"Simona--"
She cut him off, her voice like a dagger. "Do. Not. Speak to me." She was crying. There was a crack in her voice. She didn't look at him. "Say one more word, one word, and I will scream rape and tell Charles to pull over and knock your teeth out. And don't think he won't. Charles knows who signs the checks."
She spat out the last words like venom.
Lem said nothing, not because he thought she'd make a scene, but because whatever he said would only make it worse.
They rode in silence for another minute. When they stopped, Charles, the driver, got out and opened the door for them. Simona exited first, then Lem.
An iron grip seized Lem by the forearm and suddenly Charles was at his ear, whispering. "She doesn't have to tell me to knock your teeth out, amigo. I'll do it because I want to. Make her cry again and see if I don't."
The man's viselike grip released, and Charles casually got into the shuttle and drove away. Lem watched him go, rubbing his forearm.
Fingers snapped behind him, and Lem turned. Simona was at the double doors, holding them open. "Your father is waiting, Lem."
She was her old self again, all business, perfectly poised, showing no sign of having just shed a tear. He followed her into a lobby. Lem didn't know the place, but it didn't look particularly special. Everything seemed dated, in fact. Old furniture. Old decor. An empty receptionist desk. Even the paintings on the walls were from ten years ago.
"Time for an upgrade, wouldn't you say?" Lem said. "This place is like a museum."
Simona didn't reply. She approached a door, and it unlocked automatically. When she pulled it open, it was thick and heavy like a bank vault. They stepped into a pristine white corridor, and Simona pulled the door closed behind them with an echoing clang.
"Okay. I'll bite," Lem said. "Where are we?"
"A place that doesn't exist," said Simona. She started walking briskly, and Lem had to hurry to keep up.
"That's a little cryptic. What is this nonexistent place?"
She didn't look at him. "Are you prepared to sign a nondisclosure agreement?"
"I signed one of those when I joined the company."
"This is different. This is special. You'll sign or you won't leave this facility."
He laughed. "Well now. There's a threat. Is there a dungeon in here for people who refuse? I've always suspected Father had a dungeon. Stone walls; rusty shackles; long-haired, toothless crazy old men as cellmates."
She didn't look at him or so much as crack a smile.
They walked in silence a moment. Whatever working relationship they had developed since his return from the Kuiper Belt was gone now. He could see that. He had shattered that in the car.
He cleared his throat and lost the flippant tone. "I'll sign whatever you want me to sign."
She stopped, faced him, and held out her holopad. It was a white screen with a black line at the bottom.
"What, now?" he said.
"Just sign it."
"I don't know what I'm signing."
"The document is two hundred and eighty pages long. Shall we have a seat on the floor so you can read all the legal language you don't understand?"
He let the insult pass. He probably deserved it. "In a sentence can you at least tell me what I'm signing?"
"And you'll believe me?"
"I was an ass to you in the car, so you certainly have every right to screw me over right now. But I also know that you're a good person with a conscience. Yes, I trust you."
She brushed the hair out of her face. "Is that an apology?"