Saints Astray (Santa Olivia #2)

Saints Astray (Santa Olivia #2) Page 62

Loup sighed. “Okay. So what about the others?”

“Others?”

She gestured in the direction of the cell block. “The other detainees.”

“Ah.” Abernathy frowned. “Because they’re subject to military regulations, their cases are different.”

“Have any of the normal soldiers who wrote affidavits been detained?”

“No. They’ve been suspended from duty for the moment, but we don’t have the facilities to detain them.”

“Goddamnit!” Loup scowled. “Why only the GMOs? What the fuck are they afraid of?”

“I’m not sure,” he said hesitantly. “Except that throughout history, there are innumerable tales of man’s creations turning against their creator. I suspect it’s a deeply ingrained fear.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You’re not angry at how you’ve been treated?” Abernathy asked.

“Angry? Yeah, sure. This sucks.” She shrugged again. “I’m bored and lonely and pretty sure I’d be scared if I could be. There’s that empty feeling. But I don’t want to get back at anyone for it. I just want things to be fixed. Fair.”

“Do you think the others feel the same way?”

“I don’t know why they wouldn’t.”

“Interesting.” He rose. “I’ll be in touch.”

More waiting.

To keep from losing her wits, Loup kept active in her cell. She shadow-boxed and did push-ups and crunches, adhering to the discipline honed by endless hours of training. She made sure to meditate every day. She finished rereading Great Expectations and started it over for a third time. She daydreamed about running freely along the coast at Huatulco like she’d been able to do the first time she visited her family there, the sun at her back and the water splashing under her feet.

And about Pilar.

She daydreamed a lot about Pilar.

There were so many good memories now. Some of her favorites were the funny ones. It made her smile every time to think of Pilar flung over Raimundo’s shoulder, swearing indignantly; or Pilar provoking Sabine with disingenuous innocence. Then there were the nice ones, like Pilar giving her the necklace on the train, or Pilar looking happy and pleased with herself for finding the best places to eat, knowing how much Loup would enjoy it.

A thousand good memories.

All of them were better than remembering her broken look when they said goodbye.

A solid month after the Outpost hearings concluded, Tom Abernathy came to see her with a bounce in his step, a gleam in his eye, and a military doctor in tow.

“News?” Loup brightened.

“Very good news,” Abernathy confirmed. “The president has appointed an independent commission to study the Human Rights Amendment.” He grinned at her. “You’re the genie they couldn’t put back in the bottle, Loup! They can hide a lot under the guise of national security, including your fellow detainees, but too many people saw that footage of you, and there are too many people who had actual contact with you willing to testify it’s not a hoax.”

“That’s great!”

“Dr. Morgan is here to take a sample of your DNA.”

She opened her mouth obediently and let him swab the inside of her cheek. “Do I get to see the results?”

“Do you want to?” the doctor asked.

“Maybe.” She thought about what Christophe had said about preferring not to know. “I’m not sure.”

The doctor gave her a sympathetic look. “They’ll be available if you want them.”

“Thanks.”

He left, having gotten what he needed.

“So what happens now?”

“It depends,” Abernathy said. “The GMO Commission will issue subpoenas for all the materials relating to the Sino-Haitian program and subsequent experiments. The Department of Defense will refuse in the interest of national security. My guess is that while that gets settled in the courts, they’ll proceed by considering your particular case.”

“Whether or not I’m fit to be considered human.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I am?”

He flushed. “Of course I do!”

“People don’t know,” Loup said thoughtfully. “All they know is rumors and stuff. The driver who took me to the Kate concert, he was surprised that I was so upset about leaving Pilar. Like he thought I didn’t feel.”

“It’s obvious that you do.”

“To you.”

Abernathy sighed and rumpled his tidy hair. “I won’t hold any influence over the commission, Loup. I can’t control what they ask or don’t ask. Can you cry on cue? Because that would be helpful.”

“No,” she said. “I can’t cry.”

“No?”

Loup shook her head. “Not like you. My eyes hurt, but they don’t make tears.”

He was quiet a moment. “You understand theater, though, don’t you? That footage with the stun gun… you provoked them on purpose, didn’t you? You knew there was a camera on you.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Abernathy echoed. He summoned a smile. “Well, maybe I have an idea or two of my own. And maybe a word or two dropped in certain unofficial channels might produce results.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Don’t ask.”

“Why?”

“Because whatever happens, I want your reaction to be honest,” he said earnestly. “I want the commission to see it. I want them to see what I see in you. Are you willing to trust me, Loup?”

She searched his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

He sighed. “Good.”

FORTY-SEVEN

The GMO Commission began its investigation.

Their opening moves played out as Tom Abernathy had predicted, and when the issue of classified documents moved to the courts, the commission’s attention turned to Loup.

First came a battery of physical examinations. She submitted to them without complaint, letting a team of doctors poke and prod her in the medical facility of the detention center. In the center’s unused gym, they hooked her up to a heart-rate monitor and had her run on a treadmill. She increased her speed gradually, moving slowly from a normal human pace to a full flat-out run until the belt moved in a whining blur and the motor began to smell hot.

“Jesus Christ,” one of the doctors murmured.

Loup laughed and slowed down. “Nah. I can’t walk on water.” He gave her a startled look. “It’s a joke, okay? Yes, I have a sense of humor.”

That made him smile. “I’ll pass that on to the psychology team.”

The psychological tests came next. At least it was a change from the lonely tedium of her cell and Great Expectations. They hooked her up to more monitors and had her watch a multitude of video clips, analyzing her responses and interviewing her about them.

“What’s all this supposed to prove?” Loup asked Dr. Sheridan, the head of the psych team.

“We’re measuring the range of your emotional responses.” She consulted a monitor. “How did the last clip make you feel?”

“Bored.”

The doctor raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t feel any empathy for the woman being stalked?”

“It’s just a movie. I know it’s not real.”

“What if I told you it was actual video footage from a security camera and the woman was in fact killed?” Dr. Sheridan inquired.

Loup’s pulse increased. “Then it would make me mad.” With an effort, she kept her voice level. “And if it’s true, I’d say that’s a pretty sick thing to show me.”

“Mad,” the doctor mused. “Do a lot of things make you angry?”

“No.”

“What does?”

She thought about it. “People getting hurt.”

“And yet you’ve hurt a number of people. You have a history of violent assault. Were you angry at the time?”

“Sometimes.” Loup sighed. “Look, I get angry when innocent people are hurt, okay? I was mad at the soldier who raped Katya and the dog killers. I was mad at the terrorist guy in Switzerland who wanted to shoot that kid. Wouldn’t you be?”

Dr. Sheridan didn’t answer. “Do you always act on your anger?”

“If there’s something I can do, I guess.”

“Do you think violence solves problems?”

“Not always, no. Of course not.”

“Sometimes? Most of the time?”

Loup eyed her. “Well, I’m starting to get pretty fucking irritated right about now, but I don’t think getting violent would solve anything.”

“But you’re having violent urges.”

“No! Jesus, lady, I was being ironic. You’re trying to make me out like I’m some kind of psychopath.”

“That’s interesting you would say that,” the doctor observed. “Do you think you’re a psychopath?”

“No!”

“You trained as a boxer. Do you like fighting?”

“Yeah, I do.” Loup sighed again. “I enjoy the sport, okay? But no, I don’t get off on hurting people.”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Depends.” She searched for a way to answer. “Bad, sometimes. Like those guards in Vegas, they were just doing their job. In the boxing ring, at least in the only real fight I ever had, it was just about winning or losing. I felt good about winning, but I was glad to know Johnson was okay afterward. I guess the only time I really felt good about hurting someone was the guy in Switzerland. And believe me, if you had someone try to shoot you, you’d feel pretty good about punching them out, too.”

“Do you—”

“Want to know the worst I ever felt about hurting someone?” Loup interrupted her. “I said something that hurt my brother Tommy’s feelings the day he died, and I never got to tell him I was sorry for it. He died hurt and mad at me. I felt awful about it. I still do. Want to know the next worst? Leaving Pilar. There are all kinds of ways of hurting people and most of them suck.”