"Michael Z. Williamson - Freehold" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williamson Michael Z)

Just before she reached the door, Janie came out of the back office. "Kendra, can you—"

"Sorry," Kendra replied, waving the folder, "I've gotta take care of this for the lieutenant right now." The
old trick of looking busy had always seemed rather shallow before. It now had a whole new meaning.
She stepped outside, whipped her hat on and tried to walk slowly to her car, as if she were running an
errand. Unlocking it, she climbed in and discovered an overnight bag on the passenger seat. As she
started the engine, she glanced in. Street clothes, socks, shoes, underwear and some cash cards. Tom
must have used a security code to override her dorm room lock. She hoped that wasn't traceable, but he
was good at such things. That had made her nervous, when she discovered he could crack codes and
bypass records. Now she thanked Tom silently while backing out carefully. A wreck now would really
be hell. Could this really be happening? She had to believe him, but it seemed so unreal.
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The UN Bureau of Security was not known for its polite inquiries into alleged crimes. If they believed a
person was involved with "improper activity" or "activity prejudicial to the public good," they proceeded
to investigate thoroughly. The accused was held incommunicado, all assets seized and in-depth interviews
conducted with the accused and any family or friends who might be involved. If they suspected any
dissemblance, they could always revert to the clauses that gave them authority to hold the accused until
they were satisfied. There were also numerous rarely enforced laws they could invoke to continue their
efforts. The story was that they only used those tactics against someone they couldn't prosecute any other
way, but Kendra had recently come to believe, in part due to vids Tom had shown her, that those tactics
were unfair and designed to make the prosecutors look good, not do justice to the accused. She'd been
creeped enough by his near-sedition to stop seeing him. There were enough antigovernment activists in
America now without having to deal with out-and-out traitors.

It had a whole new feel now, she reflected briefly as she drove out of the logistics zone of the sprawling
base. They thoughtshe was guilty. Several tens of millions of marks worth of property had gone missing
during the Mtali mission. She'd done the file search, at the request of the chain of command, to determine
how much. That was the total extent of her involvement. She knew she was innocent and they couldn't
prove otherwise . . . or could they? "The wicked flee when no man pursueth" didn't apply when
circumstances dictated that both guilty and innocent alike should wisely flee for their lives. She shivered
slightly. Did she really want to leave? Wouldn't it be better to trust in her innocence? Where could she
go?

She aged ten years in the six blocks to the gate, then relaxed very slightly when she saw Tom in the
booth.What is he getting himself into? she asked herself. The traffic control outside the gate signaled a
stop and she aged ten more years. Behind her, she could see the barricades rising and swallowed hard.
That made it rather permanent, she thought. She picked a route north into Maryland and kept the car on
manual. She didn't know how long it would be before an override signal got her. She'd have to lose the
car. She had no idea how, or where to go after that. Off planet, maybe? The Orbitals were not as strict
on ID, but fleeing criminals were captured regularly. Outsystem? But where? Ramadan was not friendly
to unescorted women, Novaja Rossia demanded strict qualifications and background checks, Caledonia
was a UN nation . . .

Counting the cash in her bag, she found a thousand marks in three money cards and cash and a note
scrawled, "All I can spare. Hate to see you get driven like this. I disabled your override circuit, so don't