“Still seems the same to me.”
“It’s more polite to say ‘may’ when you’re asking for something.”
The child was fast losing patience. “Does this, like, matter?”
“In certain circumstances, yes, it matters very much. And yes, we will go in just a minute.” Richard turned to Weber. “What are your plans?”
“Thought I’d say hi to the ex while I’m in town. Catch up with a few folks at the APD. If that’s okay? Or do you want me heading back to Kenya right away?”
Not ever was the rather desperate wish. Richard pushed it away. “Take a few days.” Richard smiled and cringed when he found himself adding, “It’s nice having you around.”
Mosi skipped a few steps as they walked through the dining room, living room, and over to the elevator. Richard hit the button for the basement, one level below the parking garage. As they rode down, Mosi leaned against the far wall, hands thrust into her pockets, staring at him.
“What do I call you?”
“Richard’s fine.”
“Auntie said you were going to be my guard … guardian.”
“That’s right.”
“What’s a guardian? What does that mean?”
“I’m going to look out for you.”
A flash of the fear showed. “Protect me?”
“Yes. Always.”
She nodded. The elevator came to rest with a sigh and gentle bounce. Mosi stepped out. She cocked her head, looked up at Richard. “That makes you my na sha dii.”
“What does that mean?”
“Protector.”
“I like that. And you can still call me Richard.”
They walked through the blue-tiled archway, and Mosi gasped when she saw the swimming pool. The soft lights in the water cast an aqua hue over the beautiful tilework. The fluted columns supporting the roof and the decorated tiles gave it the feel of a Roman bath. Steam waved in a white pennant over the hot tub.
She turned back to Richard. “This is yours?”
“Yes … well, Lumina’s.”
“Can I swim in it?”
“May I,” he corrected. “And yes, you may.”
“I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“We’ll go shopping and get you one.”
“It would be funner if it was outside in the sun,” Mosi said.
“But then you wouldn’t be able to swim in the winter,” Richard countered.
“Okay, I guess that’s true. What are through those doors?” She pointed at the doors at opposite ends of the room.
Richard pointed to the one on his left. “Food storage and a water purification system. The other holds fuel, replacement solar panels.
“But come on, there’s more to see,” Richard said, and beckoned her back to the elevator. He pulled the key from beneath his shirt, inserted it in the control panel, and sent them down to the subbasement. Here was Lumina’s armory, shooting range, and gym. Mosi moved down the long line of weapons, ranging from various types of guns to spears and swords and bows and arrows.
“I can come down here?”
“With an adult,” Richard said. “Either me or Joseph.”
“I or Joseph,” Mosi corrected with a militant look.
“Sorry, but you use ‘me’ rather than ‘I’ in this case.”
“Why?” she demanded.
Richard chuckled, thought about it. “Damned if I know. We’ll ask Pamela, she’ll know.”
“But why do I have to be with you or Joseph?”
“Because weapons are dangerous, and you’re”—he almost said a kid but stopped himself and said more diplomatically—“not quite grown up yet, and I’d get in trouble for letting you use them without supervision.”
“My daddy would have let me,” Mosi countered.
Richard leaned back against the table that held the reload equipment and folded his arms across his chest. “Now, that’s a fib, and I know it is because I know from meeting you and seeing the kind of person you are that your father must have been a very smart and wise man, and a very smart and wise man would not let his nine-year-old daughter handle weapons without him watching over her.” He paused, then added, “Or do you want to tell me I’m wrong about your daddy?”
The stony expression softened, and tears glittered in her dark eyes. She ducked her head and looked away. “No. My daddy was very smart.” She turned and headed for the door. Richard followed. “You’re going to get those computers and wreck them, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
* * *
Later that morning it was time to confront the Kenzo problem. Hoping to make the meeting seem less fraught, Richard sat down at the piano and, though it hurt, he began playing a Chopin étude. Kenzo entered before he’d finished. Richard lifted his hands quickly off the keys.
“It should be illegal to stop midmeasure like that,” the Japanese man said.
“I didn’t want to seem rude,” Richard said.
“May I point out that that doesn’t seem to have stopped you before,” Kenzo said dryly.
They locked eyes for a long moment, then Richard dropped his hands back onto the keys and finished the étude.
Kenzo waited until the last chord faded from the air, then asked, “So, what is your decision?”
For some reason the blunt delivery and the crack about his rudeness irritated Richard, and he replied too quickly. “You stay … mostly because it’s too damn much work to replace you.” The moment the words emerged, Richard knew it had been a mistake. He had managed to seem lazy and to disrespect Kenzo all in one careless statement. “What I mean is that I have no idea how to find someone with your skills and qualifications to act as a CFO to a company of this size and magnitude.” Richard ran a hand through his hair and winced when he hit the bare patch and the stitches. “Look, I’m sorry. Please, I do need your help and I respect your knowledge and your advice. Please stay.”
“For the time being I will remain … in memory of Mr. Kenntnis. Pamela mentioned something about allowing us to see Mr. Kenntnis and ascertain for ourselves his condition.”
“Yes, we’re arranging for that.”
“Good. How quickly will that occur? Should I return to Tokyo?”
Wary of touching his head again, Richard tried clasping his fingers and found that hurt too. He gave up and dropped his hands to his sides. “I don’t know yet. I’ve called Rochester, and I think we can set it up in the next few days.”
“Then may I have an office here so I can work?”
“Oh, of course. Jeannette will handle that.”
Jeannette, ever competent, had Kenzo settled into a fourth-floor office within minutes. When she returned, he beckoned her into the office.
“Yes, sir?”
“Mr. Fujasaki’s cell phone is a Lumina issue, right?”
“Yes.” She cocked her head and gave him a measuring glance.
“As is Mr. Gold’s.”
“Correct.”
Richard clasped his hands behind his back and paced over to the window. “I’m concerned about the security on those phones. Perhaps you could monitor the numbers called and calls received. Make sure they’re … secure.” He turned back to face her.
There was a twinkle in her brown eyes. “I can do that, sir. We can’t be too careful. Anything else?”
“Please get Eddie on the phone.”
Within moments, Jeannette had connected him with Rochester. Eddie, never one for social niceties, launched right in. “So we’re trying to get ready for this big confab, but then the guys in the energy division find out, and now they want to make a presentation to the officers about orbiting solar collectors.”
“Hello to you too, Eddie.”
“Huh? Oh, right, hi.”
Richard smothered a chuckle. “I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”
“Have you ever met the energy team?” Eddie asked.
“No.”
“They
’re a bunch of geeks.” Richard forbore stating the obvious. “And there’s something you have to know—when a bunch of scientists get together and try to talk to normal people, they always fuck it up.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re not normal, and there are different types. There’s the guy who gets sidetracked into some really obscure piece of technical minutia and bores the snot out of people. Then there’s the guy who hasn’t been at any of the meetings but has to tell everybody how they’re fucking it up, which makes the normal people think there’s a problem with the project. If you’re really lucky there’ll be the schmoozemeister, the guy who probably isn’t all that good on the science, but he’s a great salesman, and he might be able to pull the meeting back from the edge of disaster. Oh, and expect a couple of them to start having a conversation on some completely different topic while the presenter is talking—”
“Is there a point in here somewhere?” Richard asked, amused, but also aware of the time ticking away.
“Oh, yeah, right. Okay, point being all scientists do this, but the guys on the energy team are the worst.”
“Eddie, you do realize this is sort of the pot calling the kettle black, right?”
There was a squawk of outrage. “I don’t do that.”
“You totally do.”
“Well, okay, maybe I do, but at least I’m aware of it.”
“Look, I want the officers to see what you’re up to, and why the work we do costs so much money. Let the energy team present. Then we’ll let the officers interact with Kenntnis and discuss what you’re doing to try to restore him, and we’ll end with the work to create another sword. Or swordlike thing … weapon.”
“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Eddie said in tones of deep foreboding. He hung up.
Richard went back to work. An hour later Pamela walked in. She didn’t have to speak for Richard to know something was wrong. “What’s happened?”
“Gaia has figured out that Global Computing is a front for Lumina. There’s an article in the Wall Street Journal. As a result, the price of Gaia stock has shot through the roof.”
“I’ll be watching.” Titchen’s final words to him.
Richard drummed his pen on the desk, and the sharp tink of metal against stone seemed harsh in the silence. “We have to get control of Gaia. No matter the cost.”
“Richard, we’re low on cash.”
“Then we take out a loan. The computers are out there. Destroying children and their families. Enough of them in one place might even open a tear. We have no choice.” He paused and pushed away the papers. “How was the link between Global and Lumina discovered? Assuming the most charitable conclusion—did somebody screw up?”
“I don’t think so,” Pamela said slowly.
“So we go to door number two—that this was deliberate. Somebody leaked the connection,” Richard said grimly.
“I’d put my money on Grenier,” Pamela said. “He’s been making like Iago for days.”
“Not sure I follow that,” Richard said. “Am I Othello?”
“More Desdemona with Kenzo as the stand-in for Othello.”
Richard wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “Okay, I’ll play detective. Which means you have to do my paperwork.”
Her expression was sour, but she held out her hand for the sheaf of papers.
* * *
The boy’s expression was half defiant, half devastated. Grenier savored the satisfaction, it was almost as good as a meal at Tamaya.
“I didn’t do it. I didn’t tell anybody. I didn’t even know about it.”
Richard looked at the paper in front of him. “Records indicate your sister bought one hundred shares, then sold them the minute the stock price shot up. You should have gone a bit farther afield to find your front.” Richard’s tone was implacable.
“How would we have the money for something like that? I’m a starving student. She works as a waitress at Olive Garden. I have student loans.”
“At the time, the stock price was at eleven. It’s not hard to come up with twelve hundred dollars. Especially when it netted you well over five thousand.”
“Then where’s this money I supposedly got?” Jorge challenged.
“The brokerage firm indicates it was paid directly into your sister’s checking account.”
Jorge spat out, “This is bullshit! And you were snooping in my sister’s bank account?”
“I’m still a police officer. It wasn’t real hard to get the authorization.”
“I don’t fucking believe this!”
“Let me show you.” Richard turned the big screen of his desktop computer. Jorge leaned in, and Grenier watched as the color drained out of his face. The boy’s lips were white, and he could barely force out the words. They emerged as a whisper. “But I didn’t do it. We didn’t do it. Somebody else put it there. I’ll give it back. I didn’t…” Outrage had given way to fear and grief. There was the burr of unshed tears on the words.
Richard stood, indicating the meeting was over. “It’s not the money. Well, it is, but not this tiny amount. It’s the damage this revelation did to Lumina’s bottom line.”
“Please, Mr. Oort, please believe me.”
“I’m sorry, Jorge. I can tolerate many things, but not disloyalty. You’re fired. Your office has been cleared. You’ll find your things boxed and waiting for you in the lobby.”
“Please, please, Mr. Oort. Take another look. Somebody set me up.” The boy’s eyes slid toward Grenier.
Grenier watched Richard closely. The man had a soft spot for the desperate and afraid, and an especially soft spot when the person happened to be an attractive young man. For an instant Richard hesitated, indecision flickering across his face. Then he regretfully shook his head. “I don’t have any more time to spend on this, Jorge. Frankly, you’re a minor irritant among a number of major crises.”
The grief morphed into bitter anger. “Yeah, what’s one spic kid when you’re saving the fucking world? Except what’s the point if you don’t give a shit about individual people? You’re no different from any other rich asshole!” The boy stormed out.
Richard pressed a hand to his face. Grenier moved ponderously to his side and laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You going to be all right?”
There was a hint of moisture swimming in the blue eyes. “I hate to fire people.”
“With luck, you won’t have to again,” Grenier said, enjoying the moment.
Richard stared at the computer screen. “I have a feeling that the Richard who existed a few years ago, who had never heard of Old Ones, or Lumina, or paladins, would have taken another look,” he said quietly.
However much he might despise Richard in other areas, Grenier had an abiding respect for his abilities as a detective. A deeper investigation would ultimately reveal Grenier’s cyber fingerprints. Grenier said, “You’re leaving for Rochester tomorrow. Let it rest until you get back. I’ll let the boy know you’re going to take another look. And bluntly, you can’t be that man any longer. You have responsibilities that far transcend the needs of any single individual.”
“With apologies to Casablanca…” Richard gave a grim smile. “The problems of one little person don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world?”
“Yes, that’s it exactly.”
Chapter
TWELVE
ROCHESTER wasn’t known for its fine hotels. Jeannette had done her best and booked them all into the Edward Harris House Inn. They had basically taken over the place, with Dagmar, Kenzo, Gold, Brook—Lumina’s second pilot—Cross, Pamela, and Mosi. Weber had also come along, saying he wanted to see exactly what the scientist and aid workers he protected were actually doing. He would depart out of JFK to return to his troops in Africa. Pamela had argued against bringing Mosi, but Richard didn’t want her out of his sight. The girl, in a show of studied nonchalance, had pronounced the Gulfstream to be vastly superior to the Cessna.
Richard
had confidence in his scientific staff, but a lot was riding on these presentations, so as usual he found it nearly impossible to sleep. He had packed his best suits and selected the blue pinstripe with a deeper blue shirt and a silver-and-blue tie. The hilt was arranged in the holster at his back, and he slung on his shoulder rig. The tailor had done a good job. The fact he was armed would be obvious only to another law enforcement professional. The damn shaved spot and angry cut was annoying, but wounds healed and hair grew. He just had to be patient. Richard knew that was vain, but he also needed all the confidence he could muster.
He headed downstairs to find the owners had laid out an impressive breakfast including old-fashioned johnnycakes. As a native of Rhode Island, Richard took johnnycakes very seriously and had missed the crisp cornmeal cakes since his move to New Mexico. He made a mental note to ask Franz to add them to the breakfast menu back at Lumina headquarters.
Dagmar was next downstairs. He stood and hugged the older woman. Her brown hair was expertly highlighted, and she was dressed in businesswoman chic.
She held him at arm’s length and looked him up and down. “You look good. You’ve gained some weight. But did you sleep?” she added severely.
“No, but the stress will be off after today,” Richard said.
“Famous last words. This is Lumina.”
One by one the others joined them. Gold had become paunchier and balder since Richard had last seen him some six months ago. When Pamela and Mosi came downstairs, Mosi ran to take the seat next to Richard. Her long hair was shimmering blue-black, and she wore a cute short set. Pamela went off to join Gold, the other lawyer in the mix. Kenzo sat with Dagmar, and Weber took the chair to Richard’s left, but it was a singularly silent breakfast. Only Cross seemed to have any appetite, and the B and B staff seemed stunned by the amount of food he consumed. Or perhaps the ratty jeans and T-shirt were what really put them off.
At nine, the cars arrived. “Ride with me, Pamela,” Richard said. She cast him a questioning look but joined him and Mosi in the armored Lincoln Town Car. Richard plugged a set of headphones into his phone and handed to it to Mosi. “Listen to some music.”
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