Jason Whitehurst pulled on his beard. "Just the one man?"
"Absolutely, his name's Greg Mandel, and he'll have an assistant with him. They'll arrive in an ordinary civil Pegasus. Your landing pad can accommodate that."
"Very well, Julia. I'll see him." He held up a warning finger. "Nothing more. If your financial offer proves acceptable, he can take Fielder with him when he leaves. If not, you will have to compete with your rivals on a level pitch."
Julia leant forwards, schooling her face into an earnest expression. "Thank you, Jason. But please take care, at least suspend your dealings with anyone else until after Greg Mandel arrives. I don't want them finding out where you are, you're too valuable to me right now."
"I appreciate the concern, Julia. Don't worry about me." His image blanked out.
Julia let out a heavy breath, staring round the study, not really seeing it. Whenever she did have to work at Wilholm, she always used the study. With its dark panelling, chilly stone mantelpiece, and sombre glass-cased books it had the right air of sobriety. The decisions taken in here…
Atta girl, Philip Evans said. Once Greg and Suzi get out to the Colonel Maitland, old Jason's going to find his options decreasing rapidly. You did exactly the right thing.
Thank you, Grandpa. He always seemed to know when she was down. Although the mix of tension and depression that was wiring up her muscles must have given him a strong clue.
She fed the desk terminal the code for a secure link to Greg's cybofax. When his face appeared there were some small cuts on his cheeks, a splash of blue dermal seal near one eye. He was trying to damp down a scowl.
She sucked in her lower lip. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not Greg hardlining. She had promised Eleanor that, promised herself. All she wanted was Royan. "Dear Lord, are you all OK?" Victor had mentioned there had been trouble at the Prezda, a tekmerc called Reiger; but nothing about Greg being injured.
"Yeah, more or less. I don't know what sort of commendations Victor hands out, but Malcolm Ramkartra earned his today."
She just nodded meekly at the screen.
Greg seemed to relent. "I guess we were lucky, nothing a first aid kit can't patch up." He dropped his voice. "But you've gone and dumped Suzi straight into a blood vendetta. This Reiger bloke is a right fucking loony, and no messing. Two of his team were killed, and he blames Suzi for the whole shooting match. That's serious trouble, Julia. People like this, it ain't over till one of them's snuffed."
"Whatever she needs, Greg, she's got it, you know that."
"Yeah, but you know Suzi, she won't take it." His voice was still low, almost inaudible.
"Then Victor will just have get rid of Reiger for her," she heard herself saying.
"Right." He looked loaded up with remorse, like she felt.
"I've got you the co-ordinates of Jason Whitehurst's airship. And more, he's agreed to meet you and Suzi as my representatives."
"Hey, well done."
She ordered the terminal to squirt the co-ordinates over to the Pegasus. "Not entirely good news, Greg. When I called, he was getting ready to sell Charlotte Fielder to the highest bidder."
"Christ. Just how many groups are we playing against?"
"I don't know. But you can tell Suzi that crack of hers about acquiring starship technology is starting to look uncomfortably true. I've been getting some pretty strange offers from kombinates and other major-league players today, all concerning some radical technology. Our alien isn't entirely the big hush we thought it was. I'd say the first one to reach Royan is going to hit the technological jackpot. That's why you're experiencing all this heat."
"Great," he said sourly. "At least I know why I'm being shot at."
"I don't care what price Whitehurst puts on Fielder, Greg. But you've got to come back with her. The ident card we gave you is linked directly to the company's main account, so pay him whatever he asks and don't worry about it. Besides, I don't think he really understands what he's gone and got himself involved in. Unless that airship is armed like a destroyer, he's seriously underestimated how eager we all are to get our hands on Charlotte Fielder."
"OK, Julia, it's your money. And please try to find out who we're up against. If we know, we can watch them, find out what their moves are."
"I'll do what I can."
"OK, I'll call you after we get Fielder."
She ordered the phone off.
Access Security File: Reiger, Leol; Tekmerc. She closed her eyes and let the profile open out in her mind. Victor had assembled a surprisingly large amount of information on the tekmerc, including a psychological report. Greg had been right, Leol Reiger's mentality bordered on sociopathic.
That's a mean-looking bugger, Juliet. What're you planning on doing about him?
Leol Reiger's deals seemed to glow like blue neon in the formless grey mist of the node interface; the number of fatalities involved, those confirmed plus estimates. Forty-eight in the last nine years. Rumours of more, when he was just an ordinary hardliner, before he came to Victor's attention as a deal maker.
Exactly what I told Greg. Turn Victor loose on him. But that'll take time, for the moment I want to know who's hired him.
Assemble Personality Package.
She was back in the isolation of the 'ware universe, the blank depthless emptiness. Her processor nodes were integrating the package, following the formula Royan had devised; freezing and copying specific segments of her thought patterns, digitizing them.
In its compressed, dormant, state she could access the composite's multiple data planes, all neatly folded in on each other; sequences of memory, response logic, identity, motivation. They were slices of her mind, the crucial portions; subconscious inhibitions and emotional reticence rooted out, discarded. It was a streamlined edition of her own mentality.
Julia formulated her instructions carefully, loading them into the personality package. She withdrew, leaving herself alone with Leol Reiger's sleazy profile. Her eyes flicked open, reducing the profile to a smoky shadow overlaying the warm browns of the study.
A representation of the personality package was floating in one of the terminal's cubes, a dark green sphere with a multi-segmented surface, reminding her of an insect eye.
She began to type on the terminal, summoning up a finance transfer order, then entered Leol Reiger's Zurich bank account number, reading it direct from his profile.
You're giving Leol Reiger ten thousand Eurofrancs? her grandfather asked.
That's right. She watched the representation of the transfer order form in the cube, a translucent blue starfish. Easiest way I know of accessing the bank's mainframe. The arms of the starfish were closing around the personality package.
Bloody hell, I don't know what the world's coming to.
There was no sign of the intricately nicked green sphere; its surface had been covered by a smooth blue shell. Julia tested the assembled composite with a couple of security probe programs. Its integrity held.
You know a better way? she asked.
No. A mental sigh accompanied the admission.
Right, then. She tapped the download key, and the data composite squirted into Leol Reiger's Zurich bank.
Julia made a brief kissing motion after it. There was a nostalgic thrill in watching it go. She hadn't done any serious hotrodding for years. If only the conspiracy theorists knew. Julia Evans's hobby was criminal data piracy. They'd have a field day with that one.
She could have routed the request through Victor's division, put pressure on the bank to squirt over Leol Reiger's account data. Corporate entities did co-operate to a reasonable degree, especially with regard to tekmercs. But Zurich banks still clung to their independence. It would take a lot of pressure, and time.
A hiss of compressors penetrated the window. She turned to see the Pegasus carrying Victor Tyo and Dr Parnell lifting off the lawn. The scene looked vaguely surreal, like something out of a five-star resort advert; all it lacked was a couple of smiling models posing at a
table by the pool, sipping something potent and cool.
Julia ran her hands through her hair, and turned back to the terminal. Time to find out just how widespread the knowledge of atomic structuring was. With at least two other groups chasing after Royan, she was starting to wonder exactly how many routes there were to the alien.
The terminal accessed Event Horizon's main communication network for here and she loaded a cut-off program at the junction. If anyone tried to backtrack her call the best they'd be able to come up with was English Telecom's Peterborough exchange. She entered the Gracious Services number.
There was no phone on the other end; England's hacker circuit had illegal catchment programs loaded into every exchange in the country. It pulled out her call and plugged her straight in.
There was a nervous flicker across her terminal's flatscreen, then it printed:
WELCOME TO GRACIOUS SERVICES.
WE AIM TO PLEASE
DATA FOUND, OR MONEY RETURNED.
NO ACCESS TOO BIG OR TOO SMALL.
JUST REMEMBER OUR CARDINAL RULE:
DO NOT ASK FOR CREDIT!!!
PLEASE ENTER YOUR HANDLE.
Julia thought for a moment; she hadn't actually used the circuit from this side before. Royan had signed her on as a novice hotrod when he was teaching her to write dark programs, saying the experience would do her good. She had run several burns against various companies and government departments, competing against the other hotrods for the client's money. It was a race, the one who pulled the data first cleaned up, minus the umpire's cut. Competition sharpened her mind to a considerable degree.
She grinned furtively and typed: MARIE ANTOINETTE.
GOOD AFTERNOON, MARIE ANTOINETTE YOUR
UMPIRE IS BLUEPRINCE. WHAT SERVICE DO YOU REQUIRE?
BULLETIN BOARD.
ALL RIGHT MARIE ANTOINETTE, THERE ARE ELEVEN
HOTRODS PLUGGED IN, AND EACH OF THEM HAS A
MEMORY CORE LOADED WITH BASEBORN BYTES. WHAT
DO YOU WANT TO KNOW?
ONE) HOW MANY COMPANIES ARE PLUGGED INTO ATOMIC STRUCTURING TECHNOLOGY?
TWO) ARE ANY OF THEM IN POSSESSION OF THE THEORY FOR CONSTRUCTING A NUCLEAR FORCE GENERATOR?
THREE) WHAT IS THE ORIGIN OF ATOMIC STRUCTURING TECHNOLOGY? I WILL ACCEPT ORIGIN RUMOURS IF HARD FACTS ARE UNAVAILABLE.
Her message stayed on the flatscreen for over a minute before it cleared.
I'M NOT QUITE SURE WHAT YOU WANT US FOR, MARIE ANTOINETTE, SIX HOTRODS HADN'T EVEN HEARD OF ATOMIC STRUCTURING. AND THOSE THAT DO SAY THEIR BYTES AREN'T GOING TO COME CHEAP. ATOMIC STRUCTURING IS THE BIGGEST ULTRA-HUSH TECHNOLOGY SINCE EVENT HORIZON CRACKED THE GIGACONDUCTOR.
"And don't I know it," she murmured, then typed: I UNDERSTAND BLUEPRINCE. DEAL FOR ME, PLEASE.
OK, THEY DONT HAVE MUCH, SO WHAT THEY'LL DO IS POOL WHAT THEY HAVE GOT. I'LL TABULATE FOR YOU, BUT IT'S A FLAT FEE SIXTY THOUSAND POUNDS NEW STERLING EACH, AND YOU TAKE THE RISK THAT THE DATA IS REPLICATED FIVE TIMES. ARE YOU STILL INTERESTED?
I'M INTERESTED.
YOU CHOSE YOURSELF A GOOD HANDLE, MARIE ANTOINETTE. PLEASE DEPOSIT THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS NEW STERLING INTO TIZZAMUND BANK, ZURICH, ACCOUNT NUMBER WRU2384ASE.
You're not actually going to pay them, are you, Juliet? Her grandfather asked.
Her hands poised over the terminal keys. "Fraid so. I need to know how widespread this knowledge is. And I need to know quickly. This is the simplest way. Whatever information is floating around, the circuit will have plugged into it. They're very good, you know.
I wish I still had a bed. I wouldn't have bothered getting out of it this morning. Actually paying these criminals, bloody hell in my day they would have been rounded up and forced to hand the information over. Cattle prods wouldn't come amiss.
Julia giggled and authorized the credit transfer from one of her Cayman slush funds.
YOUR CREDIT IS STAGGERING, MARIE ANTOINETTE. I HOPE IT WAS WORTH IT. HERE'S YOUR BULLETIN:
THE FOLLOWING COMPANIES ARE NOW KNOWN TO POSSESS THE BEHAVIOURAL EQUATIONS OF THE STRONG NUCLEAR FORCE: DASTEIN, JOHNA THANHEWIT SEIMENS, BOEING, MUTIZEN, MITSUBISHI, SPARAVIZ, RENAULT GLOBECAST HONDA, GENERAL ELECTRIC, EVENT HORIZON, EMBRAER, SMB, MIKOYAN, AND ROCKWELL. IN ADDITION, THE DEFENCE MINISTRIES OF THE FOLLOWING COUNTRIES ARE ALSO IN POSSESSION OF THE BEHAVIOURAL EQUATIONS: AUSTRALIA, BRAZIL, CHINA, CANADA, ENGLAND, FRANCE, GERMANY, JAPAN, RUSSIA, USA, SOUTH AFRICA, AND TAIWAN. THE SENIOR STAFF OF ALL SEVEN MAJOR DEFENCE ALLIANCES HAVE NOW BEEN INFORMED OF THE EXISTENCE OF THE EQUATIONS, AND THEIR IMPLICATIONS.
Julia sat up in the chair, consternation acting like a static charge crawling over her skin. Dear Lord, can you read that, Grandpa?
Too bloody true I can read it, Juliet. What the hell do those prats in commercial intelligence think they're pissing about at? Are they on strike, for Christ's sake?
I don't know, she told him wearily. We never heard even a whisper, nothing. And why hasn't the English MOD been in contact with us?
AS TO THE ORIGIN OF THE ORIGINAL EQUATIONS:
TWO-THIRDS OF THE COMPANIES LISTED ARE KNOWN TO HAVE BEEN APPROACHED BY GLOBECAST. THEY WERE OFFERED A PARTNERSHIP IN THE MARKETING AND PRODUCTION OF ATOMIC STRUCTURING TECHNOLOGY IN RETURN FOR GLOBECAST PROVIDING THEM WITH THE GENERATOR THEORY. MOST OF THE SUBSEQUENT DEALS BEING STRUCK BETWEEN COMPANIES ARE CONCERNED WITH SHARING THE DEVELOPMENT COSTS OF SUCH A GENERATOR. THIS WOULD IMPLY THAT GLOBECAST IS IN SOLE POSSESSION OF THE THEORY WHICH WILL ALLOW CONSTRUCTION OF THE NUCLEAR FORCE GENERATOR. I HOPE THAT'S WHAT YOU WANTED TO SEE, MARIE ANTOINETTE.
HOW LONG HAS GLOBECAST BEEN OFFERING PARTNERSHIPS FOR? she typed.
THREE DAYS. THE FINAL BIDS ARE TO BE SUBMITTED WITHIN TWO DAYS, AND THE HIGHEST BID TO BE ANNOUNCED TWELVE HOURS LATER.
THANK YOU, BLUEPRINCE
PLEASURE'S ALL MINE. THE NEXT TIME YOU PLUG INTO THE CIRCUIT YOU ASK FOR ME, I'LL GET YOU THE BEST DEALS GOING. BLUEPRINCE SIGNING OFF.
The terminal screen reverted to its menu display. Julia focused on a spot just in front of the flatscreen, lifted out of time. She didn't even have to run the data through the logic matrix function of her processor nodes. Globecast was obviously being used as some kind of distribution agent, almost an auctioneer. Although it didn't have a monopoly, Mutizen proved that. Eduard Muller wouldn't have offered her a partnership unless he could produce the generator theory.
Two sources. Two aliens?
She let the real world claim her back. Her personality package had returned to the terminal. She scanned the read-out and laughed. It had squirted itself out of the bank's mainframe by transferring nine hundred thousand Eurofrancs from Leol Reiger's account back to Event Horizon's finance division. There was a total of fifty-seven Eurofrancs left in his account.
You have an evil mind, Juliet, even in its salami version.
And who did I inherit it from?
She began to read Reiger's account statement. The last deposit had been made two days ago, for two hundred and fifty thousand Eurofrancs. There was no name, just an account number for another Zurich bank, the Eienso.
We have a result from the memory core of bay F37, NN core one reported. There was a strange sense of confusion and high spirits in the tone. You'll want to access this.
Wait one, Julia said. She reprogrammed her personality package, and squirted it into the Eienso's mainframe. Go ahead.
There was a data package waiting in the manor's 'ware for her. Its guardian program was solid, no probe programs could break in.
Most of the files listed as stored in the assembly bay's memory core are fabrications, NN core one said. According to the Institute's administrative records, bay F37 was being used to assemble a fish breeding pen filter for New London during the time Kiley was being built. But when we opened a channel direct to the bay's core to access the suspect files, we found the package stored inside. It squirted directly into Wilholm's 'ware, knew all the third-level access codes.
Query identity? she shot at the quiescent package.
; Request Snowy access, it replied.
"Royan." She said it out loud, but she couldn't hear her own voice. Sorry, Grandpa, I need the processor capacity.
Yeah, all right, he grumbled. But you still owe me a visit to the gardens, and a hug for each of the children.
I won't forget. Wipe OtherEyes. She felt him go, a spectre slipping out of her consciousness. His absence left her with a slight taste of regret in her mind. Initiate Processor Node One Data Isolation/Examination Procedure. Load Data Package.
The package squirted into her processor node, and the interfaces sealed, isolating it inside. She had written the data-bus guardian program herself, if anything tried to broach the barrier the processor would wipe instantly. Her three memory nodes contained a vast amount of confidential data, as well as indexing the personal recollections she treasured, she wasn't about to risk any kind of virus attack.
Open Integrity Monitored Link to Processor Node One.
It would mean a millisecond delay in communication while her second processor node analysed the package's output, searching the downloaded bytes for a Trojan program.
She ran a quick review of processor node one's management layout. The package had expanded to fill all the available capacity, but there had been no attempt to insinuate itself in the management routines.
Hello, Royan, she sent.
Snowy His smile filled her mind, flooding her synapses with warmth and longing, triggering a cascade of poignant associations. She sagged in the study's chair, sniffing hard.
The Nano Flower gm-3 Page 24
