His terminal buzzed, and he got a short text message from Avasarala. It said ON OUR WAY.
Less than five minutes later, Jules-Pierre Mao climbed off an elevator into the corridor, flanked by two of the largest military police officers Holden had ever seen. Mao had his hands cuffed in front of him. Even wearing a prisoner’s jumpsuit, hands in restraints, and with armed guards escorting him, he managed to look arrogant and in control. As they approached, Holden stood up straight and stepped in their way. One of the MPs yanked on Mao’s arm to stop him and gave Holden a subtle nod. It seemed to say, I’m down for whatever with this guy. Holden had a sense that if he yanked a pistol out of his pants and shot Mao right there in the corridor, the two MPs would discover they had both been struck with blindness at the same moment and failed to see anything.
But he didn’t want to shoot Mao. He wanted what he always seemed to want in these situations. He wanted to know why.
“Was it worth it?”
Even though they were the same height, Mao managed to frown down at him. “You are?”
“Awww, come on,” Holden said with a grin. “You know me. I’m James Holden. I helped bring down your pals at Protogen, and now I’m about to finish that job with you. I’m also the one that found your daughter after the protomolecule had killed her. So I’ll ask again: Was it worth it?”
Mao didn’t answer.
“A dead daughter, a company in ruins, millions of people slaughtered, a solar system that will probably never have peaceful stability again. Was it worth it?”
“Why are you here?” Mao finally asked. He looked smaller when he said it. He wouldn’t make eye contact.
“I was there, in the room, when Dresden got his and I’m the man who killed your pet admiral. I just feel like there’s this wonderful symmetry in being there when you get yours.”
“Antony Dresden,” Mao said, “was shot in the head three times execution style. Is that what passes for justice with you?”
Holden laughed. “Oh, I doubt Chrisjen Avasarala is going to shoot you in the face. Do you think what’s coming will be better?”
Mao didn’t reply, and Holden looked at the MP and gestured toward the conference room door. They almost looked disappointed as they pushed Mao into the room and attached his restraints to a chair.
“We’ll be waiting out here, sir, if you need us,” the larger of the two MPs said. They took up flanking positions next to the door.
Holden went into the conference room and took a chair, but he didn’t say anything else to Mao. A few moments later, Avasarala shuffled into the room, talking on her hand terminal.
“I don’t give a fuck whose birthday it is, you make this happen before my meeting is over or I’ll have your nuts as paperweights.” She paused as the person on the other end said something. She grinned at Mao and said, “Well, go fast, because I have a feeling my meeting will be short. Good talking to you.”
She sank into a chair directly across the table from Mao. She didn’t look at Holden or acknowledge him at all. He suspected that the record would never reflect his presence in the room. Avasarala put her terminal on the tabletop and leaned back in her chair. She didn’t speak for several tense seconds. When she did, it was to Holden. She still didn’t look at him.
“You’ve gotten paid for hauling me back here?”
“Payment’s cleared,” Holden said.
“That’s good. I wanted to ask you about a longer-term contract. It would be civilian, of course, but—”
Mao cleared his throat. Avasarala smiled at him.
“I know you’re there. I’ll be right with you.”
“I’ve already got a contract,” Holden said. “We’re escorting the first reconstruction flotilla to Ganymede. And after that, I’m thinking we’ll probably be able to get another escort gig from there. Still a lot of people relocating who’d rather not get stopped by pirates along the way.”
“You’re sure?”
Mao’s face was white with humiliation. Holden let himself enjoy it.
“I’ve just gotten done working for a government,” Holden said. “I didn’t wear it well.”
“Oh please. You worked for the OPA. That’s not a government, it’s a rugby scrum with a currency. Yes, Jules, what is it? You need to go to the potty?”
“This is beneath you,” Mao said. “I didn’t come here to be insulted.”
Avasarala’s smile was incandescent.
“You’re sure about that? Let me ask, do you remember what I said the first time we met?”
“You asked me to tell you about any involvement I might have had with the protomolecule project run by Protogen.”
“No,” Avasarala replied. “I mean, yes, I did ask that. But that’s not the part that you should be caring about right now. You lied to me. Your involvement with weaponizing the Protogen project is fully exposed, and that question is like asking what color Tuesday was. It’s meaningless.”