Voices - Vornholt John (читать хорошую книгу .TXT) 📗

“What did you have in your bag?” asked Garibaldi.

Talia shook her head in desperation. “Just some notes and cards, a conference program, a data crystal—nothing unusual!”

“A bomb is highly unusual,” said the captain.

“I didn’t know it was there!”

Garibaldi held out his hands, trying to calm everyone and think at the same time. “There are a lot of things wrong with this,” he declared. “First of all, it was a very small, very sophisticated incendiary device. We think it was of alien design, because we don’t have anything that small that would do that kind of damage, and leave so little trace.”

“Secondly,” he continued, “just moments after the bombing, that Free Phobos group on Mars was claiming credit for it!” We hadn’t released a single word about it, yet some jokers on Mars acted like they had won the World Series. That’s the same group who claimed the hotel bombing last week. They must have known about it, but how?”

“I’m not a terrorist,” Talia insisted. “I don’t even have any connection with Mars!”

Sheridan held up a finger. “Ms. Winters, that’s not entirely true. While he was conscious, Mr. Bester gave us the rundown on Ted Hamilton, your uncle.”

“No!” The telepath balled her hands into fists and slumped onto her bed. It didn’t matter what she said—fate or some terrible power had beaten her to every signpost, turning every one of them to make her look guilty.

“Please,” said Ivanova, “there’s got to be some doubt in your minds! Had she died in the blast, you would have figured she was innocent. But since she had the misfortune to live, you think she’s guilty?”

The first officer continued, very calmly, “Most of us have worked with Ms. Winters for over a year now—has she ever given any indication that she hated Psi Corps enough to blow up a roomful of them? Now, if it had been Garibaldi or me …”

Sheridan cast her a stern glare. “Please, Commander, the well-known animosity of my staff toward Psi Corps isn’t helping matters.”

“But she’s right, Captain,” said Garibaldi. “If Ms. Winters had an uncle who was in the Mars resistance, you never would’ve known it from her. I never heard her talk about Mars.” He smiled at Talia. “Except once, when I asked her to do a favor for me.”

Sheridan scowled. “She wouldn’t necessarily broadcast the fact that she had an uncle who was a terrorist.”

“Okay,” said Garibaldi, “there’s one more thing that’s really strange. We’ve been over the conference room a hundred times, and we haven’t found any remains of a timer or trigger device. So there must’ve been a filament or some kind of microscopic fuse inside the charge, and they must’ve triggered it remotely. But Ms. Winters had only gotten about five meters beyond the room when it blew, and she didn’t have any devices on her. In other words, if she pushed the button, where’s the button?”

“I didn’t push any button!” moaned Talia.

Sheridan shrugged. “If I were the prosecutor on this, I could answer every one of these questions. The fact that this Martian organization already knew about the bombing shows that she had accomplices. So, she planted the bomb, and somebody else detonated it. Or she detonated it, and her accomplice took the device out of her hand while she was lying in the corridor.”

“I didn’t do it,” said Talia firmly. But nobody was listening to her. It was terrible the way they were talking about her as if she weren’t there. As if she were already dead!

Of course, five people were dead, she reminded herself. Five fellow telepaths. She should be out in the corridor, demanding for heads to roll, instead of sitting helplessly on her bed, waiting for her own head to roll. Not only was she in danger of being falsely accused and convicted, but the guilty party was getting away!

She jumped to her feet. “You’ve got to stop them!”

“Who?” asked Sheridan.

“Whoever killed those telepaths!”

“Okay, Ms. Winters,” said Sheridan calmly. “I’m getting the distinct impression that you plan to plead not guilty. Which is fine with me.”

Talia lifted her chin and asked, “Are you going to arrest me?”

“We have to,” answered the captain. “Everybody is fighting over jurisdiction of this case. If we don’t arrest you and have the ombuds try you here, then Bester, Earthforce, or somebody will take you away. If you think you’ll stand a better chance with them …”

“No!” snapped Ivanova. “If Psi Corps declares her to be a rogue telepath, they can deal with her however they please—without a trial. We can’t let them have her.”

Talia felt weak in the knees, and she sat down again. More than anything, she just wanted to crawl under her bedcovers and go back to sleep. There had to be some way to exit from this nightmare, if only she could think about it. If only she could remember everything. But it was all such a haze. She hadn’t felt right the entire morning, and she had barely said ten words to anybody. Her presence at that meeting had been superfluous, as Bester had claimed it was. No, that wasn’t it—he had called her a subterfuge.

Apparently, she was a better subterfuge than any of them had imagined. This was what she got for being ambitious and wanting to play with the big boys. She got used. Even now it seemed as if nobody—not her colleagues in the Corps or her neighbors on B5—really wanted to help her. They had their physical evidence and to hell with her! Somebody had to hang for this.

Talia had to flee from Babylon 5, she decided that moment, and find out who really did this.

“All right, it’s agreed,” said Garibaldi. “We’ll have to arrest you, Ms. Winters. But we’ll keep looking. I want to find that detonator, I want to know who’s on the station from Mars, and I need to talk to all my people who were doing security on Green-12. Maybe you did have an accomplice, even if you didn’t know about it.”

He looked around her crowded quarters. “Sorry, but we can’t leave you here, under house arrest. Bester’s people are irate about it, plus all they’re doing in the corridor is drawing flies. We’ll have to take you to the brig, where we have better control over the situation. I’ll give you five minutes to get dressed and pack a few things.”

“She’ll need a hearing before the ombuds to keep her in the brig,” said Ivanova.

“I’ll arrange it,” answered Sheridan. “You sound like her counsel.”

Ivanova nodded. “I am. Until I find her somebody better.” Sheridan rolled his eyes toward the heavens. “If you want me to say I was dead wrong about allowing the conference here, I will. I was dead wrong. Dumbest thing I ever did.”

Ivanova glanced at Garibaldi and said, “We know that. I’m still her counsel.”

The captain looked at the blond woman. “Is that all right with you?”

Talia nodded numbly.

“Come on, Ivanova,” said the captain, “and let’s get the paperwork started.”

They opened the door, and Sheridan and Ivanova battled their way into an angry crowd, filled with floating video recorders. Garibaldi stared at them until the door closed, and the muscles around his neck tightened.

“Oh, brother,” he moaned, “now the press has found us. Talia, what is this mess about? What happened?”

She shrugged and wearily shook her head.

“Who did you screw with?” he asked.

“Go away,” she said in a husky voice. “I don’t trust any of you. You know I didn’t do this, but you’re going to put me on trial!”

“That’s to keep you on the station, until we find out who did it!”

She sniffed and untied her robe. “Right, you can tell me that when I’m convicted of five murders. Or tell me that when you turn me over to Bester. Or maybe you think I want to spend the rest of my life as the most famous prisoner in the brig of Babylon 5. You can sell tickets—there she is, the Psi Cop Bomber.”

Garibaldi pointed at her and promised, “I’m going to find out who did this. You can bank on it.”

“Get the hell out of here and let me find my clothes.” The blond woman stood up and started to take off her robe, and Garibaldi hurried out.

“Doctor!” screamed a little man lying in the recovery room of a busy medlab. He started to thrash around in his bed, and then he winced and gasped from the pain.

“Doctor!” he cried through clenched teeth.

Dozing in the corner, Mr. Gray bolted to his feet and was the first one to the man’s side. “Please be calm, Mr. Bester. It’s wonderful to see you looking so … so awake, but you must remember your injuries.” He rearranged some of the tubes and sheets that covered Mr. Bester.

The Psi Cop slumped back onto the bed, grumbling.

“Yes,” said Gray, “your buttocks area was apparently very badly mangled, and the burns on your leg and arm—most unfortunate. Altogether, you were lucky.”

“I don’t feel so lucky,” muttered Bester.

Gray swallowed. “Yes, but look at the alternatives.” 

Bester laughed sourly. “They can’t get me so easily. Have they arrested Talia Winters yet?”

“Yes,” answered Gray, “the last I heard, they were taking her to the brig. You know, she never struck me as being the violent type. I would have thought she was on a career track. I wonder if she really …”

“Don’t wonder,” said Bester, followed by a coughing fit. “She brought that bomb into the room, I know it! It was no accident that she ran out when she did. But who put her up to it? I don’t know that.”

“The Free Phobos group is claiming responsibility.”

“I know,” growled Beater, “but who are they?”

Gray looked down apologetically. “The conference has officially disbanded. Transports are taking most of the attendees out tonight.”

“Damn,” muttered Bester. “They’ll get away.”

“Who will get away?”

“Whoever put Ms. Winters up to it!” snapped the Psi Cop. “She couldn’t have managed this by herself. Who is Free Phobos, and why do they want me out of the way?”

Gray cleared his throat. He wasn’t about to say what he was thinking, that the number of people who wanted Bester out of the way was too numerous to investigate.

“You’ve never heard of Free Phobos?” asked the young telepath.

“Not before the first bombing. And not again until this second one. I’ve had plenty of people looking for them, too.”

Bester grimaced in pain and tried to get comfortable in his hospital bed.

“Can I get anything for you, sir?” asked Gray with concern.

Through clenched teeth, Bester grunted, “Yes! Catch the bastards who did this to me! The ones who killed our people. You’re still attached to my office—that’s a direct order.”