Metal Fatigue

by Sean Williams

  "And end up making things worse for himself?" Roads shook his head. "It doesn't seem likely — too dramatic by far. More likely he'd try to infiltrate their databases and distort the evidence. He — or anyone, for that matter — would need a more pressing reason to keep the Reunited States out of the city."

  The laptop chirped, and both looked down at it. A silver icon encrusted with spikes had appeared on the screen.

  "Good. We've reached House security." Roads tapped at the keyboard again, using PolNet overrides to bypass the required password. Once he had entered the system, he browsed through menus and subprograms, looking for one in particular. Although Mayor's House lacked the tight security net RSD had installed in the library at the university, it did have a closed-circuit monitoring network linked to the central security program. Within moments, Roads had gained access to all the data and had routed it through the screen and his implants.

  He and Barney settled back to watch, neither immune to the importance of what they were seeing.

  The historic first meeting between General Stedman and the Mayor of Kennedy had begun in one of the building's largest conference halls, normally used only for special sittings of the Council. While not open to the general public, the room was filled with people representing both factions: senior officers from the Reunited States on one side, city dignitaries on the other. MSA bodyguards — ubiquitous since the assassinations had begun — hovered around every entrance. Scanning the crowd, Roads recognised Margaret Chappel and the head of the MSA, Adam Xenophou. Not far away was Antoni DeKurzak, watching proceedings from the end of a row, his tall frame allowing him a clear view over the heads in front of him. Martin O'Dell sat at the front of the hall, the superior position earned by his work in the city thus far. Stedman and Packard, with their respective deputies, sat together at a large oak table facing the small crowd. The General was dressed in full uniform, his white hair neatly combed back over his proud forehead and his attention focused firmly forward. The Mayor wore a formal suit and gown of office, and had just started his speech.

  Roads turned up the volume on the computer for Barney's benefit while he eavesdropped via his implants:

  "... through the trials of the Dissolution," Mayor Packard was saying, "Kennedy Polis has stood alone, not immune to the tragedy that befell the rest of the country but strong enough to keep it at bay. After four decades of social engineering — including legislated birth control, strict rationing and recycling, and adherence to the Humanity Laws — the democratic principle has remained firm in our minds. Indeed, in the microcosm that is Kennedy Polis, we have preserved intact a fragment of what has been lost, guarding it jealously for this generation and for future generations to come.

  "Yet we are not too proud to admit that the time has arrived for us to open our doors, to bring to an end the egalitarian way of life that has protected us these long years. The growth of the Reunited States of America has been both remarkable and admirable, and fuelled by desires similar to our own. In joining together we will become partners in a new endeavour: not merely to rebuild what went before, but to create a new society that has learnt from the errors of the past, one that is wiser and stronger for the tribulations its creators have endured ..."

  Barney chuckled softly as the speech continued. "He's laying it on a bit thick, isn't he?"

  "That's his job." Roads indicated the screen. "And the brass seem to like it."

  "Well, they would, wouldn't they? The MSA loves pomp and circumstance, so I guess Stedman's gang would too." Barney shrugged, her smile fading. "Some of what he says makes sense, though. We have been hanging onto the past. That's why it's so hard to believe the Reassimilation's finally here. After all the waiting and all the talk, we don't have any choice but to let go."

  "Not necessarily." Roads studied her image in infrared while the scene in the meeting hall continued in a window on the screen. "As Roger Wiggs said the other day: 'It's never too late in politics.'"

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning that nothing's certain. Stedman's offer has been tabled, but Packard can still reject it, or Stedman can renege on it. Until the deal is up and running, I wouldn't place any bets."

  "You mean Cati, don't you? If he kills Stedman — "

  "Not just Cati." Roads sighed. "The more I see and the more I think about it, the more positive I am that the States are responsible for the Mole. They want something from Kennedy that they're not telling us about."

  Barney stared at him for a long moment. "The Mole's a spy? Is that what you're getting at?"

  "I don't know. Maybe that's what he is, maybe not. But I can't ignore the wolf element any longer." Roads ticked facts off with his fingers. "The timber wolf first appeared around the same time Stedman's envoy arrived; then it turned up on the university lawns the night of Blindeye; and you yourself thought that the Mole was some kind of werewolf. Add that to the fact that timber wolves are common up north — to the point where the States have a picture of one on their coat of arms — and you'll see where I'm headed."

  Barney looked uncertain. "It's a bit tenuous, Phil."

  "I know, but it's there. There has to be a connection."

  "Maybe not the one you think, though. Why would one of Stedman's spies be protecting you, for starters? And why would he continue stealing data when — "

  Roads grunted. "I thought of that, too. Rationally, it looks ridiculous, yet intuitively it doesn't. As much as I like — and, to a certain extent, trust — Martin O'Dell, I can't shake the feeling that he knows something about this. Something he's not telling me."

  "Or isn't allowed to tell you."

  "Probably." Roads sighed again, then rose to stretch his legs. "And the worst of it is, there's nothing I can do about it. Martin has the case, now. If he is involved, he'll find a way to cover it up."

  "Then the best thing to do is to forget about it, don't you think?"

  "Hardly. The Mole is a killer, too. I can't stand by and let someone get away with murder."

  "So what do we do?" Barney asked.

  "We keep going. We're halfway there, you know. Before, we didn't know what Cati was. Now we do, and all we have to do is find out who's controlling him. The Mole is the other way around: there's a chance we know who sent him into the city. Find out who he is and why he's here, and we'll be home free."

  "Put that way, it almost sounds easy."

  "Right."

  They stood in silence, Barney watching the scene inside Mayor's House, Roads, with his hands in his pockets, staring at the convoy. From behind them came the occasional buzz of hand-held radios and the steady plod of RSD officers patrolling the fence.

  "Well," Barney said, "there's not much I can do out here. I'm going inside where it's comfortable. You?"

  "No. I'll stay here for a while. The view's just as good. And besides, I don't want to run into anyone I know — DeKurzak, for instance."

  "Just don't do anything stupid. I'm here if you need me; all you have to do is call and I'll come after you."

  "Thanks, but I think you'll be more use on the inside. I'll check through the security system for loopholes; if I find something, I'll let you know. And if my pass is a dud when I do try to get in, at least we'll be able to talk it through." He lowered his eyes to meet hers. "Still, I really appreciate the offer ... And your patience. It's not easy for me, having to rely on someone else like this."

  "Pffft." She gestured dismissively. "I'd do the same for anyone in your shoes."

  "That's not what I meant."

  "I know." Her eyes twinkled in the darkness. "When it's pay-back time, I'll let you know."

  "You do that." He returned her fleeting kiss and used his implants to follow her as she walked away.

  * * *

  Barney ducked under the trees and across the lawn, heading for the main entrance of Mayor's House. She hated leaving Roads behind, but there was very little he could do inside that he couldn't do where he was. His unlimited access to the security system guaranteed that.

>   Although that in itself was worrying: if he could get in so easily, why not someone else? Cati's controller, for instance — especially if he was Keith Morrow ...

  When she reached the main door, an RSD officer stopped her. She showed him her pass, and he waved her through.

  The plush reception area had been refitted with metal detectors and another security checkpoint. There she handed in her service revolver and, after verifying her pass through a phase correlator, pinned an ID badge to her uniform. Several stone-faced RUSAMC soldiers watched the procedure closely from nearby; only one responded when she smiled at them.

  "Have I missed much?" she asked, exploiting the opportunity to talk with the newcomers.

  "The meeting started half an hour ago," the soldier said with an accent similar to O'Dell's. "Do you know the way?"

  She waved aside the implied offer. "That's okay. I'm not here for the speeches. Moonlighting on the security side of things instead."

  The soldier nodded, then looked away.

  "Roger Wiggs is already here," said the RSD officer behind the security checkpoint. "He asked me to send you straight up."

  "Good. Thanks, Jim." Barney headed for the lifts. The doors hissed open, and she stepped inside. Rising with a jerk, the carriage took her to the second floor, where she disembarked. Another RSD officer — looking out of place among the almost obscenely luxurious fittings of Mayor's House — checked her pass a third time, comparing it with the ID badge.

  "All quiet?" she asked.

  "Dull, if you want the honest truth."

  "Let's hope it stays that way." Barney glanced along the corridor. "The command centre is in the northern wing?"

  "The Reagan Suite, fourth on the left."

  "Thanks." Barney's feet made no sound at all on the thick carpet as she went on her way. Indeed, apart from the soft whisper of air-conditioning, the entire building was silent. She found it hard to believe that the most important event in the city's history was taking place just a dozen metres from her.

  Or was it? The initial meeting, she knew, was little more than a publicity stunt, a symbolic gesture. No doubt the real negotiations would take place later, behind doors closed even to this evening's elite audience.

  If Cati didn't act first...

  When she reached the entrance to the Reagan Suite, she made certain her ID badge was clearly visible to the camera overhead and waited impatiently for someone to let her in. After ten seconds, the doors opened, filling the corridor with the welcome sounds of people hard at work: modems chattering, computer terminals whirring, voices darting back and forth across bowed heads. Below it all droned the steady tones of General Stedman. The Mayor's speech had obviously finished while she was in transit.

  Barney stepped into the Reagan Suite and the doors locked automatically behind her. The room held fifteen people — including David Goss, who had followed his work on Blindeye with the assignment at Mayor's House — and at least twice that many terminals. A wall of monitors along one side gave her a choice of views of the conference hall. She stopped at one at random to watch the General in action, and reaffirmed her first impressions of the man: a born leader, long used to command. What the General's manner of public speaking lacked in style, it more than made up for in sheer implacability. Even Barney, after just a few minutes, felt herself being tugged along by his relentless, steady drawl.

  Looking around to break the spell, she caught sight of Roger Wiggs in one corner. The red-headed officer sat on the edge of a desk, watching the proceedings below with ill-disguised boredom.

  She hesitated before greeting him. A thought had suddenly struck her: DeKurzak had accused Roads of using his position to interfere in the search for the Mole. Clearly that was not the case, but the idea was sound. Couldn't Wiggs, by the same reasoning, be Cati's controller? He had been in a perfect position to deflect any investigation that might uncover Cati's existence and his role in the murders.

  Barely had she thought the idea than she dismissed it. Wiggs hadn't the computer skills to raid archived files in the RSD datapool. He had enough trouble browsing through bulletin boards. Besides, he'd professed ambivalence regarding the Reassimilation on enough occasions to convince her that he wasn't obsessively against it.

  As though sensing her thoughts, he glanced up. She waved, and he motioned for her to come closer.

  "Hi, Roger," she said, joining him at the desk.

  "Barney. I've been waiting for you to turn up."

  "Well, sorry I'm late." Barney noted his solemn expression and wondered at its cause. "And sorry, too, about the case. Phil told me what really happened in the meeting this morning."

  "That's what I want to talk to you about." Wiggs' eyes narrowed slightly. "Did he tell you about his theory? About what the killer might be?"

  "More the other way around, actually," she said. "I told him last night, after we ran a search through the city datapools."

  "Good." Wiggs leaned forward. "Then please tell me you kept a record of everything you found."

  "Of course we did." Barney studied his face; it was pale, even for him. "Why? It should be in the datapools where we found it."

  "I wish it was." One of the security staff brushed past by them. Wiggs took Barney's arm, led her to a corner. "The case is DeKurzak's baby, now. He's had us going over profiles of senior council members and high-ranking officers — like Phil — for the last few days, looking for evidence of this fucking Old Guard of his." Wiggs indicated with a simple gesture what he thought of that idea. "I'm not supposed to be working on my own initiative, but Phil's theory — your theory, whoever's — had me curious. It could be checked, and it seemed a shame not to at least go that far. So I did everything Phil suggested we do. I hunted for the old CATI records, tried to track down the control frequency, even called up a friend in archives to take another look, to make sure I didn't do anything wrong." Wiggs lowered his voice. "I didn't. The information isn't there — and, for all I can tell, never was at all."

  "But — "

  Wiggs held up a hand to silence her protest. "I know, I know. I'm not sure what I'm hoping you'll tell me — that Phil made the whole thing up, or that someone's removed the evidence. Either way, I don't like it. And I can't just let it go, Barney. This might be the only sensible lead we've had for weeks. To let it slip through our fingers now — "

  "I understand." Barney turned away to avoid Wiggs' searching gaze. The data was gone; therefore someone had erased it from the RSD datapool. It seemed obvious to her that Cati's controller was trying to cover his tracks — although to anyone else the absence of evidence wasn't evidence at all. It was simply incriminating.

  "Give me a second, Roger," she said, "and I'll find that frequency for you. Is there a free terminal I can use?"

  Wiggs inquired with Goss. The big officer found Barney a vacant station in one corner. With one hand on the keyboard and the other at her ear, she subvocalised Roads' full name.

  "Hello, Phil? Are you there?"

  "Yes," came Roads' voice over the cyberlink. "What's the problem?"

  "Cati's controller is definitely onto us."

  "What makes you say that?"

  Barney outlined what Wiggs had told her, and added: "If he knew about the data we lifted, then he must have had access to Margaret Chappel's files. That's where the investigation stopped."

  "Exactly." Roads was silent, thinking. Then: "You said 'he'. It could be a 'she', you know."

  "Are you talking about Margaret herself? I thought she was on your side."

  "She is, but... No, that makes even less sense."

  "I agree. No use being paranoid." Barney tapped at the keyboard, recalling her thoughts about Wiggs. "Anyway, the file on Cati should still be in my laptop. Can you send it to me?"

  "Easy. Where are you?"

  She fiddled with the terminal's operating system. "CNTRL14/mhsec.rsd.kp.namcp."

  "Okay. I'll transfer it straight away," Roads said. "While I've got you: I just finished a sweep of the monitoring
program."

  "And?"

  "There are a couple of dead zones: one on the first floor, another in the basement. The system hasn't raised an alarm in either case because cameras cover exits from each area, but still ... They should be checked, at least."

  "I'll do it myself when I've finished here."

  "Good. I'll give you the whereabouts while I send you the file."

  "Thanks, Phil." Barney jotted down the exact locations of the unmonitored areas and tucked the scrap of paper into a pocket. Moments later, the screen in front of her came to life.

  "Roger?"

  Wiggs leaned over her shoulder. "You've got it?"

  "The lot." Barney stood, motioned him into the seat. "I'd take a hard copy, if I were you. Can't be too careful around here, it seems."

  "Right." Noticing her eagerness to move on, he inquired: "You're not sticking around?"

  "No. I've got something to do. But I'll come back later to see how you got on."

  "Thanks. If you see Phil, say hi and tell him I'll do my best."

  Behind them, the doors to the command centre swung open and a handful of people entered. Two plain-clothed RSD officers came first, followed by Martin O'Dell and Antoni DeKurzak. Barney glanced at the monitors, belatedly realising the meeting had finished.

  "Excuse me, Roger." She headed across the room, clutching the piece of paper in her pocket. If something was going to happen tonight — and she, like Roads, didn't dare doubt that it would — then they were running out of time. Stedman was loose inside the building, no longer watched by dozens of people in the conference hall. The risk of attack had just risen significantly, and she needed to check the dead zones before it was too late.

  DeKurzak caught her eye as she hurried for the door. "Officer Daniels," he said.

  Barney forced a smile, but didn't stop to chat. After what the liaison officer had done to Roads, she'd be just as happy never to see him again.

  DeKurzak raised an arm to stop her. "Leaving so soon?"

  "There's work to do, sir," she said tersely. "I need to inspect dead zones on the first floor and basement."