Saints Astray (Santa Olivia #2)

Saints Astray (Santa Olivia #2) Page 64

Miguel considered. “Nope.”

“Thank you for your time.”

The commission ordered a brief recess before continuing. Tom Abernathy brought Loup hot tea with milk.

“Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She glanced at him. “That was your big plan to make me seem more human? Bring in Pilar and yank my heart out of my chest?”

“Ah… yes.”

She sighed. “Good plan.”

He was quiet a moment. “What Mr. Garza said. It’s true. If the Outpost hearings hadn’t gone as they did, I’d have gone public with my knowledge.”

“You’re a good guy, Abernathy.”

He smiled wryly. “Not really. I’ve known about it for a long time.”

“Yeah, really.” Loup sipped her tea, manacled hands clasped around the cup. “Sometimes things happen for a reason, you know?”

“God, I hope so.”

The GMO Commission reconvened and put Loup back on the stand. Marian Gallagher peered over her reading glasses with a curious gaze. “Ms. Garron, we have highly conflicting descriptions of your nature. How do you account for this?”

“Honestly?”

“Preferably, yes,” she said dryly.

“I think Miguel’s right,” Loup said. “Dr. Sheridan diagnosed me before we ever met. Everything she ever asked me was about violence and anger and hurting people. Did it say in the report that I’m a psychopath because I think scary movies are boring?”

The chairwoman hesitated. “Your lack of affect raised concern.”

“Hello?” Loup gestured at herself, the chain between her wrists rattling. “Can’t feel fear? It means I get bored watching scary movies, that’s all. I know the difference between fiction and reality. If you ask me, I think it’s weirder that normal people get off on being scared and watching imaginary characters get killed and tortured. Don’t you?”

She blinked. “Umm…”

“Look, I can’t help what I am. But it’s not this psychotic trait you’re trying to make it out to be. It’s more like a learning disability. We GMOs—” She made a face at the hated term. “We have to be taught how to recognize danger and avoid it. That’s it. That’s the main way we’re different from you. Why does it scare you so much?”

“Ms. Garron…” Marian Gallagher paused. “Because it’s unnatural.”

“Marian,” one of the other members began.

She raised her hand. “Let’s at least be honest here. I want her to respond.”

“I get it,” Loup said slowly. “But nature evolves, doesn’t it? Sometimes on its own and sometimes because we mess with it. That’s it, isn’t it? The thing Abernathy said to me about creators and created. You’re afraid if you let us live our lives, one day we’ll turn on you.”

The retired general scoffed. “All one hundred and twenty-eight of you?”

“I didn’t say it made sense. A lot of fear doesn’t. Maybe that’s easier to see from the outside.”

The chamber was quiet, digesting the comment. Tom Abernathy nodded to Loup.

“Look…” She struggled for words. “I don’t know what I can say to change your minds. If you believe the psychologists and decide to play it safe… I guess I’ll get sent back to that stupid cell to reread Great Expectations until I’ve memorized every line. Maybe you’ll find better doctors with better tests. Maybe the courts will decide in your favor and you’ll get all those documents you want. I bet when you review the service records of those hundred and twenty-seven guys, you’ll find out that they’re no more violent—”

Marian Gallagher’s eyes widened. “General Tansey,” she said, interrupting Loup. “The enlisted men’s service records. Are those actually classified?”

He shook his head. “No. Only their medical records. But the service records were requested as part and parcel of the classified materials documenting the GMO program, so it’s still tied up in court.”

“But we could file a separate request?”

“We could.”

“Interesting,” she mused. “If the records don’t show a disproportionate history of violence, that would certainly bear out Ms. Garron’s testimony.” She turned back to Loup. “Tell me, what would you do if the Human Rights Amendment was overturned and you were released from custody?”

Her eyes shone. “Seriously?”

The chairwoman smiled. “Seriously.”

“Are you kidding?” Loup laughed, giddy at the first ray of hope she’d felt in days. “God, I don’t even know! I can’t think past seeing Pilar.” She shivered with pleasure at the thought. “I hate seeing her so miserable, you know?”

“I do.” The chairwoman eyed her. “And I think I begin to understand that disconcertingly shiny look your friend Mr. Garza mentioned.” She glanced around the chamber. “Any further questions?”

Heads shook.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Garron. Mr. Abernathy will keep you informed.”

FORTY-EIGHT

It took two more weeks for the second dam to break.

Giddy hope gave way to resignation. Tom Abernathy came twice with nothing to report. Loup finished rereading Great Expectations for the third time. There was a change of rotation and the new guard on the day shift took pity on her and brought her a copy of Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men to exchange for her well-worn Dickens. She thanked him so profusely he blushed.

On Abernathy’s third visit, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“The commission’s report’s out.” He showed her a thick spiral-bound document. “They’re recommending repealing the Human Rights Amendment!”

“No!” She stared at him. “Seriously? You’re not kidding?”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t.”

“So what happens now?”

“Senator Ballantine’s introducing legislature today. They expect to vote on it within the week.”

“Will it pass?”

“I think so.” His grin was undiminished. “And the president has indicated he’ll sign it.”

Loup let out a whoop. “Then I get to go?”

Abernathy raised a cautionary finger. “There’s still the issue of the charges against you, three of which are valid. I’m pretty sure I can get the theft charge dismissed, but we’ll have to negotiate on the others. And that can’t happen until the amendment is repealed.”

“Shit.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m good at what I do.”

“What’s gonna happen to all the GMO soldiers when it happens?” she asked. “Will they be let go?”

“Some of them.” He hesitated. “My guess is that there’s going to be a general amnesty for all the enlisted personnel who submitted affidavits on the Outposts. There are just too many to prosecute and it’s a thorny issue. But those involved in helping you escape face more serious charges.”

“Is there anything you can do about it?”

“Maybe.” Abernathy smiled. “You want me to try?”

“Yeah, please!”

Another week passed.

The Human Rights Amendment was repealed by a wide margin.

Tom Abernathy showed up at the detention center with another wide grin, a box of chocolates, a copy of the Washington Post, and three paperback novels.

“I thought you weren’t allowed to give me anything,” Loup said, bewildered.

He pointed to the Post’s headline, which read THEY’RE PEOPLE LIKE US. “As of today, you have civil rights, Loup.”

“Can I talk to Pilar?”

Abernathy winced. “Not yet, I’m afraid. Military custody has its own rules.”

“Oh.”

“It won’t be long. I promise.” He opened his laptop. “I want to review the details of your original detention in Outpost. You were subjected to sleep deprivation and withholding of food?”

“Yeah. And hosing.”

“Walk me through it.”

She did.

It was another week before Abernathy returned. Loup read the Washington Post from cover to cover, marveling at the changes that had taken place while she’d been detained. She lingered over an article in the Entertainment section that quoted Kate’s manager as saying the band was poised to return to the States to celebrate their bodyguard’s freedom.

She allowed herself one chocolate a day, savoring the luxury.

The taste reminded her of eating pain au chocolat in Paris, and the wonder and delight on Pilar’s face.

The memory made her happy.

She finished Of Mice and Men and began reading one of the paperbacks Abernathy had brought her. She kept up her daily meditation, thinking about how Pilar would be proud of her. She shadowboxed and did push-ups and crunches until she was bored and wished she had a jump rope just to mix things up.

Abernathy came back, looking somber.

Her heart sank. “Well?”

“How do you feel about paying a fine?”

“A fine?” Loup asked. “For what?”

He began to smile. “Destruction of property. The Jeep’s windshield. Three thousand dollars and time served under extreme duress and dubious circumstances the government doesn’t wish made public, what with the harsh coercive techniques and all. How does that sound?”

She gaped. “Three thousand bucks?”

“Is it too much?” he asked. “It’s a lot for a windshield, I know. But from their perspective, it’s the point of the thing. There has to be a substantial fine.”

“No!” Loup leaped to her feet. “No, no, no! That’s all? It’s okay, it’s fine. I don’t care. We have money left from our signing bonuses and the deal with Kate and stuff. It’s just… that’s all? I can pay three thousand bucks and get out of here?”