Vortex

“Yes?”

“I didn’t choose to come to Vox. And to be honest? Knowing what I know now, I might have preferred to travel up the Ring, maybe see what those Middle Worlds are like.”

“I understand,” Oscar said cautiously.

“But I can’t do that. I can’t undo what’s been done and I can’t change the future. This is where I’m going to live and die.”

His eyes narrowed.

“And if I’m going to live here, I want to live with Allison. But I don’t want to watch her suffer.”

“There’s only one way to relieve her suffering.”

“She has to accept the implant.”

“Yes. Can you convince her to do that?”

“I don’t know. But I’m willing to try.”

His expression was cautious, opaque, calculating, the look of a gambler contemplating a bet. He said, “We gave her the Allison impersona so she could bond with you. You’re the reason she’s clinging to it. You could be the reason she abandons it.”

Down in the crater a chorus line of machines began welding iron beams, sparks showering from their fingers like falling stars.

“Maybe if I went first,” I said. “I mean, if I volunteered for the surgery.”

Oscar’s eyes widened. Then, slowly, he began to smile.

Chapter Seventeen Sandra and Bose

Bose phoned as he was pulling into the State Care parking lot. Sandra tucked everything she wanted to keep from her office—a few gigs of files, a photo of Kyle from before he was hurt—into her bag, then went to Reception to meet him.

Jack Geddes was still keeping vigil in the hallway. He stood up from his chair and said, “You leaving now, Dr. Cole?”

“Good night, Jack,” she said, which was not an answer. But he watched her head for the main lobby and waved as she turned the corner, no doubt happy to be released from surveillance duty.

Bose’s uniform and badge got him past the guard who was posted at Reception. The next hurdle was the night nurse in charge of the locked ward. Sandra led the way.

She knew the night nurse by reputation only. Her name was Meredith something—Sandra couldn’t remember, and the woman’s nametag just said MEREDITH. She appeared to be in her mid-fifties, with a don’t-mess-with-me expression that sat so naturally on her face Sandra suspected it might be congenital. Meredith stepped out from behind her desk when she saw Bose and Sandra approaching, effectively blocking the door to the ward. Before she could say anything Bose handed her a standard release-to-next-of-kin form, which he must have filled out himself. Meredith gave the document a frowning study.

“Just unlock the door, please, ma’am,” Bose said. “It’s late and I’d like to get this prisoner back to his family.”

“Prisoner he may be but he’s not your prisoner, not right now anyhow. And yes it’s late—what brings you around this hour of the night?”

Sandra took the initiative: “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dr. Cole. You’re right, it’s an unusual time to transfer up a patient, but just bear with us, please. I’ll sign the patient out.”

Meredith appeared to hesitate. According to staff gossip, the night nurses ran their wards like private fiefdoms. Clearly Meredith didn’t appreciate this intrusion into her kingdom. “Okay, Dr. Cole, but this Orrin Mather’s on a special protocol and I don’t see anything on his chart about you being his physician of record. What I do see is a notation from Dr. Congreve that you were pulled off the case a couple days ago.”

“Do you see anything on that chart about preventing a staff physician or a police officer from entering this ward? Because I’m starting to get impatient, Meredith.”

Meredith glared but reached for the switch that would unlock the ward door. Then she drew her hand back. “A patient transfer needs authorization from the attending physician.”

“I’m just asking you to open the door, Meredith.”

“Dr. Congreve might not like it.”

“If you keep us waiting any longer, I won’t like it. And I may not be Dr. Congreve, but I can sure as hell let him know you thought it was a good idea to stand here and give us attitude.”

Meredith made a lemon-sucking face but threw the switch. “I’m gonna have to talk to Dr. Congreve about this.”

“Your choice,” Sandra said.

The door ratcheted open. Sandra followed Bose along the corridor toward Orrin’s room. The lights had been dimmed, making the green-tiled hallway seem long and subterranean. “Nice work,” Bose said, glancing back. “But she’s already on the phone.”

The next problem was obvious as soon as Sandra used her pass card to open the door to Orrin’s room. Orrin lay on the bed as if he’d been dropped on it. Sandra shook him gently. “Orrin,” she said. “Hey! Orrin! ”

His eyes drifted open but the lids stayed at half-mast. “What?” he said softly. “What now, what now?”

He was heavily medicated. “Orrin, it’s me. It’s Dr. Cole.”

He gave her a groggy look. Fucking night staff, Sandra thought. Were they double-dosing everybody on the ward, to keep them quiet? Or just Orrin? “It’s dark outside, Dr. Cole…”

“I know it is, but you have to get up. Get up and come with us, okay?”

“Officer Bose,” Orrin said, still lying there inertly, his hospital gown rucked up over his skinny butt. “Hi.”

“Hi there, Orrin. Listen to me. Dr. Cole’s right. We have to get you out of here. Take you to see your sister Ariel. Is that okay with you?”

It took a few seconds for the question to register. Then Orrin offered a loopy grin. “That’s just exactly what I want, Officer Bose. Thank you… I’m pretty tired, though.”

“I know.” Bose bent down and put his arm around Orrin’s shoulders and helped him to his feet. Orrin wobbled but managed to remain standing.

“Easier with a wheelchair,” Sandra said. She ducked out of the room—the corridor was still empty, Nurse Meredith still at her station but talking vigorously into her phone—and grabbed one of the folding wheelchairs from the supply cubby. STATE CARE OF TEXAS / HOUSTON AREA UNIT was stenciled across the leather backpiece. The chair rattled as she wheeled it into Orrin’s room, startlingly loud in the stillness of the ward.

Bose helped Orrin into the chair. As soon as he was seated Orrin’s chin nodded toward his chest and his eyelids slid shut again. Maybe it was better that way, Sandra thought. She took the handles of the chair while Bose led the way to the exit.

But Meredith was blocking the ward door again, and now she had company—Jack Geddes.

“Hold on right there,” Meredith said. “I got Dr. Congreve on the phone, and he says you have no right to remove this patient. So you just wheel Mr. Mather back to his room and you can take up the matter with management in the morning.”

Bose ignored Meredith and directed his remarks to Geddes, who had bulled up to him with his chest thrust forward. “This is a police matter. I’m removing Mr. Mather on my authority.”

“You don’t have any authority,” Meredith said.

“You can get out of my way,” Bose told Geddes, “or I can arrest you for interference, but make up your mind, sir. I wouldn’t be here at this hour if this wasn’t urgent business.”

Sandra imagined Congreve taking the call in his car, turning around, heading back to State. How long ago had he left? Half an hour, forty-five minutes? Had he gone straight home or stopped on the way? She tried not to betray