By this time Robbins, alerted by Mattson’s secretary, had entered the room. Mattson twisted uncomfortably. “Listen,” Mattson said. “Boutin was a top-flight mind, but he was a goddamned flake. Especially after his wife died. Cheryl was a heat sink for the man’s eccentricities; she kept him on an even keel. Once she was gone he became erratic, particularly where his daughter was involved.”
Jared opened his mouth; Mattson held up a hand. “I’m not blaming him, Private,” Mattson said. “His wife was dead, he had a little girl, he was worried about her. I was a parent too. I remember what it’s like. But that topped with his own organizational issues created problems. He was behind on his projects as it was. It’s one of the reasons I brought him back here for the testing phase. I wanted him to be able to get work done and not be distracted. And it worked; we finished testing ahead of schedule and things went so well that I gave the go-ahead to have him bumped up to the director level, which was something I wouldn’t have done before the test phase. He was on his way back to Covell when it was attacked.”
“He thought you turned down his request because you’re a pissant tyrant,” Jared said.
“Well, of course he did,” Mattson said. “That’s Boutin all over. Look, he and I never got along. Our personalities didn’t mesh. He was high maintenance, and if it weren’t for the fact he was a fucking genius, he wouldn’t have been worth the trouble. He resented the fact that I or one of my people was always looking over his shoulder. He resented having to explain and justify his work. And he resented that I didn’t give a shit if he resented it. I’m not surprised he thought it was just me being petty.”
“And you’re saying it wasn’t,” Jared said.
“It wasn’t,” Mattson said, and then threw up his hands when Jared gave him a skeptical look. “Okay. Look. Perhaps our history of bad blood played a small role. Maybe I was less willing to cut him a break than I would be someone else. Fine. But my main concern was getting work out of him. And I did promote the son of a bitch.”
“But he never forgave you for what happened to Zo?,” Jared said.
“Do you think I wanted his little girl dead, Private?” Mattson said. “Do you think that I wasn’t aware that if I had just said yes to his request, she’d be alive now? Christ. I don’t blame Boutin for hating me after that. I didn’t intend for Zo? Boutin to die, but I accept I bear a part of the responsibility for the fact she is dead. I said as much to Boutin himself. See if that is in your memories.”
It was. Jared saw in his mind Mattson approaching him in his lab, awkwardly offering his condolences and sympathy. Jared recalled how appalled he felt at the fumbled words, and their implicit suggestion that Mattson should be absolved of the death of his child. He felt some of the cold rage wash over him now, and had to remind himself that the memories he was feeling were from another person, about a child who was not his own.
“He didn’t accept your apology,” Jared said.
“I’m aware of that, Private,” Mattson said, and sat there for a moment before he spoke up again. “So, who are you now?” he asked. “It’s clear you have Boutin’s memories. Are you him now? In your gut, I mean.”
“I’m still me,” Jared said. “I’m still Jared Dirac. But I feel what Charles Boutin felt. I understand what he did.”
Robbins spoke up. “You understand what he did,” he repeated. “Does that mean you agree with it?”
“His treason?” Jared asked. Robbins nodded. “No. I can feel what he felt. I feel how angry he was. I feel how he missed his daughter. But I don’t know how he got from there to turning on all of us.”
“You can’t feel it, or you don’t remember it?” Robbins asked.
“Both,” Jared said. More memory was returning after his epiphany at Covell, specific incidents and data from all parts of Boutin’s life. Jared could sense that whatever happened there had changed him and made him more fertile ground for Boutin’s life. But the gaps were still there. Jared had to keep himself from worrying about them. “Maybe more will come the more I think about it,” he said. “But right now I’ve got nothing on that.”
“But you know where he is now,” Mattson said, bringing Jared back from his reverie. “Boutin. You know where he is.”
“I know where he was,” Jared said. “Or at least I know where he was going when he left.” The name was clear in Jared’s brain; Boutin had focused on the name like a talisman, burning it indelibly into memory. “He went to Arist.”
There was a brief moment while Mattson and Robbins accessed their BrainPals for information on Arist. “Well, crap,” Mattson said, eventually.