold….The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.A poem written in the aftermath of a war and a pandemic.
On the third day, with the sun already setting behind the nearby hills, Dee paced his gilded cage,the best lack all convictioncircling through his skull the way his body circled the room.But then he stopped suddenly.“That’s not true,” he said out loud.“The best have plenty of conviction.”Achilles, willing to give up his freedom and his life for even the smallest chance of making a difference.Charles and Tenrael, fighting for decades.Clay and Marek, Art and Jerry, all of the other Bureau agents and former agents still doing whatever they could even though the Bureau itself was gone.The coyote shifters and the aliens.And hell, the people he saw on TV, holding signs in protest marches, calling out their elected representatives, filing lawsuits.He was sure there were many more that didn’t make it onto the news, all of themholdingconviction that even the smallest gestures mattered.
“I’ll hold it too,” he promised himself, hands curling into tight fists as if hope were something he could physically hold on to.As if hope was a magic charm.
A short time later, Dee sat on the love seat, watching an influential female politician give a TV interview blaming immigrants for soaring retail prices.The interviewer nodded gravely, never questioning any of her assertions.One or both of them might be on Spurling’s side, Dee thought.They both had odd, shifty eyes.Or maybe that was just something to do with the TV signal.
The door suddenly flung open, startling Dee.Two beefy, bearded men wearing dark suits and white earbuds stepped inside.“Come with us,” they ordered in unison.
“Why?”
They took a synchronized step in his direction.“Your presence is requested.”
“What if I say no?”Dee crossed his arms.He didn’t know why he was being so difficult, except that a tiny bit of rebellion felt good.Even if it was pointless.
They again spoke together.“We’ll drag you if we have to.”
“What are you guys?Robots?”He wouldn’t put it past Spurling’s gang to create sophisticated androids.That might even be a trick that Irina could pull off, although Dee wasn’t sure about that.But no, one of these guys had a little dot of what might be mustard on his suit lapel, so he was probably not mechanical.Unless androids had to eat too.
Jesus, Dee was losing his mind in this place.
Meanwhile, the two were stomping closer, and it occurred to him that even if they weren’t robots, they weren’t necessarily human.In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if either of them turned out to be a bear shifter.
Since Dee had no desire to end up nearly gutted like Achilles, he rose and shuffled to the corner to put on his shoes.He did it as slowly as he could get away with, and behind him, the minions huffed and shuffled their feet, sounding more like ticked off bulls than bears.Were there cattle shifters too?
Finally he ran out of delaying tactics, and the three of them walked down a series of hallways, Dee flanked by the men for the entire way.“What’s with you guys, anyway?”he asked as they walked.“I’ve always kinda wondered what goes on in the heads of people like you.I doubt you consider yourselves evil.Are you true believers in Spurling’s cult?What are you getting out of it?Just the money?Maybe you’re natural followers and he just happens to be the leader you ended up with.”Dee could certainly empathize with that.
The guy on his right gave Dee’s shoulder a little shove.“Shut up, faggot.”
Dee never picked fights, but today he didn’t stop himself.It felt better than meekly going along with orders.“Ah, I see.You’re insecure in your masculinity and this job makes you feel tough.”
The man growled and looked as if he was going to do something more violent than shoving, but the other man barked, “Hey!Cut it out, Hunter.”
Hunter did, in fact, cut it out, but he compensated by stomping more loudly as they walked.When they reached a set of tall double doors, Hunter’s partner knocked before opening them and Hunter gave Dee a not-very-gentle push inside, causing him to stumble slightly.
He was in… a meeting room, an entirely unremarkable one.White walls with a couple pieces of bland abstract art and a large projection screen, industrial carpeting on the floor, and fluorescent lights overhead.A small stand in one corner held coffee supplies, while long tables were arranged into a rectangle in the center.About twenty people in suits sat around the rectangle.Most of them were white, middle-aged men, although a few were younger.Irina was there, standing beside Spurling.She wore a sleeveless red sheath dress and her hair was pulled back from her face in a tight bun.Her expression was grim, unlike Spurling, who grinned widely.The rest of the people stared at Dee, probably very much like he’d stared at the first alien he met.
“Thank you for joining us, Dee.”Spurling managed to sound both threatening and patronizing.“These are my colleagues.”He made a waving motion to indicate the assembly.
Looking closely, Dee thought he recognized a couple of them.CEOs of something, maybe.And they didn’t look evil: no horns or fangs or anything like that.But then, he’d met people with horns or fangs who weren’t evil at all, and books shouldn’t be judged by their covers.
“Who’s in charge?”Dee demanded.
