Harwol suddenly grabbed Derec's shirt and walked him back against the examination table. He pressed Derec against the hard surface. Harwol's breath flowed hot across his face.
"I don't have time to be diplomatic. I have dead agents and a lot of interference and now a piece of evidence is missing. I do not need self-important Spacer attitude. "
Derec braced himself on the table. "I used to be of the opinion that violence was the last refuge of the incompetent."
Harwol's eyes narrowed. "And now?"
"Now? I think it's the first choice of an idiot."
Harwol's grip tightened, and he lifted Derec slightly from the floor.
"Beat it out of me," Derec said. "That's always the best way to solve a problem. Works for me all the time."
"Agent Harwol. " Palen's voice cut through the sudden stillness. Her voice was calm, authoritative. "I want to see you privately. "
Derec's heart hammered. Slowly, Harwol eased his grip. Derec's feet touched the floor. Harwol stepped back.
"I want that robot," he said. "I want it found and returned."
Derec cleared his throat. "And if I can't do that?"
"Then we'll see how big an idiot I am."
Harwol turned to glare at Palen, who stood nearby, hands on hips.
"Now, " she said.
Derec watched them all leave, then sat down. "If I live through the night…"
"Sir-" Hofton began.
Derec held up a finger. "Where's Polifos?"
"I don't know," Hofton said. "No one seems to remember when they saw him last."
"Rana?"
She shrugged.
"All right, never mind." He looked over the console. "We have another subject to do an excavation on."
"Another robot?" Rana asked.
"No, not quite. A cyborg." Derec turned to Hofton. "Get Palen's pathologist-what's his name? Baxin. I think he should assist with this one. In the meantime, where the hell did Coffee go?"
"I can answer that question, Derec," Thales said. "Coffee walked out of here after I reloaded a functional matrix. " "What did he do?" Rana asked, leaning over Derec's shoulder to peer at the displays.
"We talked about this possibility," Derec said. He looked from one screen to another, trying to follow the RI's step trees. "Thales has been working at recovering Bogard's matrix so we could find out what happened when it collapsed. Because I'd built so many peripherals onto Bogard, it partly became a hardware problem. Thales thought it was a question of raw memory-not enough-but when he got to use this system, he had enough, and realized that wasn't the whole problem."
"A positronic brain," Thales said, "is not simply programming. Programming can be corrupted. The physical pathways are as necessary to its function as the matrix being run on them. Therefore, I determined that in order to successfully recover Bogard I needed to load its matrix into a brain."
"You had no way of knowing," Derec said, "if this would maintain its integrity."
"I was reasonably confident. But, no, I had no way to be certain other than to load it and see."
"You gambled."
"There was an imperative."
"Explain."
"The situation has evolved," Thales said. "Ariel and Coren Lanra have been attacked. Both are safe and Ariel is back at the embassy. She has been requesting that you contact her as soon as possible. However, there is a local problem which may pose a threat. I have traced the gates I found in the lab systems. There are two destinations. Most of them go directly to a location in the Settler sections. One, however, feeds directly to Director Rotij Polifos's apartments."
"What does that have to do with Coffee?" Rana asked.
"Three Law imperative, Rana," Thales replied. "I am required to protect. I cannot effectively do so as a stationery system."
"What," Derec asked, "is Coffee now?"
"The unit previously designated 'Coffee' is contained in a memory buffer within my system. The robot now contains a composite matrix of myself and Bogard. It is effectively what you initially intended in designing Bogard."
Derec felt excited and worried. "It's functional?"
"After running several diagnostics and situation simulations, I was confident in disconnecting it from the link."
Derec's hands curled into fists. "So where is it?"
"In the Settler section. It went to follow up on the gates we discovered, and to attempt to locate Director Polifos. " Thales paused. "It seemed the most reasonable avenue of action." Another pause. "Did I err?"
Twenty-Four
All we have to do, Coren thought as he rode the walk way toward the embassy district, is find them. Or let them find us…
Neither thought inspired him. He started to raise a hand to his eyes, to rub them, and his shoulder spasmed. When the pain subsided, he resigned himself to standing as motionless as possible till he reached his destination.
He thought about what Towne had told him.
The idea that Nyom was no more than an incidental casualty grated, but it made a kind of deeply banal sense. Rega entertained conspiracy theories, believing the universe was being manipulated by unseen cartels and malevolent forces. But Coren had worked for the government; he knew better. Things were a mess most of the time. Coren took compensatory comfort in that, after he thought about it for a while. It meant, finally, that no one was really in charge, and in the end he preferred it that way.
But it was intellectual comfort. In his gut, he wanted very much to blame someone when things went wrong. He very much wanted to hold vast powers responsible and perhaps try to bum them down to atone for their misdeeds.
He wanted Nyom's death to mean something.
It did not. Except to him. It was difficult seeing that as sufficient.
Coren glanced around. The walkway carried him now through an office district. Stairs led up and down into a jumbled landscape of boxy office complexes, some with windows, most with illuminated signs giving the name of the company or just a number. Walkways and enclosed corridors crossed above him, connecting one side to the other, and above that were the larger stained surfaces of higher levels. He saw a grid marker pass by and started moving to the slower lanes.
He still had another person to question: Tresha. What to ask her, though?
To begin with, why kill a data troll and take her place? Perhaps the information Towne had commissioned her to find related directly to the baleys. But how?
And he was not not certain that the woman was this mysterious Tresha. It was simply a conclusion-a logical one, but not something upon which he could be absolutely certain. By the time he got back to the embassy, perhaps Ariel would have made the final determination.
Two more exits. Three people came from the opposite direction. Coren followed them with his eyes as they passed by and continued on
Twenty or so meters behind him two people rode his lane. A man and a woman. Immediately his fatigue seemed to subside, replaced by a wary tension. He kept his posture unchanged and looked ahead. A corridor split off from the avenue, but too close to make his exit look natural. He was four exits from the most direct route to the Auroran Embassy.
Perhaps it was only coincidence. He was fairly sure Tresha was under guard at the Auroran Embassy, but that left her "muscle," Gamelin, still loose. Coren had no valid reason to feel that he was being followed, but…
He watched the corridor pass by and casually stepped over to the next slower lane. Only one separated him now from the stationery lanes. He glanced back. The couple had moved closer.
Coren stepped to the slowest lane. He saw an archway approaching that opened on a public mall. At five meters, he left the moving lane and strode purposefully toward the arch. He heard footsteps behind him.
He passed beneath the arch and ran.
The mall was a collection of cafes and clubs. The urgent throb of music pushed at the air. People looked up from tables nearby as he sprinted past.
He reached the far end to be confronted by a broad stair heading up. Behind
him, the two people came running.
Coren bounded up the steps, three and four at a time. His breathing was heavy at the top, where he came to a large plaza with a holographic fountain in the center. Color and shape danced and shimmered thickly in the air.
He skirted the perimeter of the fountain and palmed a stunner. He thumbed off the safety and searched for an open door, but there were only windows encircling the plaza. On the opposite side, another staircase led up to the next level.
Coren judged the distance, took long strides, and hit the rim of the fountain. He closed his eyes tightly as he jumped across two meters of water to land on the edge of the central display platform. One more step and he slitted open one eye. He stood in the middle of the holographic display. All around him color prismed, split, washed one into the other. He glimpsed the top of the stairs he had ascended through brief gaps in the imaging. Crouching, he watched.
The pair came into the plaza and stopped. They exchanged glances and drew weapons, but through the dance of light Coren could not tell what kind of pistols they held. Each one circled the fountain in the opposite direction. Coren watched the woman, turning as she moved.
They joined on the other side of the fountain, spoke briefly, then hurried up the next staircase. Coren counted to ten and jumped out the far side of the display.
He wanted to continue running, reach the embassy, and worry about these two later, but that would be sloppy. He did not know if others waited further along the way, a second team waiting to pick up where the first left off. Slowly he walked around the fountain until he could see the landing above. Empty.
Silently, he walked up the stairs.
At the top, just beyond the wall that rose on either side of the landing, he found a boulevard. Residential warrens lined the far side. Personal transports sped by in both directions. He saw a moving walkway across the six lanes. A bridge spanned the trafficway to his right. He leaned cautiously out and glanced down the walkway, left and right.
The woman stood about three meters along, pressed against the wall. She seemed to be watching the footbridge. A moment later, Coren saw movement on it-the man.
It was a clear shot. He aimed carefully and fired. The man spasmed briefly and fell.
The woman made a move in the direction of the bridge. Coren rushed up behind her. She started to turn, bringing her own weapon up, when he reached her. He grabbed her gun hand and pushed it down sharply, bending the hand forward against the underside of the wrist. Her fingers loosened automatically and the weapon fell.
But then she drove her foot back against his shin. The pain surprised him. He lost his grip and she broke free. She spun around and slammed the heel of her hand against his collarbone. Coren snapped back against the wall. He saw her arm go back, preparing for another blow. Gracelessly, he kicked her across the ribs. She staggered back and fell to the sidewalk.
She sat up, began to rise. Coren dropped to one knee between her legs and pushed his pistol against her cheek.
"Tresha?" he asked on spec.
She frowned. "Who?"
He saw a shoulder holster beneath her jacket, and pushed the short coat off her. The rig held a commlink, restraints, and an ID folder. He plucked the little black case out and flipped it open. "You're a cop?"
"Chavez. Homicide. And you're in a lot of trouble," she managed to say, her voice shaking.
"Why are you following me?"
She glared at him. Coren dropped the ID wallet in her lap and stood.
"I don't have time for this. You tell your-"
"Put down the weapon!"
Coren turned. A uniform cruiser stood ten meters off now, two officers alongside the vehicle, weapons drawn.
"It's all right," he called, raising his weapon, fingers spread. "I have-" "Time to wake up. You weren't stunned that badly. Come on."
Coren resisted opening his eyes. He had been aware of sounds around him for some time, though it was hard to judge how long he had actually been awake. Neural stuns did odd things to time sense, among other things.
He recognized the voice, though. He blinked. The light was low, for which he was grateful.
A broad-shouldered man with short, graying hair stood above him, watching, his bright green eyes intent.
"Inspector…Capel?"
"Very good, Mr. Lanra. Let's hope the rest of your memory works as well. Can you sit up?"
Coren closed his eyes, trying to orient himself. He was lying on a cot. He sat up slowly, levering himself with his arm. His left shoulder throbbed with deep pain and he sucked air between his teeth.
"Here," Capel said.
Hands grasped his arms; Capel pulled his right side around, and Coren swung his legs over the edge of the cot.
"Oh, that hurts," Coren groaned.
"You're bruised. Hairline fracture on the clavicle-no wonder the painkillers you've been taking don't work. You should take better care of yourself, Mr. Lanra. Stop doing foolish things. Like running from the police."
Coren looked up at Capel. "I was surrendering to the uniforms."
"They saw a weapon," Capel said reasonably. "You'd already shot one officer and had the other under threat."
"I was checking her ID. They were following me."
"You have some reason to be running from strangers?"
"Strangers usually don't follow me."
"Here."
Capel offered a glass of amber liquid. Coren automatically accepted it and straightened. "How long?"
"They brought you in an hour ago. If you hadn't been so beaten up you'd have been awake by then. Since you weren't, we brought you to the infirmary first."
"Thanks." Coren lifted the glass and sniffed. He recognized the acid smell of the standard enhancer cocktail used by people in high stress occupations-like emergency medical techs and the military and police-to provide quick, temporary revitalization. He would sleep later, sleep deeply, if he drank this now, and he was not sure he liked that. But his head felt wrapped in thick wadding and his thoughts came sluggishly. He drank down half the liquid.
"Who did you think we were?" Capel asked after a minute.
Coren felt sharper already. One drawback was that the pain in his shoulder was more acute.
"First, were you following me, or did I stumble into something?"
"We were looking for Ree Wenithal. You were seen leaving his apartment warren, so I assigned a team to follow you. After you left Myler Towne, I decided we needed to have a talk. "
"Ah. You found out Wenithal was Damik's sponsor."
Capel nodded. "Do you know where he is?"
"Last I knew, in the Auroran embassy."
Capel frowned. "What's he doing there?"
"It's a long story."
Capel backed away from the cot and sat down. He crossed his left leg over his right, propped his head on his left hand. "You aren't leaving till I hear it all."
Coren finished the glass of unpleasant fluid, looked around the sterile infirmary room, and decided that he had no real choice. Still, he felt compelled to bargain.
"Quid pro quo?" he asked.
"We'll see." Capel smiled. "You go first." In his years as a government agent, Coren had found that lying to the authorities only gained time, and not very much at that. If you were not part of the center of their attention, a lie could pass almost unnoticed, but if you entered their field of interest even a little bit, lying never proved a sound policy. The only people who could get away with it were those who could afford to hire people to lie for them.
Coren doubted he could talk his way past Capel with anything less than a complete disclosure. At this point, it might be worth it to see what Capel knew. Besides, he had no time for anything else.
When Coren finished, Capel was leaning forward, arms on his knees, listening intently. After a time, Capel straightened and pushed a button on the wall behind him.
"Coffee, two," Capel said, then folded his hands in his lap and looked at Coren. "I suppose it's occurred to you to wonder why Da
mik ran to Wenithal in the first place?"
"I was coming to ask him that the night you and I met."
Capel's face flexed in a half-smile. The door opened, and a uniformed officer brought in a tray bearing two cups and a carafe. He placed it on the table beside Capel and left. Capel poured and handed a cup to Coren. After the revitalizer, it smelled wonderful.
"We dug up Wenithal's case logs after we found the connection," Capel said. "He was a reliable cop for most of his career, nothing special. That last case was his entree to bigger things. Very high profile. And very successful, as far as it went."
"That's rather ambivalent."
"He didn't finish. Arrests were made, several facilities were closed down, a big media event;resulted making him out to be a hero. It benefitted everyone more than not, so Wenithal was allowed to quietly resign. But he wasn't guilt free, and some people wondered if his success hadn't been just a little too convenient. "
"You're saying he was corrupt?"
Capel shrugged. "My personal take, after reviewing the logs, is that Eurosector Enforcement Agent Ree Wenithal was handed that success as a reward to stop looking. The missing children that were recovered comprised less than one percent of the total, which is still a considerable number. But he was far from over when he started arresting people. You know and I know that once you start making arrests, those you don't get in the first wave go to ground and get harder to find. If they're adequately resourced, you never get them. They leave Earth and you lose them."
"And he lost some?"
"I'd say he probably lost the core perpetrators. Nobody who served time as a result of that case damaged the organization by their absence. There was a four- or five-year hiatus and the abductions began again. The market wasn't shut down, the routes weren't closed. What happened afterward was all public relations, and no one was willing to look foolish by calling it into question. "
"No other agents followed up?"
"Two of Wenithal's partners from those days died shortly thereafter-one from natural causes, the other in an accident. There were three people in the civil advocate's office connected to the case who died." Capel waved a hand. "All the deaths were explained, and from what I can tell the explanations were legitimate, but the fact remains that those closest to events either died or quickly found new careers. I'm reading all this and I'm thinking coverup. Call me paranoid. It's ancient history, though, so there's no way to find out for sure. "
Chimera (isaac asimov's robot mystery) Page 31
