Stations of the Tide - Michael Swanwick [50]
“He said he was examining me for spiritual influences.”
“Exactly, and this distorted your response. Had you seen this trick performed on a stage, it would have seemed difficult, but not baffling. Knowing that it was a trick, your mind would have been engaged in the problem of solving it. Meaning, however, diverts the mind from the challenge, and the puzzle becomes secondary to the mystery. You were so distracted by the impossibility of what you saw that the question became not, how did he do that? but rather, did I see that?”
“Oh.”
“Will that be all, sir?”
“No. I need to know exactly what a magician on the Tidewater can and cannot do—his skills, abilities, whatever you call them. Something simple, succinct, and comprehensive.”
“We have nothing like that.”
“Don’t give me that. There was outright rebellion in White-marsh not a lifetime ago. We must have had agents there. Reports, councils, conclusions.”
“Yes, of course. On our closed shelves.”
“Damn it, I have a very serious need for that information.”
The goat’s head shook itself dolorously and spread its gloves wide. “I can do nothing for you. Apply to the agency that suppressed it.”
“Who was that?”
A glove floated down to light a slim white candle. It drew a sheet of paper from a drawer and held it over the clear flame. Sooty letters appeared on the paper. “The order of restraint came from the Division of Technology Transfer.”
* * *
The information stream ended. As he handed his briefcase the phone, the bureaucrat could hear the last of his agent unraveling itself back into oblivion.
“I suppose what disturbs us all,” Philippe said, “is the public nature of your statements. The Stone House is furious with us, you know. They’re simply livid. We have to provide them with some coherent explanation for your actions.”
Muschg’s briefcase whispered in her ear, and she said, “Tell us about this native woman you became involved with.”
“Well.” Philippe and Korda looked as bemused as the bureaucrat felt; intentionally or not, Muschg was driving the three of them closer together. “Sometimes fieldwork gets complicated. If we tried to play it by the book, nothing would get done. That’s why we have field operations—because book methods have failed.”
“What was your involvement with her?”
“I was involved,” the bureaucrat admitted. “There was an emotional component to our relationship.”
“And then Gregorian killed her.”
“Yes.”
“In order to trick you into making angry statements he could use in his commercials.”
“Apparently so.”
Muschg leaned back, eyebrows raised skeptically. “You see our problem,” Philippe said. “It sounds a highly unlikely scenario.”
“This case grows murkier the longer we look at it,” Korda grumbled. “I can’t help but wonder if a probe might not be called for.”
A tense wariness took the group. The bureaucrat met their eyes and smiled thoughtfully. “Yes,” he agreed. “A full departmental probe might be just the thing to settle matters once and for all.”
The others stirred uneasily, doubtless mindful of all the dirty little secrets that accreted to one in the Puzzle Palace, did anyhow if one tried to accomplish anything at all, things no one would care to see come to light. Orimoto’s face in particular was as tightly clenched as a fist. Korda cleared his throat. “This is after all just an informal hearing,” he said.
“Let’s not reject this too hastily; it’s an option we should explore,” the bureaucrat said. His briefcase handed around copies of the bottle shop’s list of suppressed materials. “There’s a preponderance of evidence that someone within the Division is cooperating with Gregorian.” He began ticking off points on his fingers. “Item: Evidence important to this case has been suppressed