Replica

“Don’t you think that’s a little … extreme?”

His father leaned back in his chair, cradling the scotch in his lap. “They attacked the Chairman Heir. That’s the very definition of treason.”

Nate sipped his scotch again, but if he was going to use scotch as his pressure valve when his temper flared, he’d need the bottle. He gripped the tumbler rather more tightly than necessary, but tried to keep his voice level. The longer he could keep the tension from escalating into something resembling a fight, the better chance he had of convincing his father to be a little more lenient.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told exactly,” he said, “but no one actually attacked me. Some idiot in the crowd threw an egg. That’s all that happened. And security went berserk. The crowd didn’t get out of hand at all. It was the security officers. They started in with the pepper spray and batons just because someone threw an egg.”

“Your bodyguard interpreted it as an attack. I hear he wrestled you to the ground.”

Nate waved that off. “He saw someone throw something. For all he knew, it was a rock or a grenade. I’d have ducked myself if I’d seen it coming. But it wasn’t a rock or a grenade. It was an egg. I was not attacked, so there’s no reason to charge those people with treason.”

Nate remembered the sight of the security officer beating the guy who’d thrown the egg. As far as Nate was concerned, the poor bastard had more than paid for his offense already. Assuming he’d survived. Just because the news didn’t mention any fatalities among the demonstrators didn’t mean there weren’t any.

The Chairman swirled his scotch around in his glass, one corner of his mouth tipped up in a patronizing smile. “You’re a good kid, son,” he said in an equally patronizing voice. “You have a good heart and a generous spirit. But I don’t care if they threw marshmallows at you. I will not have my son and heir attacked by an unruly mob of idiots who want to throw away the goose that laid the golden egg because it makes them uncomfortable.”

Nate leaned forward in his chair and put the scotch down. It wasn’t helping his temper any, though he was fighting like hell to stay calm and in control of himself. An impassioned, emotional appeal to the Chairman’s better nature had no chance of working. A rational, reasoned one just might.

“You didn’t see what I saw,” he said, wishing he could scrub the sights and sounds out of his memory. “The moment the pepper spray came out, the people at the front of the crowd tried to run away, but they couldn’t because the people behind them didn’t know what was going on. They were trying to run, trying to protect their faces, and the security officers sprayed them anyway, then started whaling on them with their batons. The guy who threw the egg was lying there in fetal position as they beat him, and no one else had done anything worse than yell and wave signs around. They’ve already been beaten and tortured with pepper spray. They don’t deserve to be tried for treason just because they happened to be present when someone threw an egg.” Maybe if he repeated the part about the egg often enough, the Chairman would finally see the ridiculousness of the overreaction.

Nate was proud of himself for managing to stay so calm and reasonable. Nadia would be impressed with his restraint. And she thought he couldn’t contain his temper! If she could see him now, she’d realize how wrong she had been not to trust him.

The Chairman shook his head and sighed. “You’re missing the point, son. There were arrests made after that first demonstration at the Fortress, but most of those people were released without charges, and those who were charged were fined, not jailed. And because we didn’t take a hard enough stance against that kind of behavior, those animals showed up at Headquarters today. They will continue to show up in ever greater numbers unless we forcefully discourage such behavior. Filing treason charges against the rioters will be a powerful deterrent to anyone else who might think about setting up another such demonstration.”

A chill sank into him as Nate stared at his father and a suspicion wormed its way into his mind. His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips as every muscle in his body tensed.

“Why didn’t you have the demonstrators dispersed before I arrived?” he asked, his voice strained. He prayed for his father to look puzzled, to not understand what Nate was getting at. If he didn’t understand, that meant Nate’s sickening suspicion was wrong. But the Chairman merely folded his hands on the desk and returned his stare, his face bland as he dared Nate to put voice to what had happened.

“Were you hoping someone would do something stupid when I showed up at the scene?” Nate asked when it was clear his father wasn’t going to answer. “Did you order the security officers to attack the crowd at the slightest provocation?”

Still no answers. And no shifting of the bland expression on the Chairman’s face.

Nate shoved back his chair, barely even feeling the protest of his back and gut muscles as he leapt to his feet, the full horror of what had happened finally dawning on him.

“It was even worse than that, wasn’t it? You ordered the security officers to attack. And you ordered them to wait until I made an appearance, so you could use my presence as an excuse for a treason charge!”

It had all been one massive setup. Thirty-two innocent people were going to lose their liberty and maybe even their lives because Chairman Hayes wanted to discourage protests.

Nate had always known his father was a hard man, that he saw the world through a lens of cold logic. He was probably capable of compassion, but only when it was strategically expedient. But this was an atrocity worse than he’d imagined his father capable of.

The Chairman rose to his feet much more slowly, leaning forward and putting his fists on his desk. “Before you storm out in a cloud of righteous indignation, remember this: my concern is for the well-being of Paxco. The relentless insistence on individual liberties over the needs of society as a whole is what led to the dissolution of the United States. We have to learn from our predecessors’ mistakes. That will mean some individuals are treated unfairly, but that’s the price we have to pay.”

“The price they have to pay, you mean,” Nate said, shaking his head in disgust. “Justify yourself all you want. What you did was despicable.”

The Chairman rolled his eyes. “Get out and take your high horse with you. Someday, you’re going to have to grow up and see the world as it really is, but that day obviously hasn’t come yet.”

Nate reached down and grabbed the crystal tumbler he’d been drinking out of. Knowing that he was justifying his father’s view of him as a spoiled child throwing a temper tantrum, Nate couldn’t help hurling the tumbler at the wall with all his strength. The spray of shattered glass was not as satisfying as he’d hoped it would be.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Nadia sat alone in the den, waiting for Nate to show up for their eight o’clock “date.” They usually tried to make a public appearance together at least once a month, giving the press an opportunity to photograph them and giving the high-society gossips something to talk about, but it was their quiet, private get- togethers that she had always enjoyed most, the nights when they’d stayed in and talked or watched a movie or played games. These were times reminiscent of their childhood together, when they didn’t fully understand what the handshake agreement between their families would mean to them in time.

Tonight was going to be a very different story.

She’d tried to call Nate after hearing about the riot, but she’d gotten his voice mail. She’d left a message, but he hadn’t called back. Late in the afternoon, he’d texted her a terse message assuring her he was all right, but that was it. Apparently, he didn’t want to talk to her. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, but it still hurt.

She resisted the urge to call him again and took a page from his book, texting him to remind him of their scheduled date. She had a feeling he would conveniently “forget” about it if she didn’t, and she needed him to show up so she could fill him in on her interview with Mosely—and figure out what to do about the new tracker Mosely had ordered her to plant.

Nate hadn’t answered her text, and he was now a half hour late. It wasn’t unusual for him, but Nadia couldn’t help but take it as yet another slap in her face. She kept taking her phone out and looking at it, hoping he’d sent a message that she somehow hadn’t noticed.

Three times, she started to text him to confirm he was coming, and three times she erased what she’d