The Twelve

Coming from the man’s mouth, the word seemed completely alien. Love was the property of a different age; it was positively prehistoric.

“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

Guilder’s face bunched with a frown. “Really, it seems like a perfectly simple question to me. Choirs of angels singing in their heaven, your feet levitating three inches off the ground. You know. In love.”

“I guess not.”

“It’s a yes or no thing, Lawrence. It’s one or the other.”

He thought of Lila. Love was what he felt for her, but not the way Guilder meant. “No. I’ve never been in love.”

Guilder was looking past him. “Well I was, once. Her name was Shawna. Though that wasn’t her real name, of course. She had skin like butter, Lawrence. I’m totally serious here. That was how it tasted. Something a little Asian about her eyes, you know that look? And her body, well.” He rubbed his face and exhaled a melancholy breath. “I don’t feel that part anymore. The sex part. The virus pretty much takes care of that. Nelson thought the steroids you were taking might have been the reason the virus was different in you. There might have been some truth to that. But you make your bed, you have to lie in it.” He chuckled ironically. “Make your bed. That’s funny. That’s a laugh.”

Grey said nothing. Whatever mood Guilder was in, it seemed to have nothing to do with him.

“I suppose it’s not such a bad thing on the whole. I can’t honestly say that sex ever did me any favors. But even after all these years, I still think about her. Little things. Things she said. The way the sun looked, falling over her bed. I kind of miss the sun.” He paused. “I know she didn’t love me. It was all a big act was what it was. I knew that from the start, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself. But there you have it.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Why?” His gaze narrowed on Grey’s face. “That should be obvious. You can be pretty obtuse, if you’ll pardon my saying so. Because we’re friends, Lawrence. I know, you probably think I’m the worst thing that ever happened to you. It could certainly appear that way. I’m sure this all might feel a little unfair. But you really left me no choice. Honestly, Lawrence? As odd as it seems, you’re the oldest friend I have.”

Grey held his tongue. The man was completely delusional. Grey found himself involuntarily flexing against his chains. The greatest happiness of his life, short of dying, would be to pop Guilder’s head clean off.

“What about Lila? I don’t mean to pry, but I always thought there was something between you two. Which was pretty surprising, given your history.”

Something twisted inside him. He didn’t want to talk about this, not now, not ever. “Leave me alone.”

“Don’t be like that. I’m just asking.”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

Guilder inched his face a little closer, his voice lowered confidentially. “Tell me something. Do you still hear him, Lawrence? The truth now.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Guilder shot him a correcting frown. “Please, can we not? Do this? He’s real is what I’m asking you. It’s not some bullshit in my head.” He was peering at Grey intently. “You know what he’s asked me to do, don’t you?”

There seemed no point denying it. Grey nodded.

“And on the whole, taking everything into consideration, you think it’s a good idea? I feel like I need your input here.”

“Why does it matter what I think?”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re still his favorite, Lawrence, no doubt about that. Oh sure, I may be the one in charge. I’m the captain of this ship. But I can tell.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No, it’s not a good idea. It’s a terrible idea. It’s the worst idea in the world.”

Guilder’s eyebrows lifted, like a pair of parachutes catching the air.

“Look at you.” For the first time in eons, Grey actually laughed. “You think he’s your friend? You think any of them are your friends? You’re their bitch, Guilder. I know what they are. I know what Zero is. I was there.”

He’d obviously struck a nerve. Guilder began clenching and unclenching his fists; Grey wondered, in a lazy way, if the man was about to hit him. The prospect didn’t concern him in the least; it would break the monotony. It would be something different, a new kind of pain.

“I have to say, your response is more than a little disappointing, Lawrence. I was hoping I could count on a little support. But I’m not going to stoop to your level. I know you’d like that, but I’ll be the bigger man. And just a little FYI: the Project was completed today. A real ribbon cutter. I was saving that as, you know, a surprise, something I thought you’d enjoy hearing about. You could be a part of this if you wanted. But apparently I’ve misjudged you.”

He rose and headed for the door.

“What do you want, Guilder?”

The man turned back, leveling his blood-red eyes.

“What’s in it for you? I never could figure that out.”

A long silence, then: “Do you know what they are, Grey?”

“Of course I know.”

But Guilder shook his head. “No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t have to ask. So I’ll tell you. They’re the freest things on earth. Without remorse. Without pity. Without love. Nothing can touch them, hurt them. Imagine what that would be like, Lawrence. The absolute freedom of it. Imagine how wonderful that would be.”

Grey made no reply; there was none to be made.

“You ask me what I want, my friend, and I’ll give you my answer. I want what they have. I want that little whore out of my head. I want to feel… nothing.”

The vase hit the wall in a satisfying explosion of glass. The car bombing was the last straw. This had to end now.

Guilder summoned Wilkes to his office. By the time his chief of staff entered the room, Guilder had managed to calm himself a little.

“Round up ten more per day.”

Wilkes seemed taken aback. “Um, anybody in particular?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Jesus, sometimes the man could be thick as a plank. “Don’t you get it? It never mattered. Just pull them out of morning roll.”

Wilkes hesitated. “So you’re saying it should just be, you know, arbitrary. Not people we suspect of having ties to the insurgency, necessarily.”

“Bravo, Fred. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

For a second Wilkes just stood there, staring at Guilder with a bewildered look on his face. Not bewildered: disturbed.

“Yes? Am I talking to myself here?”

“If you say so. I can work up a list and send it down the hill to HR.”

“I don’t care how you do it. Just put it together.” Guilder tossed a hand toward the door. “Now get out of here. And send an attendant to clean up this mess.”

43

The route to Hollis was more circuitous than Peter had anticipated. The trail had taken them first to a friend of Lore’s, who knew someone who knew someone else; always they seemed to be one step away, only to find that the target had moved.

Their last lead directed them to a Quonset hut where an illegal gambling hall operated. It was after midnight