The proof was there to be seen. Van Dieman had made himself a powerful man. His own Clemsen Bioresearch was no small part of the Metadynamics family. He had good con., nections in the megacorporation and in the government, but was his other connections that had stood him in such good stead over the past year, and those connections would make his rise unstoppable. Opponents of Wiley's sort would soon be part of Van Dieman's past.
For the moment, however, Wiley still had the power to annoy. He separated Van Dieman from the herd as they left
the last session of Metadynamics's quarterly coordination briefing.
"I hear you're losing the top brains in your research branch, Darney, Thompson, and Trahn, all at once. Quite a blow." Wiley made a mock sympathetic noise. "Hard to recover from, especially with a budget cut ahead. I'd say you're looking at some hard knocks in the market, my friend."
Where had Wiley gotten that information? "Those transfers have not yet been announced."
Wiley smiled a knowing and thoroughly smug smile. "Word gets around. Too bad—for you, I mean. I know how hard you worked to build up that staff. I hear the market's already reacting. I even hear that there's a rumor about you looking for greener pastures elsewhere." Wiley's tone suggested that he found such a concept very satisfying on a personal level.
"No need to worry," he told Wiley. "I will be staying within the family. I've accepted the executive vice presidency at NSC."
Network Securities Corporation's mission encompassed operations for most of Metadynamics's North American-based companies, including Datapik. Van Dieman's new position did not cover Datapik. Yet. That would change.
"I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other," he told Wiley. Smiling at the man's stunned surprise, Van Dieman left him behind.
Upon return to his office, Van Dieman ordered both his secretary and his secretarial agent to shield him from any intrusions. He settled at his desk, noting the fine, expensive furnishings of his office, the symbols of his mundane power. Such power offered great rewards, but he wished to contemplate a different sort of power, one that offered greater rewards. He blanked the window for privacy and cut off the hologram projector nestled among the shelves of his office's inner wall. The false image of a rare Guthrie bronze faded away, allowing his prize to emerge from hiding. He smiled to look upon it again.
The object was a sculpture of unknown substance depicting a coiled, wormlike entity. The room's lighting was bright enough that the object appeared nearly transparent. He ordered the lights dimmed, smiling as solidity returned to the vermicular object. His eyes ran along the coils as he considered the fortune that had smiled on him.
It had been easy to convince Fletcher to place the object in his care, by telling the Federal Security Agency bureau chief that it needed to be studied. Who better to do so than himself chief technical adviser to the FSA's top-secret Dark Glass program? No one among the agency's magicians could mulch Van Dieman's expertise, which was not surprising since half of them were charlatans. In its attempt to learn about and control the magic that was rising all around, the federal government had been less selective in recruiting for Dark Glass than it might have been, but even among the true magicians of Dark Glass, no one could offer a better chance of unraveling the object's secrets.
Of course, Van Dieman already understood some of those secrets; but his knowledge had come, not from study of the object, but from the cult of which he was a part. That cult, the Followers of the Glittering Path, understood what this object was for. They knew that it was what they had sought for more than a millennium: the Key. Not just any key, but the Key. The Key of the sacred texts, the Key to the Glittering Path. The key to power!
And who had a better claim to it than he? He had spent years learning the ancient ways and readying himself. When Quetzal, the Awaited One, he who had been called Quetzoucouatl, had come, Van Dieman had been ready to bask in his radiance. Van Dieman had exalted the Feathered Serpent and given him the honor due him. Quetzal had approved of Van Dieman's devotion and had seen his worth. Had not the Awaited One, from his own hand, given Van Dieman a taste of the glorious power that was the true follower's reward?
Quetzal had opened the way for him and set him on the path. When Van Dieman had received the sacrament fror~ Quetzal's hand, his mind had been opened to thoughts beyond the ken of the sheep around him. Awakened, he saw more clearly now. He understood Quetzal's role as the Lord of Change. Van Dieman's life was changed by his contact with the Awaited One, as it was to be. Now he knew his role, understood his place in the opening of the Way. He was Quetzal's chosen successor. Had he not received the sacrament from Quetzal's own hand? Who else could say that?
All was moving as the stars decreed. All was becoming as it was meant to be.
Before his sharing with Quetzal, Van Dieman had struggled to maintain his position at the sixth degree. Now the power came easier. Already he had passed the test and achieved fifth degree—as high as Ryota Nakaguchi had ever achieved—and he was ready for fourth. Magical power meant political power among the Followers of the Glittering Path, and political power within the secret cabal meant secret but potent influence in the mundane world—influence that Van Dieman had used to engineer his own promotion within Metadynamics, as Nakaguchi had done for himself within the Mitsutomo megacorporation. Van Dieman intended not simply to equal Nakaguchi's successes, but to exceed them.
Quetzal's awakening had been Nakaguchi's greatest success, but ultimately his downfall. There was no denying that the Awaited One had not been exactly what the followers had been expecting. The teacher and guide of whom they had dreamed had turned out to be a tyrant, shaking the foundations of the followers' beliefs. Like Van Dieman, Nakaguchi had chafed under their new master. The overshadowing of Nakaguchi's power among the followers had prompted him to act, in an attempt to contain the threat posed by Quetzal. It was a logical and necessary rebellion, but one launched too soon. The Followers of the Glittering Path had spent centuries honing patience as one of their most valuable tools, something Nakaguchi had forgotten. The gleam of the path shining through the gray dawn of this new age of magic had blinded Nakaguchi with its promise of power, and he had
led hastily. He had paid for his impatience.
But the followers had paid a price as well. Quetzal was gone now, and with him the opportunity to learn from the Awaited One. But from each loss a good businessman finds a way to gain.
With Quetzal's passing the followers had also lost the brilliant mind behind the plans Quetzal had set in motion. Their councils remained divided about what to do next. But there were clues in their holy books, in what Quetzal had ordered done in his brief time among them, and in the key that Quetzal had uncovered. Especially in the key. Van Dieman's eyes caressed the twisted sculpture. There were secrets in the subtle, sinuous curves of the key, secrets that he was teasing out. Already he knew that the Awaited One and the Strong One of the texts were not the same person. The Strong One who would arise and lead the faithful had not yet come to his power.
But he would.
Van Dieman's time was coming. Already his team of specialists, monitoring Quetzal's magical resonators, had observed patterns in their functions. The secrets were unfolding. The resonators were enhancers, lenses to concentrate the effects of mundane processes. One exaggerated effect was already clear at the strongest focal point. There, at the bottom of the world, the rate of ozone depletion in the upper atmosphere was increasing. It was a sign. The spreading of industrial decay, what the prophet Luciferius had railed the man-blight, was a major sign that the time of the Opening was soon to come. Soon harbingers would arrive, die heralds of the new age, and he, Anton Van Dieman, the Strong One, heir to the mantle of Quetzal, would be waiting to honor them and to receive their benisons and gifts of gratitude.
For Van Dieman, Nakaguchi's folly would become a blessing.
For Pamela Martinez, Nakaguchi's folly might become a blessing.
Or a curse.
The Quetzal incident h
ad gained notice within the Keiretsu, especially when the fool Nakaguchi had managed to get himself killed by his resurrected monster. His actions had imperiled Pamela by exposing her secret Charybdis Project. No longer was she able to hide from her superiors her investigations into paranormal occurrences and the resurgence of magic. Nakaguchi would have a last use, however: she intended to lay all the improper secrecy at his door.
In his brief reign over the project, Nakaguchi had tumbled it into a shambles and perverted it from what Pamela had begun. She was still reassembling the pieces and trying to make sense of the chimera Nakaguchi had left her. Sheila Rearden, her best computer jockey, was still teasing her way into Nakaguchi's files, uncovering more and stranger data with every file she cracked. Already it was clear that Nakaguchi had made connections in occult circles that gave him access to information unknown to project researchers. Some of that information would be most useful in refocusing the project.
If she was allowed to continue.
There was still a chance. It had turned out that Nakaguchi had been acting on his own, without the knowledge or approval of Mitsutomo-sama. Pamela had used that fact to the fullest when her superiors had called for a full report on the Quetzal incident. She had been given an opportunity to distance herself from the disaster and she intended to take advantage of it.
The Mitsutomo board had assembled on the telenet to hear her report. Her strategy had been to cast Nakaguchi as a rogue and loose cannon responsible for the project's improprieties, while painting herself as the loyal company servant who sought to protect the Keiretsu's interests. She could not' conceal that she had been instrumental in the direction of the
charybdis Project, but Passerelli in Relations had helped her prepare her report, putting things in the best possible light, and Rearden had provided credible data trails involving directives from Nakaguchi in place of Pamela's own orders. She had made her presentation to the board, and now she could only hope that she had put the right spin on it.
Sitting and waiting in her office while the board considered her report made her feel as if she were waiting in a judgment dock; which, of course, she was, though her office was infinitely more comfortable. She still felt uneasy.
At last her wallscreen brightened as her node was relinked with the conference. A rank of subscreens showed a head-and shoulders shot of each of the board members. Each and every one of them held his or her expression impassive and Inscrutable.
"We must put the past behind us," said Kenji Kabashima.
Though Kabashima did the talking, his words were those of the elderly gentleman pictured on the screen to the left of Kabashima's: Hiroto Mitsutomo, the lord and master of Mitsutomo Corporation, the head of the greatest and most powerful of the world's megacorporations. The old man's participation in this vid conference was an honor.
Such honors had ended careers before now. She kept her expression correctly neutral.
"Your presentation on the Charybdis Project has been enlightening," Kabashima continued.
Not surprising, considering that the project had been Pamela's secret before it had become Nakaguchi's secret.
"Naturally, with such a complex subject, the ramifications will take some time to understand. For the moment, however, all the obvious questions appear to have been answered."
Not Pamela's. Was she still part of the Mitsutomo family?
Kabashima looked down, at a screen Pamela knew to be inset in the console in front of him. He would be receiving instructions there. The private screen allowed communication between master and mouthpiece without the embarrassing possibility of being overheard by other participants in the conference.
"At this time, Ms. Martinez," he began, "the board of Mit-sutomo Corporation would like to express its gratitude for the efficient way in which you have attended to Mitsutomo's interests. The situation is, perhaps, not the best, but some matters are beyond any person's control. This is a fact of life that must be accepted. Your dedication to the interests of the corporation is commendable."
Pamela bowed her head in humble acceptance of the compliment. The bow gave her a chance to hide the grin of relief that threatened to overwhelm her face.
"Mitsutomo's interests are our interests," Duncan Middleton said. Duncan was Pamela's personal assistant, and he had her confidence. He also had a screen much like Kabashima's prompter with which she could guide him if necessary, but she wasn't planning to use it. She would have preferred speaking for herself, but there were protocols that one observed when dealing with Mitsutomo-sama. The old man was quite conservative in some respects.
"Much has been done in connection with this Charybdis Project, but the matters involved seem to breed questions. Clearly, there is a continuing need of answers," Kabashima said. "Data are power, as Gates-sama might say. Mitsutomo Corporation is always in search of useful data."
"The Charybdis Project, if continued, seems likely to provide much useful data," Duncan said.
"Indeed, that is the opinion of the board as well. Ms. Martinez is hereby appointed kansayaku for the Charybdis Project. The project will continue under the supervision of the Board, with all funding approved directly by Mitsutomo-sama's office."
Pamela couldn't have hoped for a better outcome.
Kabashima leaned toward the video pickup. "Nakaguchi-san misunderstood his role. Such a regrettable error is unlikely to occur again, neh?'
"Highly unlikely," Duncan replied.
In other words, Charybdis was Pamela's, but Pamela was Milsutomo's. She understood that. It was an arrangement she could live with.
IThis has been a most productive conference," Kabashima
Mid.
Most productive," Duncan agreed. Alter the requisite courtesies closed the conference, Pamela opened the monitoring line where Sheila Rearden waited.
"Recall your recording and enhance the reflections in K nbashima's eyes. I doubt the old man is unsophisticated enough to have sent his orders in the clear, but I want to be sure We can at least record the codes he uses." "Roger-double-dodger, boss lady." A most productive conference indeed.
CHAPTER 6
Putting down the coffee mug, Steve said, "Here you go, Gil. Radar says we've got a storm coming in."
"Thanks," Gil replied, taking possession of the steaming mug. It might be late spring down here, but spring in Antarctica was still too damn cold. She was supposed to be used to it by now. Well, at least the coffee was hot. Life-giving, healing warmth slid down her gullet as she swallowed. "A storm, you say?"
"Outer edge is coming across the Victoria Land now. Smart money says it'll be here in two hours, tops."
Steve might be military, but as a meteorologist he knew his stuff. Gil wasn't going to bet against him. "We've got two teams between Vickie and here. Should we call them in?"
"Put the word out. Sharon and her people will be able to make it back here no problem, but Jemal's team doesn't have a prayer. They'll have to batten down where they are. He should have listened to me when I told him he was going out too early. Call him first. They'll need all the time they have to get ready."
Why did Gil have to have commo duty just now? Dr. Jemal Dickinson was not someone she liked dealing with at the best of times. He wouldn't like losing time to the storm; he and his team had lost all of last season to storms. Alighieri, Dickinson's tel-op robot probe, was an expensive toy to have sitting around doing nothing when it was sup-
posed to be exploring volcanic craters and the corp sponsors didn't like to see their toys sitting around doing nothing. Of course the scientists riding herd on Alighieri didn't like sitting around, either, but they didn't sign the paychecks so their yelps wouldn't matter much. Just like last year.
Gill pulled up the communications link to Dickinson's remote. Signal monitors flashed to life on the edges of her screen showing the status of individual data streams piggybacking on the main transmission. The direct communications link was dark, and would stay that way until someone responded. Resignedly, Gil kept punch
ing the call button,she watched the flashing digits and squiggly lines of the data monitors. Seeing that the video feed from the probe's cam-eras was running, she set up a subscreen to display the video transmission. The fuzzy false-color images from the probe's camera were more interesting than digital and graphical read-outs. She punched the call button some more, and watched jumpy pictures of shadowy rocks until Dickinson answered. As, she expected, he wasn't happy about being interrupted. And when she told him about the storm, he had some very colorful things to say, finishing with, "Alighieri's already running."
She knew that. "Can you call it back?"
"Don't be ridiculous. The sky is clear here."
If Steve was right, it wouldn't stay that way. "I thought I was being prudent by telling you."
I le started to tell her what he really thought that she was being, but a call from off-camera interrupted him. "Dr. Dickinson! I think you ought to see this."
"What now?" Exasperation filled Dickinson's voice.
"There's something strange going on around Alighieri."
Without a word to her, Dickinson left the range of the video pickup. Gil felt a bit exasperated herself. She checked Alighieri's video screen. Dickinson's team member was right. it looked as if something was moving near the probe. The images didn't make any sense to Gil and before she could puzzle them out, the image darkened and faded to black. She checked the feed. Nothing.
Dr. Dickinson got back on the line. "McMurdo Station, are you getting video?"
"Negative. Other data feeds are okay. What happened?"
"We're not sure. Are you seeing any other changes?"
"There's a slight but steady drop in ambient temperature. Air pressure's down too."
"Yes, yes. We're getting that too. Anything else?"
"Care to give me a clue as to what I'm looking for? Probe telemetry is not my field."
"Stand by." He was gone again.
Robert Charrette - Arthur 03 - A Knight Among Knaves Page 6
