"Initial sub-sequence complete." The synthesized feminine voice was sharper than the one at the Palace. "Remaining security sequence inaccessible by voice pattern verification alone. Identify and state authorization code."
"Possór, Derrick Seffan Linse. Authorization: 21266."
"Ready for random DNA cellular verification scan."
Derrick stood in position as a panel near the viewing screen slid away, revealing an instrument which extended toward him. "Commence," he instructed. A red beam projected from the device, scanning once up and down his body.
"Identity verified. Authorization accepted. Search is subject to HOPIS review only."
"Override security access and terminate link to the HOPIS computer, By My Command." Derrick walked to the console and sat down.
"Order is recognized and accepted. Ready for inquiry."
Derrick leaned back with his hands behind his head, reframing the search instructions he had worked out earlier that morning. "Search omnibus file of police, security and criminal investigative reports. Correlate possible references to the deaths of the four Imperial agents found in Kelton and named in the Imperial indictment against Lord Legan. Limit base references to a period variance of two weeks from the date of the reported disappearances."
"Fifty-three items are available to review."
Derrick lifted an eyebrow, having expected more. "Give me the names of all field agents and officers described on or near the relevant scenes."
"No such names are listed."
"Give me the names of the people filing the reports."
"No such names are listed. Document contents are classified."
"Override all security barriers, By My Command. Redo search."
"Order is recognized. No such names are listed."
Derrick pushed himself back in his chair with a huff, about to pursue another line of inquiry when he noticed an omission by the computer voice. "Was my security order accepted?"
"In part. All departmental security controls were lifted. Two personal codes remain."
"Whose are they?"
"Unable to identify."
"Can my Command order override the seal on these files?"
"Negative."
Derrick tossed his head back in frustration and spun in his chair. Pausing, he faced the computer's screen again. "Verify empowerments as heir to the count-grandee of Legan and Lord-Regent. Under the Command Protocols, can I do anything to unseal these protected files?"
"During the current legal incapacity of Lord Seffan Possór, as Lord-Regent, you have the executive authority to change the Master Override code."
Derrick smiled. "Do it."
"To engage reauthorization sequence, a computer-link with the House Possór Internal Security headquarters must be re-established."
"Great," Derrick muttered. He had known that while the Archives' computer network could function as a close-ended system, House Security could intercept anything he retrieved from Archives through the Palace terminals. That had been the very reason he had come to Archives. "Can a temporary link be established without revealing the specifics of my search?"
"Affirmative."
"Do it then."
-
"Sir," the man began. "I have an order coming in from an Archives computer to reauthorize the Master Override code."
"From the Count-Grandee?" the ranking duty officer asked, frowning in disbelief.
"No, Sir, from Lord Derrick."
The officer pursed his lips. "Get me the First Advisor," he ordered. As he waited, another man called for the officer's attention.
"Sir! Lord Derrick wishes to speak with you."
"He asked for me by name?" The senior officer furrowed his brow.
"He did, Sir.”
"Put him on the forward screen." The officer quickly turned back to the first man to whom he had spoken. "Inform the First Advisor of what is happening."
"Right away, Sir."
"Commander," Derrick began, now appearing before the duty officer. "Reauthorization of the Master Override code has not yet been accomplished. Is there a problem?"
"My lord," the man replied hurriedly, "we just received your request a moment ago."
Derrick’s left eye twitched, mimicking a mannerism of the Count-Grandee. The similarity was not lost on the officer. "I understand that, Commander," Derrick calmly breathed. "But is there a problem with you carrying out my order?"
The officer straightened. He was not a man easily intimidated, but he was presently at a loss on how to respond. "There shouldn't be, my Lord. I just need to contact—"
"You are aware, Commander, of the special authority granted to me in my father's last official decree, are you not?"
"Yes, my Lord." The commander swallowed, realizing that Derrick had no intention of waiting for him to confer with either the First Advisor or the Count-Grandee.
"Then with whom must you confirm my order?"
Still deeply conflicted, given the extraordinary nature of Derrick's order, the commander relented. "No one, my Lord."
"Good. Give the clearance code."
"My Lord—"
"Now, Commander."
The man took a deep breath and nodded. "At once, my Lord." Walking to his console, the HOPIS commander issued the proper commands. After entering the required alphanumeric sequences and voice authorizations, he returned to the screen. "My Lord, the reauthorization program has been keyed to accept your personal code from your computer at Archives."
"Thank you, Commander," Derrick said, signing off before the officer could make any further reply.
Derrick barely waited for the man's screen image to fade before resuming his search. "Computer, initiate security sequence for the Master Override code, set it to accept only—" he stopped, thinking better of his intention to change the entire code. "Correction: Amend it to include my personal Command order." As the computer complied, Derrick allowed himself a brief smile. He doubted his father would appreciate being locked out of his own files.
"Master Override accomplished."
"Redo prior search. Give me all of the names appearing on the protected files."
"Specify protected files."
The computer's unexpected response made Derrick's stomach constrict. "The protected files produced in my prior search," he replied hurriedly. "The ones I could not access."
"No such files can be found."
"What? What happened? Were they deleted?"
"There is no record. Files requested do not exist."
Derrick's thoughts whirled. "Disable all security file deletion functions, By My Command."
"Order recognized and accepted."
"Now, who exactly had access to those files?"
"There is no record."
"Who has engaged in a security file deletion within the last ten minutes?"
"There is no record."
"Who could have deleted a file previously protected against my Command code?"
"Only the Count-Grandee has a preemptive personal code. But it has been used to authorize a general security access code sequence."
Derrick was not sure what that meant. "Who has access to this code sequence?"
"A general security access code sequence is user-independent and can be utilized without an identification procedure." Derrick's face soured as the computer continued. "Access can be achieved by anyone with knowledge of the proper protocol and alphanumeric sequence."
"Damn!" cried Derrick, striking the console with his fist. "Can someone with this code continue to delete other files?"
"Yes, if the files are within the code's pre-set parameters."
"Modify the Master Access code to prohibit the deletion of files protected under my or my father's Command order. If anyone saves a file under that code sequence, I don’t want them to be able to delete it without being subject to a trace."
"Order accepted. The Master Access code has been modified."
Derrick pushed himself back in his chair, again feeling t
ired. Now what? Wearily he wondered if there was anything left for him to try. Soon another idea came to him. "In my omnibus search, were all of the Archive's files accessed?"
"Affirmative."
"Did the search include any secondary files of major documents?"
"Define ‘secondary files’."
"Supporting files, those containing backgrounds, drafts, unused exhibits—anything not officially part of the submitted documents."
"All such files were included in omnibus search."
Derrick wrinkled his nose, but had expected as much. Sitting with an elbow on the console and his forehead against an upturned palm, he saw a new possible angle. Leaning forward, he ran his hand through his hair. "Computer, search the duty rosters for police, security and intelligence personnel. Generate a list of people who were not on duty during the period determined as the probable time of death for the four Imperial agents."
"Ready."
"Are there any discrepancies with that list compared to a list of those filing reports during the same period?"
"Negative."
"Was there anyone on duty during that period who failed to make a daily report?"
"Negative."
"Were there any special assignments or transfers of more than, say, three people?"
"Specify time frame."
"Within two weeks following the first established time of death."
"Affirmative. Three special agents were transferred from a House Possór Internal Security field office near Landsig."
Landsig? Derrick knew Landsig to be a good distance away from Kelton, the place where the four bodies were found. "Were there any other subsequent transfers from that office?"
"Affirmative. Twenty-two transfers originated from the Landsig HOPIS office since the earliest estimated reference time of death."
Derrick inhaled at the large number. "How many of those were special agents?"
"Nine."
"Of the original special agents stationed in Landsig at the specified estimated time of death, how many are still there?"
"One."
Derrick’s eyebrows rose as he straightened in his chair. "Who ordered those transfers?"
"Permission for the transfer requests was granted by the former agent-in-charge."
"All eight of them asked to be transferred?"
"Yes."
"Give me a list of where each of these eight are stationed now."
"Unable to comply. None are currently active."
"What is their status?"
"Terminated with pensions provided for under Section 86(d) of the Government Employee Retirement Act."
"All eight were old enough to start collecting retirement pensions?"
"Negative. Five of the pensions are collected by spouses and/or former spouses. Two are being collected by guardians of minor children. One is now collected by a surviving parent."
Derrick felt his stomach slip into his lap. "What type of pension does Section 86(d) provide?" he whispered.
"Death in the line of duty."
-
"My Lord!" the security captain began as Derrick stormed through the doorway. "First Advisor Henely has been trying to reach you. He says that it's imperative he speak with you."
"Tell him I’m busy," Derrick growled, not bothering to slow down for his escort as he made his way through the hall.
---
Having found an emergency plug-in computer terminal, one reserved to bypass the first level user-interface system if audio recognition failed, Henely sat alone in an unused office, cursing Derrick as he furiously stabbed at the keys of the unit’s second level interface. Not only had Derrick accessed protected files, Henely's security contacts could not even identify which ones they were. He was thus compelled to frantically delete complete subdirectories as best he could, hoping that time and luck would prevent Derrick from finding anything compromising.
"Sir," a voice came in over a small portable com-link.
"What?" said the First Advisor, still removing possible evidence against him.
"You wanted updates on Lord Derrick's whereabouts?"
Henely wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Well?"
"He has just left the Government Archives building."
Lousin Henely paused but the aide did not continue. "So where is he headed now?"
"No one knows, Sir."
"What was that?" Henely's tone was one of warning.
"His shuttle is being monitored, but he refuses to give a destination. Air Control is treating it as an emergency flight and clearing all traffic along his projected path."
Henely gazed heavenward. "And using that projection, what is the current best guess?"
"Several possibilities exist, Sir: Faredin, Kelawan, Landsig—"
"Contact Colonel Steuben at the Reonom Presidio," the First Advisor interrupted. "Inform him of the situation with Air Control and the probable cities affected."
"Yes, Sir. It that all, Sir?"
"Yes, that’s all!" Henely yelled, breaking off the com-link.
How did Derrick find our trail? Henely wondered, expecting that the prosecution would now have one less potential witness to "discover" at trial: The one witness that the Soror could have read through to sink Seffan’s defense case. Still, there was nothing for it. Seffan had ordered the death of everyone involved lacking adequate protective psychic training. One of the eight agents being "mistakenly" overlooked was all that Henely could have safely dared.
Damnation. If Seffan finds out... The thought remained unfinished as Henely returned to his file deletions with renewed urgency.
Steuben will know what to do, the First Advisor said to himself. It was just a matter of him beating Derrick to the surviving witness. Henely was not sure he could however, and almost wished Guerren Andior had taken possession of the planet after the deaths of Burin and his family. Asking the Imperials for a flight clearance would have at least slowed Derrick down.
Finally the First Advisor completed his work. Circumventing the security-controls protecting the Archives' read-only memory access system was not easy, particularly if one wanted to keep the chance of detection to a minimum. Despite the complications however, he was grateful that Derrick, as heir to the throne of Legan, had only a limited understanding of how such information was stored, and how a bar against deletions did not always bar modifications.
---
Vaid Ketrick’s noble rank alone would have entitled him to closer seating. Nonetheless, for the funeral service of one of the DuCideon Brotherhood’s many spies, he sat in the back of the cathedral. The reason was simple: He was having trouble keeping his eyes open.
Since Seffan Possór’s indictment was announced, Ketrick had put increasing effort into capitalizing on any opportunities the situation presented. Much of that had been laying the groundwork for Duke Burin to take the crown, should his brother fall. Burin’s unexpected death had forced him to pursue alternate plans, all while negating NDB influence in DuCideon operations and countering actions by the Consortium. Doing so had pushed him to exhaustion.
Strange, he thought, his gaze drifting from the high altar to the various side chapels, niches and stained-glass windows. When he first arrived, Ketrick could hardly sit still, anxious to speak with his Consortium counterpart. Forced to sit quietly, however, surrounded by people mourning a man they really knew little about, his weariness had caught up with him.
Not wanting to feel edgy, Ketrick resisted the urge to take another stimulant, distracting himself by following the music of Morodin’s Requiem. This would be over soon enough. And Morodin’s work was unquestionably beautiful. He then caught the late entry of choir’s bass section on their “Dies Irae.” Buffae bassi, thought the former tenor.
“Good afternoon, my Lord,” a voice came from behind him.
Ketrick turned, irritated that Tenatte could move in close without him sensing the man’s presence. “Tenatte.”
“Are we in the correct spot?” Tenatte asked. “There are s
o many different customs here. Let me see. In this church, on Legan, the left side is meant for friends and family who miss the guy. The right side is for business associates and others who are glad he’s dead. Is that right?”
“No,” Ketrick corrected. “Here, the front is for family and professional mourners. Then come the dignitaries, friends, lovers, mistresses, illegitimate children and then the business associates who are glad the sonofabitch is dead.”
“I suppose I’m in the right spot then.” Tenatte cleared his throat. “Shame. Some of those mistresses a couple rows up are probably looking for a new employer.”
“I missed you at Duke Burin’s funeral,” Ketrick said, using the Disciplines to temporarily boost his state of wakefulness. Best not to let his fatigue give Tenatte too much of an advantage.
“I was doing my hair. Besides, I didn’t know we had a date.”
“Come, come, Anios. We had an understanding regarding Burin.”
“Tut, tut, Vaid. We both know it was Seffan who ordered his family tree to be pruned.”
“So you had nothing to do with it?” Ketrick smirked and leaned back in his chair.
“We are innocent.”
“Right. Tell that to the stiff-in-the-box over there. I heard you did him personally.”
“I can’t abide a man who doesn’t take care of his teeth.” Tenatte flashed Ketrick a perfectly formed smile.
“Yes, well he was rather careless to put them in the way of that sledgehammer you liberated them with,” Ketrick admitted. “How did you catch him?”
“We left a trail of false information and watched what happened. I hope you didn’t lose too much buying that Wychcor stock, by the way.”
“Some investments pay, others do not, but overall we did well.”
“You must regret the recent loss of your financial advisor then.” Tenatte tilted his head toward the coffin of the murdered spy.
“He was insured. What about you? Are you happy with your recent acquisitions?”
“They were more expensive than projected, but we got what we wanted. And future transactions should be less burdened by outside interference. Lord Jordan is even joining us on some deals, convinced that it’s better to run with the real money-movers than to just ride their coattails. What percentage did he have on your deals anyway?”
House of Jackals Page 31
