The Two Fangs

Chapter 16

Valle would have expected that the house at the address on Eckhart Walter's OSA profile would be on high alert, barricaded and blocked off by an Aequitas force, probably with subtle Veritas support. Or else deserted, its owner drawn into the government's protective grasp. He saw some small guard activity, which he and Grid easily evaded. The Aequitas soldiers manned their posts halfheartedly, and the garden that dominated the lawn of the second-platter home in the western Ural dome gave them plenty of cover. If there was to be word of high alert, it hadn't reached this councillor's estate yet.

If this was the house they had lived in for that single, all-important year, Valle didn't recognize it from the outside. The dark wooden siding might be familiar, the scent of the garden. That was a last shred of hope he could grasp, that he was mistaken, and Eckhart Carol was not Mister. When Grid pounded on the door while Valle stayed out of range of any cameras, that shred vanished.

Mr. Walter answered the door dressed in an apron and soil-stained gloves. He looked pleasantly but blankly at the unfamiliar buteo zoan at his door, until Valle emerged from behind a pillar to shove him back into the landing, one hand clamped over his mouth.

This in here, this space was familiar. Valle took only a moment to glance at his surroundings, before his eyes slid back to the human. He took his hand away, but kept the other braced against Walter's neck, prepared to pierce it.

"What is this?" Mr. Walter demanded.

"It's a -" Grid began, but Valle hushed her. He stared, gave Mr. Walter ample time to remember.

The frightened but friendly eyes widened.

"Valle!" His voice was pleased at first, but it was only a moment before he recognized what this visit must mean.

Valle let him loose and shoved him into the den, where two couches faced each other, while Grid closed the curtains over the very familiar bay window. He sat across from the old man, pushed the coffee table out of the way.

There was a long silence. The old human dispensed with any pretense and waited for Valle to open, while Grid searched the room for weapons or cameras.

"It's been twenty-six years," Valle said.

"It has." Mr. Walter's eyes were steely, but a tremble in his jaw belied his demeanor.

"Do you remember the first book you read to us?"

"It was Doctor Seuss."

Valle nodded. He produced the broken visor, held it idly, where Mr. Walter could see the bullet. It didn't elicit a response.

"I still see Crucis every now and then. He's very different now. But I guess you must see him a lot."

"I don't," Mr. Walter swallowed. "We use code names, so I don't have to hear it's him."

"But who else would it be? He has such a specific application. That's what you developed us for."

Jaw trembling, Mr. Walter looked around as if for help.

"I was tasked with finding candidates," he said, when he found he had no allies present. "and monitoring, and reporting. You were unattached, and undocumented. You were a zoan model that carries appropriate connotations. And twins - either a second equal instrument, or..."

"Or one could be used to fine tune the other."

Gloved hands spread, helpless.

"Nothing was insincere," he continued. "You were my sons. I took care of you exactly like I did my own son. And I didn't love you any less."