He ordered coffee and sandwiches, while I stared sullenly at the blue sky.
Abraham handed me my share. Even though I didn’t think I was hungry, the coffee was a welcome warmth.
He took a drink, unwrapped the paper off the sandwich, took a bite, and then drove back out onto the freeway to the speed-tube ramp.
“Eat something, Matilda. It will help.”
I took a drink of coffee and leaned my aching head on the headrest. I’d stopped bleeding, so that was something at least.
Neds had said that Robert wasn’t Robert. I’d sort of lost track of that, what with all the gunfire and wrestling and judgment.
“Is Robert always like that?” I asked after I gave in and took a bite of the sandwich.
“No.”
“Neds said that Robert wasn’t Robert.”
“What?”
I shrugged. “It’s what he said. Robert didn’t seem to recognize Neds, even though they met in the garage. And when Robert first came to the house, he didn’t seem happy to see you. He was so much more . . . formal and annoyed about everything. Could he somehow not be himself?”
Abraham pulled the car into a transfer pod, tapped in our information, destination, and fee.
“He’s been under a lot of pressure,” Abraham said. “House Orange is a difficult station to hold. But there was no reason to bring a gun to the house. You didn’t know that, but he did. Galvanized don’t need guns to settle conflicts.”
“Maybe he heard or saw Neds outside my window?”
He shook his head. “Still no need for a gun.”
“You told me once that scientists and researchers have done experiments on galvanized. And even . . . tortured.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think someone did something to him? To Robert?”
“No. Not even Slater Orange is that vile. And if anything had happened to Robert against his will, if he had suffered any harm, he would have rights to abandon House Orange. The only time a head of House can physically harm a galvanized is if he or she fears for his or her life, and then the head will use the Shelley dust.”
“So he was just being an ass.”
“It appears so.”
Apingon the dash rang out, and he tapped the screen.
“Welton is patching in the security cameras around the town, and”—he touched the corner of the screen—“around the nearest cities, especially the speed-tube exits. Since we have another couple hours to blow before we get back to Chicago, we might as well look through the feeds.”
I wadded up the sandwich paper, a little surprised that I’d eaten the whole thing. If someone asked me what kind of a sandwich it was, I wouldn’t be able to say, but my stomach was settled and my coffee was still hot.
“At least it will make me feel like I’m doing something,” I said.
He keyed up the multiple feeds, and we didn’t talk much, watching more than a hundred screens sort and sift through images. If Neds went anywhere near a camera, we’d see him. A two-headed man wasn’t such a common sight that we’d mistake him for another.
The hour rolled by, and then the second.
No Neds.
Abraham paused the feed.
“I thought Welton’s cameras were everywhere,” I said.
