I winced.
“You gave him a tough assignment, didn’t you?”
“One of the toughest. He’s always been covering the multis, but I asked him to look into the movement to make multilaterals more profitable and accountable to stakeholders and to find out what was behind it.”
“The PST Trust stuff?” I nodded.
“I warned him, and I told him to do as much as he could through more distant research.”
“Do you have the assignment sheet? It’s not in the system.”
“None of them are.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“None of the pre-selects would ask any of you, or think that anything important wouldn’t be there.”
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on, ser, or do you want me to guess?”
“A war, of sorts,” I offered. “It all started when someone tried to kill me, and then someone else tried, and then someone else” I gave him a quick and dirty summary because he’d heard it, but not where it led, exactly. “Like a lot of people, I went to the CAs. They couldn’t find anything. They also insisted that they couldn’t investigate people just because they had a motive.” My smile was lopsided as I looked at Tal. “Does this sound familiar?”
“I’ve heard it before.”
“So I started looking into it more, and my sister was killed. So was a norm helping her, or maybe she was helping him. That was Eldyn Nyhal.”
Tal offered a low whistle.
“You know about the latest events. The CAs can’t find anything, and the regional advocate general has contacted me twice already, warning me that he doesn’t like my approach to things … all very indirect and most legal, but what it amounts to is that he’s looking for any legal ground he can to stop us. Then, in the middle of all this, I began to follow the perceptual testing uproar, and I started to look at who controlled what.”
“It’s a wonder you’re still alive.” Tal laughed. “Is that why the managing director is in Westeuro?”
“You surely don’t believe that I’d send a noted pre-select who wanted to take over UniComm after my father’s death to Westeuro?” I snorted. “Anyway, for better or worse, I began to see that what I was facing was just a tiny piece of what gifted norms face their whole lives.”
“What about normal norms?”
“I have to admit that I’m an elitist, Devit. People who like porn-draggies and shows like Challenge of the Wild or Modern Gladiators aren’t going to change. I just want any children with talent, wherever they come from, to have the opportunities, and I don’t want the children of pre-selects to get the guideways tilted even more in their favor. You can inspire people, but you can’t force them. So … I thought I’d try to stir things up … to shine some very bright lights into some very dark corners — all at once, and into lots of corners, so that the insects and parasites can’t scuttle from one corner to another.”
“I’m about finished with what you gave me. Can I take over Mahmad’s assignment?”
“If you’d like, I’d be more than pleased. Here’s the outline.” I pulled out the assignment sheet and extended it to him. “Do you want some extra help?”
Tal shook his head. “I think what you’re doing, ser, is going to create uprisings all over the world. You’re dangerous, because you’re the first Alwyn who really understands how to use UniComm fully. That’s why OneCys and the pre-selects are after you.” He offered a cold smile. “I’m not even sure I like you. But you’re the only ship on course. If they stop you, they can stop anyone.”
“I appreciate your ringing vote of confidence, Devit.”
“Like all your folk, ser, you’re arrogant. Like none I’ve seen, you’re honest, and you judge on ability.”
I wanted to wince, but he was probably right. So I nodded. “I try.”
“Director … I’m going to do this. I’ll do it better than even Mahmad. And your project will work. It’s too late to do anything else, now, and I hope we’re not too late. But after they count the bodies, I want you to remember that you used people just like every other pre-select before you. The only difference is that you put your life on the line. You chose to. A lot of people are going to die who didn’t get a choice.”
“I hope there won’t be many. If we don’t do something like this, I don’t think many people, norms or pre-selects, are going to have many good choices.”
“That’s arrogance, Director.” Tal actually sighed. “Maybe truthful arrogance, but arrogance.”
Could anyone with ability not have a touch of what others called arrogance? “You could be right. Do you have a better idea?”
His laugh was almost a bark. He lifted the assignment sheet. “If I did, I wouldn’t be taking this. You were right about who to trust. We told everyone to keep the assignments among us. I’d suggest you move up your start date to next sixday, before week-end.”
“Can we have enough ready?”
“We will. Those that aren’t, cover with reruns of the ones we have. You’ll need overlap anyway. And don’t tell anyone.”
“I haven’t, and I won’t.” That was for certain. I hadn’t even told Mother, although she definitely knew I was up to something.
I stood and looked out over the inner courtyard for a long time after Tal left.
Once more, I was feeling like a very black raven trying to find sunlight in the cracks and crannies of a tall dark cliff guarded by sharp-eyed eagles with long and grasping claws.
* * *
Chapter 77
Kewood
* * *
Two days had passed since my disturbing meeting with Devit Tal, and I was still thinking about his charge that I was no different from the other pre-selects in using people. That was bad enough, but his absolute honesty in saying he would do the job — because, in effect, all other alternatives were worse — that was in some ways even more disturbing. From what I could tell, he was telling the truth, and that meant I was either reading people wrong and he was lying, or that he was honestly mistaken about the potential impact of my massive programming shift. I was just hoping that I could get a few key people to look into dark corners and undo the subtle shifts in Federal Union policy — and, of course, get the PST group to back off me and UniComm. Scarcely revolutionary, and I’d figured it would take concentrated information and programming shifts even to accomplish those modest goals, for all my high-flown rhetoric.
From what I’d seen, people didn’t change easily, and they certainly didn’t trust the media even as they consumed what we provided.
The gatekeeper clinged. I had to smile, since the ID was that of Klevyl. I took it.
“Klevyl … it’s good to hear from you.”
The leonine-maned engineer smiled in return, but only briefly. “What did you do to Emyl Astol? He’s been contacting everyone, looking for anything he could pin on you.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It’s like he almost wants you so embarrassed no one will never talk to you or listen to you again. And you just say it’s too bad.” Klevyl shook his head. “Sometimes, I don’t understand you.”
“It’s actually fairly simple. After a couple of monoclones blew up, either killing people or nearly killing them, I started looking into it. I haven’t heard anything until you called. That suggests to my suspicious mind that he has something to hide.”
“I can’t believe Emyl would allow the misuse of clones. That would destroy BGP,” Klevyl pointed out.
“He doesn’t control their use after delivery — or their misuse — but it would still come back to haunt him … no matter what.”
“It could be. He took a big hit when OS got into the microgene market.”
“OS?” I hadn’t heard that acronym.
“Octagonal Solutions. Eldyn Nyhal. They say some trust is holding it, letting the management continue.”
I hoped my face didn’t show too much shock. “I didn’t know he was doing that. Eldyn, I mean.”
“The man was brilliant, Dary
n. You know he stopped the pre-select plague almost single-handedly. Too bad he wasn’t around this last time.”
“I heard that he was killed in the violence in the Sinoplex.”
Klevyl snorted. “Someone used that as cover. Just like they used your accident as cover.” He smiled, a smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth. “I don’t see much change in UniComm, not so much as I would have expected.”
“One-man operations can be more flexible than organizations. I suspect you know that already.” I laughed, although it sounded hollow.
“That’s true, but don’t wait too long.” There was another quick smile. “I need to go. Bidding conference — VR — on a new justiciary complex in Sudam.”
Once Klevyl’s imaged vanished, I linked with Majora. “Everything’s so busy. I forgot to check on the clone business — BGP. Did you have any luck?”
“They referred me to the public records section of the Genetics Regulation Bureau of the Federal Union Secretariat. The records break down shipments by industry sector, but no more, and there’s an asterisk that indicates further data breakdown would result in revealing trade data.”
I took a deep breath. “Our friend Emyl Astol is in with them, I think. He’s been checking with everyone he knows to try to find dirt on me. Can you set up the data we have to show a rather strange pattern … you know … only these sectors use monoclones, and only these firms have permits, and monoclones have been used illegally … therefore …”
“Actually …” The impish smile crossed Majora’s face. “Yes … I was already working on that. The only multis that have permits are headed by old pre-select families, and most of them are controlled by those on Eldyn’s list.”
“Good. We’ll have to get that ready for presentation sooner than I’d thought.”
“I’ve got the data ready. Whenever you’re ready to produce it.…”
“Tonight or tomorrow morning.… it’ll have to be.” Too many things were piling up. “Talk to you later.”
Before we broke, she favored me with a warm smile. Maybe tomorrow morning.
Who else might shed any light on things, who wouldn’t spread it everywhere? I frowned. I hadn’t talked to Kharl for a while.
He answered, or his gatekeeper transferred it, because his image, still somewhat haggard, but in an oversized medical singlesuit, appeared almost immediately.
“How are you doing?”
He smiled, wryly. “I’m fine, but I have a bit more sympathy for patients. It’s been a long climb.”
“What about Grete and the kids?”
“They were fine in days. I told you that.”
“I just wondered … something like that … long-term …”
Kharl shook his head. “I think, if you survive, you’re probably healthier than you were before.”
“Did you ever get any credit for your work on that? I saw some stories … but your name was never mentioned.” I grinned. “Right then I couldn’t do anything. But we could do a follow-up story.”
“I’ll pass on that.” He frowned. “There have been a lot of stories … rumors … nasty stuff … that the plague was created.…”
“Like the version I got? How did you ever meet Eldyn? What did he offer?”
Kharl’s face went blank. Then, he laughed. “Knowing you, you won’t give up. I suppose it’s obvious. To you. Technical assistance and insight. You weren’t supposed to get hit that hard. He helped with the treatment.”
“So you knew Elysa?”
“I’d never met her before the reception. She did want to meet you, and not just for that.”
“Did you know about the plague — that Eldyn was developing it?”
“Not as an epidemic. What he told me was that it was targeted at a few individuals. He wanted to make sure that it wasn’t widespread. Elora told me the same thing. After what she told me about what was happening, and how UniComm was to be used … I’m sure you know.”
Repressing a shiver at the implications, I shook my head, then nodded acknowledgment. No one was telling the whole truth. “Then you got taken, too?”
Kharl nodded. “If I hadn’t had those samples from you … I could have lost Grete and the kids.” He offered a wry smile. “No tracks at all. I couldn’t say more, obviously. There still aren’t really. No evidence, at least.”
Had Eldyn hated pre-selects that much?
“Don’t look so appalled, Daryn. In his eyes, we’re all guilty, and if he hadn’t overdone the virulence on the first strain he tested on you, we’d all be dead.”
“I’ve looked into all of it, but you’re right. There’s really no evidence for any of this.”
“Eldyn followed the pre-select pattern. ‘Leave no fingerprints,’” Kharl pointed out. “How about something more cheerful?”
“Cheerful? With all this?” I forced a laugh, then nodded “There is one thing positive. More than positive. I don’t think I told you. Majora —”
“Congratulations! I heard from Grete, and she heard from Rhedya. You know how those things go. When Grete and I decided, my cousins knew within minutes of our parents. That’s what happens with a worldwide net system.”
“You heard anything else interesting … about UniComm … or your favorite cousin?”
“Not directly. One of my techs is married to a CA in the Yunvil office. The CAs like you. They think someone’s trying to bump you off because you’re actually human. Words to that effect, anyway.”
“Glad to hear it. That I’m actually human, I mean.”
Kharl’s smile dropped. “Be careful, Daryn. I haven’t got a thing to go on, but when people at the club mention your name … well … it gets very chilly.”
“I’m not surprised. I’d appreciate it if you hear anything that’s at all definite. Or indefinite. You owe me.”
“I do, and I certainly will.” He glanced to one side. “I’ve got to go.”
“Talk to you later.” Even before my last words were out of my mouth, the projection holo vanished, and I was looking at the cherry bookcase. I missed looking at the East Mountains, and the inner courtyard garden didn’t help that much.
I stood and paced around in front of the desk to stretch for a moment, noting that the shadows falling across the courtyard were getting long. I hadn’t realized it was that late.
The gatekeeper clinged again, and it was Devit Tal.
“I’m on the move, Director, but there’s more here than you ever imagined. Here comes the first package. I know you can put the facts together if I don’t get more or get back.” The gatekeeper clinged, indicating an attachment, and the screen blanked. Tal had sent both as a time delay, somehow.
I copied the attachment into my portable belt gatekeeper even before I opened it and read it. The first section was an authenticated copy of the stakeholders of the PST Trust. Not only did it have the names I knew — Escher, Dimke, St. Cyril, Deng, and TanUy — but there were another dozen names. The two I recognized most easily were Emyl Astol and Gerrat Alwyn.
Unhappily, Gerrat’s name explained a few other items, such as Tal’s quick transmission. The correspondent had to be leery of sending that through. Gerrat’s name also went a good ways toward explaining the Elora-Kharl-Eldyn alliance. Not totally, but I doubted Kharl knew much more than he told me, and the other two were dead. It was also clear that Elora hadn’t been exactly lily-white. She couldn’t have called the stakeholders’ meeting without either some rather involuted maneuvering or the cooperation of the PST Trust, but there was no evidence of either.
I put a call through to Rhedya.
She had an apron on, and I realized it was probably close to the time she was feeding the children, “How are your efforts going, Daryn?”
“Full speed ahead, but you won’t see anything until they hit. I think we’re getting close. I’ve already had some warning shots fired. I promise you. I’ll make the timetable I gave you.”
“You’ve never broken your word.” Her eyes hardened, almost glittering, but
just for an instant.
“I need to know something, though. Can you look into the portfolio you’re the trustee for, and see if Gerrat had any holdings in something called PST or the PST Trust?”
“Is this connected?”
“I think so. I don’t need to know shares or anything, but if there are any minutes or things like that … they’d be helpful.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Some of those who were after Elora were in that group, and that’s part of what led to Gerrat’s death. There are more of them than I’d first thought.” All of that was perfectly true.
“Whatever it is, you don’t want any escapees?”
“I’d rather not. Would you?”
“No. I don’t have many of those I’d call friends left.”
“I’m sorry. I hope —”
She waved me off. “Friends like that are worse than enemies, and it’s told me, again, how valuable those are who stick by me. I need to get dinner for the children, and knowing you, you need whatever it is yesterday.”
“Not yesterday …” I demurred.
“Daryn. You don’t lie as well as you think. I’ll get what there is.” With that, the projection screen vanished, even before I could shake my head.
I just sat there for a moment, then flicked to OneCys and InstaNews, listening to the opposition while waiting to see if what Rhedya had would arrive.
… regional advocate general denied access to school records on the grounds that the right to know did not outweigh the right to privacy of the individuals … since PIAT testing, even in private schools, was a matter of voluntary choice and not a standard mandated by either local education agencies or by the Federal Union. Fynbek also noted in his denial that Parents for Equal Access had no legal standing since …
The gatekeeper clinged. There was a scan shot of Rhedya and an enclosure.
“Here’s what there was. It seems harmless enough, but I suppose it would if it had to be filed with the Securities Office.”
Rhedya was no dummy, and that bothered me too as I copied and then opened what she had sent. She had to have had some inkling of what Gerrat had been up to. Was she merely supporting me into a fall? Or did she think I was the only one who could preserve what Gerrat had left?
The Octagonal Raven Page 42
