“Yea—yes, but—”
“Not to mention what could happen if the hyperacid fumes from blown battery cells ooze along for the ride?”
“Yes, ma’am, but—”
“Break that load down. Now.” Jani bit back the Spacer just in time. Although it would have fit. The woman, close-cropped hair greyed at the temples, coverall sleeves and pants legs knife-creased, had suddenly developed the wild-eyed look of a person who had thought her order-taking days long over. She stepped off the skiff, grapplers in hand, and started unloading the table. The task began in grudging silence, although the words, thought I left this behind at fuckin’ Fort Sheridan drifted down to Jani as she and Angevin continued on their way to Main.
“What the hell—?” Angevin glanced back at the muttering driver. “You really did whack your head, didn’t you?”
“What do you mean?” Jani asked. The last traces of nausea had passed, taking with it the fuzzy-headedness and trembling in her thighs.
“Were you in the Service? Jeez, she almost saluted you.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“I saw her arm tense. She wanted to.” Angevin shook her head. “I wanted to.” She gave Jani a worried look. “Or maybe she just wanted to belt you. But she didn’t. What are you? I mean, really?”
I don’t think I know, anymore. Fingering through her sense of calm, Jani sensed an unwelcome edginess, the feeling of being au point. She sensed the business end of her own duck paddling furiously, quacking for her to wake up. Something is wrong with me. Something more than travel lag, a stomach unsettled by stress and years of strange foods, a back wrenched by too many cheap mattresses. “I’m just an Interior staffer on special assignment,” she answered hastily, as she recalled again how the garage guy had behaved in the days before his collapse.
“Yeah, ok. Whatever you say.” Angevin fell silent for a time, then piped, “Wish you could bottle that voice—I’d buy it and use it on Durian.”
Muscles aches. Disorientation.
“He’d shit himself. Twice.”
Mood swings? She’d been so tightly wrapped for so long, how could she judge? Chronic indigestion? Oh, hell.
“Then I’d use it on Steve. He’d never cut me out again.”
Am I really sick? Jani shivered, even though the tunnel air felt comfortably warm. Dying? She heard Angevin mutter something about stupid shoes, and followed her to a vacant two-seater parked at a mini-charge. Without thinking, Jani got in on the passenger side. Angevin could drive. She didn’t feel up to it.
CHAPTER 22
Angevin’s office, at the opposite end of the wing from Durian Ridgeway’s, at first looked like a smaller version of her boss’s grey aerie.
It was only upon closer inspection that the differences became obvious. Instead of Durian’s great art, Angevin had hung holos of family and friends on her walls. From a well-lit place overlooking the sitting area, Hansen Wyle’s face, young enough for the uninformed to think him Angevin’s twin brother, smiled down.
She’s doing ok, Jani thought at the portrait. She’s got your mouth and your temper, and your knack for sussing people out. It’s going to take some effort for her to shake off Ridgeway, but she’s got a colony boy to help her. You’d like him, I think. Too bad you’re not here to wipe the Earth glitter from his eyes.
“Tell me what you’re looking for.” Angevin sat down at her desk and activated her workstation. “I’ve got top-level clearance—I can find you anything you need.”
“Can you get into Cabinet Court evidence files?” Jani dragged a chair around to Angevin’s side of the desk.
“Oh, you don’t ask for much, do you?” Angevin fingered her way through one color-coded screen after another. “This is going to be a one-shot, you know. As soon as systems sense me in there, they’ll shut down and trace back.”
Jani dug into her duffel for Lucien’s jig. “This should help,” she said as she attached the device to Angevin’s workstation. “I’ve got passwords, too.”
Angevin accepted the piece of wrapping paper with held breath. “That goddamn toy soldier,” she said as she read the list of words. “I am not going to ask—I do not want to know.” She uttered the first few passwords, then paused. “Where are we going?”
“Rauta Shèràa,” Jani said. “Both Base and Consulate. SRS-1 designates.”
“This is what you were doing in the Library, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. I had to quit before I could finish.”
“What do you think you’ll find there?” Angevin looked directly at her display, uttered a few passwords in Hortensian German, then turned back to Jani as she waited for the codes to clear. “A signed letter from Acton van Reuter confessing to everything?”
Jani rubbed her face, then looked around for a source of something cold to drink. “A few communication logs with the right dates and names could serve the same function.” She couldn’t spot any ewers or coolers and made do with a trip to the bathroom sink. “I know when his Excellency was putting in his time at the Consulate, his father checked up on him on a fairly regular basis.” Boy, did I know. She filled a large dispo from the tap, drained it, and filled it again. “Acton must have had a source or two there. It was a well-known fact he didn’t approve of his son working so far from home.”
Angevin nodded. “Yeah, I heard he was a real stick. Durian calls him The Old Hawk. Like he was some kind of god.”
“If you were an Earth-firster who believed in keeping the colonies on a short leash, he was.” Jani returned to her seat, dispo in hand. “Prime Minister Cao was a disciple of his, whether she’ll admit it now or not. Her first major seat was on Acton’s Back Door Cabinet—that interim election he won after Nawar was forced to resign, right after the idomeni kicked us out. Cao served as Deputy Finance Minister, I think.”
Angevin toyed with her touchboard. “Maybe she just played up to him to get her foot in the big door. Wouldn’t be the first time an old blowhard got sucked down his own pipe.”
Jani pretended not to hear Angevin’s tacit admission with regard to Durian Ridgeway. “Cao tries to sound more moderate now,” she continued, “but she’s coming down pretty hard on Ulanova’s efforts to expand the concept of colonial semiautonomy. Not that I think the Exterior Minister’s motives are pure.”
Angevin folded her arms, her eyes fixed on her flickering screen. “Durian thinks she wants to be some kind of empress. Of course, he’s just repeating His Excellency’s opinion. If he had to choose between Empress Ulanova and political oblivion, though, he’d crown her himself.”
Jani hid her grin at Angevin’s assessment of her superior. What does Nema think when he looks at you? Does he look for a copy of Hansen and come away disappointed? He never grasped how different it could be for humanish, especially a pretty humanish female laboring under her legendary father’s shadow. But Hansen the iconoclast appreciated the rebel. Would he have understood that his daughter was being as daring in her way as he had been in his?
But you know how she really feels—she’s got your face on her wall where she can see it at all times.
“We’re in the index.” Angevin’s fingers drummed against the arms of her chair. “There are executive staff comlogs and junior up-and-comer comlogs. Affiliated Service staff. Security.” Her eyes widened. “There was even a kitchen comlog. Had to be, I guess. We must have had a hell of a time shipping food into Rauta Shèràa.”
Doe, you just said a mouthful and a half. Jani had been involved in negotiating the supply shipments. That was due in part to her training and education, but also to the fact that the Laumrau had seemed afraid of her even then.
I was Nema’s, and the first skirmishes had already taken place in the Vynshà strongholds in the south. The Laumrau felt sure the chief propitiator’s Eyes and Ears would deliberately botch a shipment schedule, sending the wrong type of humanish food into Rauta Shèràa at the wrong time. That would have brought severe dishonor upon their blessed dominant city, providing the Vynshà with
a compelling reason to force the Laumrau to relinquish their power. Maybe I should have screwed up. I could have saved us all a great deal of trouble.
“Try the executive staff logs first,” she said to Angevin. “The Old Hawk was status-conscious, even when it came to snitches.”
“Strong words, Risa. Almost as though you speak from personal experience.” Angevin keyed in Jani’s directive, then tossed her an inquisitive look. “Durian said you’ve spent your entire career ‘working out.’ Did you ever cross paths with our minister’s late daddy?”
Paths, words, swords. Jani weighed her words. “The occasional order trickled down. I was pretty low-level back then. Didn’t suffer many direct hits.”
“Were you ever on Shèrá? My dad spent eight years there, with school and his work as Laumrau liaison. That’s why it surprises me that Durian admires him so much. He and Acton van Reuter were constantly at each other’s throats. It wasn’t until I was at university that my mom finally told me about some of the battles they’d had. Maybe she thought it would scare me, keep me from studying paper. She told me van Reuter actually threatened my dad with a treason charge if he didn’t cease and desist in his efforts to improve idomeni-human relations.”
Jani dredged her memories, trying to separate the things she could have heard through the intelligence grapevine from those only a deep insider could know. It wasn’t easy—like trying to cleave a single person and keep both halves alive.
“Acton had Laumrau support in that, actually,” she finally said. “Everyone at the top of the tree gets scared when the ground beneath starts shaking. Parallels what’s going on now. The Vynshàrau are having a hell of a time bringing the Haárin to heel, even though Haárin have been Vynshàrau hounds for the past several generations. And of course, we have the colonial problem.”
“On the macro and micro level.” Angevin made a wry face as she entered a series of rapid keyings. “This isn’t working.”
Jani strained for a better view of the display. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t look at it!” Angevin gave Jani a one-armed shove that propelled her back into her chair. “My retinal lock’s activated. If the display senses you looking at it, it’ll shut my workstation down, and I’ll need to get Ginny Doyle here in person to get it back up.” She exhaled with a shudder. “Ginny gets very ‘Colonel-ly’ when she’s rousted out of bed at three in the morning.” She barked a few more commands at her screen, then slumped back in defeat. “It won’t let me in. I’m using all the words you gave me, and it won’t let me in.”
Jani edged forward as much as she dared. “What’s the reason code?”
“PM-seven eighty.”
“Lock-down by the Prime Minister?”
“More than that. An examiner’s lien. They’re not even letting the members of the Court look at it now.” Angevin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “They know we’re here.”
“Not if that jig’s working like it’s supposed to.” Unless Lucien had set her up. Jani took another gulp of water. What she had consumed so far sloshed in her stomach like an internal sea, whitecaps, undertow, and all. “I’ve got Ulanova’s passwords. She’s driving the Court—if she can’t get in, nobody can. Back out and try again.” She watched Angevin work. As the minutes passed, she grew conscious of a distinctive aroma. “I think we have company,” she whispered.
“What?” Angevin scowled as she picked up the scent. “That jerk.” She turned toward her door. It was just barely ajar, the crack scarcely visible.
“Don’t you arm a proximity alarm when you work late?” Jani asked.
“Why bother? Who the hell can get up here?” Angevin punched her touchboard, activating too many pads at once and eliciting a squeal from the helpless electronic array. Then, faint as the clove scent in the air, a smile of triumph flicked to life. “You may as well come in, Steve,” she called out. “We know you’re there.”
The seconds ticked by. Then the door eased open and Steve stepped inside. He still wore the clothes he’d had on when Jani had last seen him, but the overall effect had now degraded to distinctly-rumpled-and-needs-a-shave-to-boot. Portrait of a young man who had bought dinner from a machine and slept in his office.
“I were just walking by,” he began lamely, the telltale nicstick smoking weakly in his hand. “Saw lights. Wondered what were up.” His eyes chilled as he looked at Angevin. “My my, aren’t we dressed fancy for the office.” He sneered. “Oh. Right. Stupid of me. You had a dinner tonight.”
“It was canceled.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.” He smiled too brightly at Jani. “Well, Risa, you’re looking well!”
Jani eyed Angevin, who looked quite pinched around the mouth. “Thanks, but I don’t see how that’s possible. Angevin found me on my bathroom floor. Too much to drink at dinner.” She fingered the tender bruise on her forehead. “I doubt I look any better than you do.” Steve winced at that, while Angevin stiffened. Good—piss them both off.
Silence filled every available space. Angevin sat with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on her bare desktop. Steve rocked slowly from one foot to the other.
“She told me.” Angevin jerked her chin toward Jani. “I had to hear it from a stranger. You couldn’t tell me.”
Steve stepped toward the desk, one foot in front of the other, like a man on a balance beam. “Didn’t want it to rub off on you.” He flicked the nicstick into the trashzap. “Didn’t want you to go through what the others did during the purge.”
“So you hooked up with her? Talked about it all with her? And left me to wonder what the hell happened?”
“Betha needs a friend.” Steve toed the carpet. “Needs support. You’re different. You’re a Wyle. You don’t need anybody.”
Angevin closed her eyes and covered her mouth with her hand.
“Well, we both need you now,” Jani said. “We’re trying to code into Court of Inquiry evidence files and systems won’t let us in.”
“Oh, phfft, you’re not getting any of that,” Steve said, “it all got seven-eightied about an hour ago. Expectin’ an examiner’s lien from Cao’s head dex any minute now. They’re shuttin’ us down.”
Angevin spun her chair to face him. “How do you know!”
He shrugged. “Everyone’s talking about it down the hall. Third shift’s in a tizz. Figured it would happen, though. Cao never were happy with all that House paper we shipped her last month. She claimed we were withholding from an Official Inquiry. Her complaint got bumped to your boss for reply.” He eyed Angevin suspiciously. “Airn’t heard nothing of it since. Till tonight.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of any of this.” Angevin glared at Steve. “Just one more thing you couldn’t tell me!”
“Don’t look at me like that. We were sworn!” Steve pulled at his pockets and freed a fresh ’stick. “Doyle stood at the door while we got all the paper together, watched us like a bloody vulture. Ever see her when she’s on? All she needs are spurs and a whip.” He dragged a chair in the vicinity of the desk, closer to Jani than to Angevin, and sat down with a heavy sigh. “I saw her in my sleep for a week after, bald head shinin’.”
“That’s exactly the paper I asked you to look for.” Jani looked at Steve until he began leaning in Angevin’s direction. “I would have appreciated it if you’d have told me you couldn’t get it.”
Steve cracked the ’stick’s ignition tip. “Didn’t say that, did I? All I said were you wouldn’t be able to access the fiche through Ange’s station.” He studied Jani through his smoky veil. “I can get the originals.”
“You held back Consulate paper from a Court of Inquiry, too!” Jani’s temples started to throb.
“I’m sure he had a good—I’m sure he had a reason.” Angevin’s eyes were now as stormy as Jani’s stomach. “Which he will explain to us now.”
Steve scooted his chair away from the desk. “The originals we’ve got here were from His Excellency’s private library. Willed to him by his father. Justice is supposed t
o decide soon whether private papers can be claimed by the PM under a blanket subpoena. Cao wouldn’t tell us why exactly she wanted them, so van Reuter told her to blow. Betha and me split ’em up—the Lady had given them to her for safekeeping.”
“Lyssa?” Jani nodded. That made sense. A great deal concerning old Acton must reside in those papers. “I want both sets. Where’s Betha?” She stood up. “Home?”
Steve shook his head. “Vacant office down the hall. I saw her a few hours ago. She told me she’d probably be here most of the night, but that she’d have her papers in the morning. I’d bring mine from where I stashed them in my flat. We’d give them to you together.” He blinked. “Teamwork, you know.”
Angevin growled. “Teamwork, my ass! I’ll show her teamwork.” She swatted her workstation into standby, then ran from the room. Steve and Jani looked at one another, then pelted after her.
The vacant office was dark. Its trashzap had been recharged.
“What time do the cleaners come through?” Jani asked an extremely subdued Steve.
“Eleven,” he replied. “She said she’d be here till morning.” He pulled open a drawer, pushed it closed. “She wouldn’t have run out on me.” He leaned against the desk. “She wouldn’t have left me behind.” He pushed a hand through his hair, his eyes wide and lost. Angevin reached out to him, hesitated, then muttered, “Screw this,” and threw herself into his arms.
“She probably went home,” Jani said after a time. “I’ll try to get in touch with her from here. You two try her place, then get some sleep. We’ll meet in Angevin’s office at oh-eight. Don’t forget your half of the docs. Steve?” She waited in the doorway for some response from the enmeshed pair, finally detecting a hint of a nod from Steve. “Oh-eight,” she repeated, closing the door softly.
The grumble in her stomach sounded animal. She stopped at a vend cooler in Doc Control’s deserted cafeteria and bought juice and a sandwich. Then she dragged a chair over to the Houseline array in the corner of the room. In between mouthfuls, she made calls. House Security, the desk clerk at the Interior employee hostel, every third-shift manager she could find. The Doc pool. The parts bins. The Library. Every cafeteria in the complex. No one recalled seeing Betha, although the parts-bins clerk remembered her afternoon visit.
Code of Conduct Page 24
