Asimov's Science Fiction: April/May 2014 Read Free

holding him?"
    "The same reason they'll be holding those poor sons of bitches in Guantanamo for another twenty years."
    He nodded, recalling images of cage-like enclosures and kneeling men. "You've been here how long?"
    "Nearly two years. The past six months, holding just one man." She swirled the glass as if it held ice, or two substances in need of mixing, and set to gazing on the landscape again.
    Jimmy took in the nothing that lay beyond Perilous Base. Twice on the road from the airport, the high-riding car had passed ground-level signs that identified the Texas landscape on either side as a nature refuge, but from Jimmy's perspective, attempts at preserving anything living had failed. A few weeds, an uninviting blank stretch of charmless, lumpy tan: perhaps there was life there that couldn't be seen, below the surface. Or, as he remembered from some grade school lesson, maybe rains visited this dry country one week out of the year, causing flash floods, filling every culvert and ditch, causing the colorless vista to blossom in yellows and reds. What did he know of this part of the world?
    Jimmy had imagined the Hummer as if from above, animated, a red line reaching forward toward a set of small cubes set on the desert floor. And then exactly that appeared ahead of him, two-story buildings the color of the earth, surrounded by tiers of wire, and he sucked his upper lip, wondering if the confirmation of his mental picture was another manifestation of his abilities. He'd have to record it in his journal, himself an experiment on which he kept a close watch.
    Jimmy said, "Can you tell me anything that isn't in the files?"
    "The files," scoffed Weston. "I've never seen records like that. All the standard papers are missing. He might be a foreign national, for all we know. Rumors and adventure stories going back to the 1920s. Supposedly, the man has operatives and contacts everywhere. Either someone is withholding what's known about him, or he has friends who've covered his tracks. Or both." Her gaze wandered. "What's not in the files," she mused. "Well, he's scared of dogs."
    "You've got dogs here?"
    "The BrightLine people train them here. They've got their own yard for it. That deal was done before I arrived. There used to be MPs with dogs. One day—so the story goes—he was being taken to the yard when the dogs were in the corridor and the dogs spooked him. Shook him up." She paused, waving a finger as she thought of what she might have left out. "Ah. Covey is head of the security people, and for the time being, he reports directly to me." She raised and lowered her head, overemphasizing her visual evaluation of Jimmy. "I assume you're some kind of last-ditch effort."
    "That's how I think of it, too, ma'am."
    "Let me tell you how this is going to work. No materials of any kind are allowed in there, except what goes in with his meals, and we get that back. We keep every possible tool or weapon away from him; about the only reliable intel is that he's an expert in everything—if you believe some of the anecdotes, the guy can make a black hole in a lab or turn a piece of lint into a concussion grenade. If I could send you in there naked, I would. You'll have two guards with you until he's secured. Then we'll keep an eye on you from next door."
    "There's a separate viewing room, is that right?"
    "That's right."
    "Well, I won't be in the room with him for this... procedure. I'll be in the next room. I won't interact with him."
    Jimmy watched her turn this over—squinting with one eye, then sitting on the corner of her desk. "Aw, nuts," she said. "Spooky stuff?"
    "Ah..."
    "You gonna tell me what I'm thinking, Lieutenant?"
    "No, ma'am. It's not like that. I won't read his mind." As convincingly as possible, he said, "I'm going to realign his will."
    He could tell she thought of asking what that phrase might mean, but elected to move on. "And you've had success with this approach?"
    "I can't really discuss—" he began, but