Archform Beauty

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  There were also a few special bequests and donations. The visible estate was large enough so that no one would look deeper. Even if they did, there was nothing that any prudent filch family would not have done. Setting up the transfers and trusts had been far from simple, and had taken years. Now, I only had to worry about insubordinate nephews. "You do good work, Evan. You always have.” I stood. "Good luck with the DPS.” "I'll need it.” He stood slowly. I half clasped him on the back. "Just hang in there. Everything will turn out for the best.” "Thanks, Chris.”

  After McCall left, I linked to Paulina. See if you can get Emile Brazelton here after my meeting with O'Bannon. Put it on the schedule as guideway progress. I always gave Paulina a subject for each meeting. Yes, ser.

  The next problem was far simpler. I put through a holo call to Mother. She was where she always was after lunch. She was in her study writing letters the old-fashioned way. She wore another black dress. Outside of the fine lines around her eyes, she could have passed for one of my sisters. "How are you feeling?"

  "As well as ever, Christopher. You don't have to check on me every day.”

  "I can't call my own mother?" I laughed. It was a running joke.

  "You're good to call. I almost never hear from Kryn, but you and Barbra are always so good. Did you know that she sent over some hand-baked cookies she made? Italian sugar cookies, no less…”

  We talked about cookies, and the children, and about how so many families had no sense of loyalty. After twenty minutes, I said good-bye.

  That gave me time to check the third quarter financial reports on the KC subsidiaries. That was supposedly Poul Therault's job, but I couldn't ask the Vice President of Finance intelligent questions if I hadn't studied his reports.

  Mr. O'Bannon is here, Mr. Kemal.

  Have him come in.

  I stood.

  O'Bannon walked into the office and settled into the chair across from the desk. He gave me a lazy smile. He was a big man with perfect white teeth, set off by his dark skin and short black hair. "Nice office here.”

  "It's not that much bigger than the old one.” I sat down. "How is the Burling project going?"

  "We've managed to acquire the rights to the last three sections. Another week, and everything will be registered.”

  "Under the K2 subsidiary.” I didn't want any confusion about that. K2 handled only real estate. Everything there could have been handed to District Coordinator Dewey, and he couldn't have found a single misplaced comma or a quarter credit unaccounted for. He still would have tried to find something and then complained publicly that we were hiding it.

  "I'm assuming,” O'Bannon said easily, "that there will be a sale at some future date.”

  "Assume all you want, James.” I laughed. "At some point, you'll be right. K2 is a property dealer, and we can't make credits there without selling.”

  I knew what he was thinking. He had to wonder why I wanted farmed-out and reclaimed land in the eastern part of the Denv District. It couldn't be used for agriculture. Development was limited to less than one percent of the total land area. With enough land, one percent was more than enough for a privately owned and operated orbiter base and terminal, and neither the PD or the PDF would be able to do a thing about it.

  "The rumor is that McCall is going to be indicted for murder.” O'Bannon looked squarely at me.

  "If the DPS or the District Advocate thinks he killed his wife, then he will be. I don't speculate on the law, Counselor. That's your expertise.”

  O'Bannon nodded slowly.

  "How is he taking it?"

  "He's very upset. He won't talk to me or to Jose. You know he took Marc Oler and Caron Hildeo with him.”

  "Will that pose a problem?"

  O'Bannon tilted his head. "Until this business with his wife, I wouldn't have said so. Evan has always been extremely professional. I don't even know the details of what he set up for you. As his senior partner, I could have asked, but I felt you preferred matters to be kept… compartmentalized.”

  "It works better that way. Most times.” I shook my head. "Poor bastard. He's lost. He doesn't know what hit him.” He didn't, yet, and it was better that way.

  "It's too bad. He's the best privacy solicitor in NorAm.”

  I nodded. Even the best had their limits. Part of my job was to recognize those limits and deal with them. "What about the co-op agreement with Talemen?"

  "They're willing to sub-license and to ignore any previous infringements.” O'Bannon laughed. "Neither of us is calling it that. They get the royalties on all VR and home entertainment sets. They have exclusive rights in VR production. We have the rights to use the technology in clubs and live performance spaces. They can license it to clubs, but we get the royalties, less a ten percent placement fee.”

  "We'll sign it, if that's what it says.” Most times, I would have pushed for more. At the moment, we'd take what came easy, and look to expand later.

  O'Bannon nodded. "That's what I'd recommend.”

  "Is there anything else I should know about?"

  He frowned. "I can't think of anything.” After a moment, he looked at me. "Is there anything else? I don't want to waste your time.”

  "For now, that's it.”

  We both stood, and I walked around the wide cherry desk. We shook hands, and O'Bannon left.

  Most business leaders wouldn't have seen people in person. Too many relied on link or holo meetings. There's no substitute for sitting across from someone. I caught feelings and hints I couldn't have, even with full VR.

  Before long, Paulina linked in again. Stefan Saul is here.

  I'll come out and get him in a minute.

  I let him wait ten minutes while I checked the legislative status flags. There was nothing we hadn't anticipated. Then I went out to the outer office.

  Stefan was standing, looking out the window toward the Rockies. He wore a dark green singlesuit, and a conservative light green wool jacket. Both were new. He was also without the gold neck chains. My sister Barbra wasn't stupid. She'd clearly seen the look Alyssa had given Stefan at the memorial service.

  "Come in, Stefan.” I smiled and stepped back into the office.

  "Yes, ser.” Stefan was a centimeter or two taller than I was. The way he slouched, he looked shorter.

  After I pulsed the door closed, he started to sit down, almost carelessly. Then he stopped and looked at me.

  "Go ahead.”

  He sat on the dark green leather armchair that was set opposite the far corner of the desk. He didn't look at me, not directly. "You asked to see me, ser.”

  I settled behind the uncluttered desk and waited for a minute, still smiling, before I began. "Your grandfather was very fond of your mother. I'm sure you know that.”

  "I've heard that, Uncle Chris.” Stefan's face said he didn't believe a word.

  "He wanted her, and you and your sisters, not to have to worry financially. That's why he set up the trusts. He also didn't want you to rely on that income for anything more than a generous basic income. That means one thing. If you want a more luxurious way of life, you can't rely on your trust.”

  "Uncle Chris, I just asked about what was in it. Is that a crime?"

  "I understand you also asked if you could sell any of the securities.”

  "I just wanted to know how it worked, ser.”

  I didn't believe that for a minute. "I understand.” I smiled again. "It's really very simple. There are two kinds of securities in all the KCF trusts. Some provide annual income. Some produce longer-term capital growth. It's a balance. The trustee could invest more credits in income-producing securities, but in years to come, you'd have less and less income. Or he could invest in those providing capital appreciation. That way, the value of your trust would be much greater over time, but you'd have very little to live on now.”

  "Ser… with all due respect… the amount that my mother and my sisters and I are receiving amounts to much less than one percent of the value of the trust.�
��

  "That's not surprising, Stefan. Only about ten percent of the holdings are invested in income-producing securities. The majority is invested for longer-term growth. That's so that the capital will be there for your children and your children's children.”

  "So we scrape by so that you—" He stopped abruptly. "I'm sorry, ser.”

  I looked hard at him. "I scarcely think that an annual income of over two million credits is scraping by, Stefan. There are filch in southside who don't have incomes that substantial.”

  "Things are more expensive than when you were young, Uncle Chris. I've tried to be careful, but there's not enough there.”

  Careful? Not enough there? I'd called up his expenditures. He'd purchased two electrals, just in the past year, and a second house in the Redford Preserve. The house had been twenty million by itself. KCF's general trust had taken the mortgage privately, collateralized against his own trust assets, because I hadn't wanted the transaction made public. Stefan didn't know that. He'd just happily signed the papers. He wasn't so happy about the one hundred twenty thousand credits a month coming from his account to repay the mortgage.

  "What do you want from me?" I asked politely. "I'm not the trustee. The trusts are irrevocable. I can't change the terms.”

  "You mean you won't.” He got a pouty look.

  "I can't. Talk to your solicitor.”

  "You picked the family solicitors. You won't give the details to any other solicitors, and the ones you picked won't let me do anything you don't want.”

  I certainly hoped not. That was the whole idea. "They'll tell you exactly what the terms of the trust are. It wouldn't matter what solicitor you talked to. It wouldn't change the terms.” That much was certainly true.

  Stefan didn't say anything. He was trying not to show anger. He was doing a poor job.

  "I don't think we'll ever agree on this, Stefan. It doesn't matter. I can't change the payouts on the trust. You'll just have to figure out how to deal with it.” I stood up.

  He sat in the leather chair for a moment, then abruptly jumped up. "Yes, ser. I will.”

  He was also going to complain to Barbra about how stingy I was. He wasn't about to understand. Nothing I could do would change that.

  Emile Brazelton is waiting, Mr. Kemal.

  Tell him I'll be right with him. I'm almost done here. "If you'll excuse me, Stefan. I have another meeting.”

  "Yes, ser.”

  I followed Stefan out. "Give my best to your mother.”

  He didn't answer. I didn't think he would. He wasn't smart enough.

  I motioned for Brazelton to come in. He looked like an average sariman. Brown hair, brown eyes. Not big, and not small.

  "That was your nephew, wasn't it?" he asked as the door closed behind him.

  "One of them. That was Stefan.” I didn't bother to sit down.

  "You asked for me?"

  "I need another job taken care of. The one we talked about before. He knows enough to figure it out. He isn't sharp enough to know he knows. If he gets into DPS custody, Kirchner could figure it out.”

  "Kirchner won't make trouble.”

  "You know that. So do I. But Cannizaro could. She's got Chiang, too.”

  "You don't like Chiang.”

  "He dated Kryn once, when we were in school and still living in Old Westside. He looked at Father, and he looked at me. He took Kryn out. He was a perfect gentleman. He showed her a wonderful evening. He sent her an old-fashioned note thanking her, and then said that he'd never be in her class. Kryn wouldn't speak to me for a month.”

  "Smart man.”

  "Too smart. Especially now. Cannizaro's put him where he has access to everything.”

  Brazelton frowned and fingered his chin.

  "McCall's distraught,” I said. "He's very upset. If the DPS or the District Solicitor charge him with the murder of his wife, he could do anything. We need quiet right now. He's tough about the law, but he's not tough in any other way.”

  "You think he might commit suicide?"

  I shrugged. "Who knows? He loved her a lot. I understand that. Most people would, I think.” I paused. "We're also working on some angles to straighten out the guideway problem. You may have to give us a hand there.” Brazelton nodded. He wasn't happy, but what choice did he have? Without the buyout of his company, he would have been a permie pushing a broom in northside. The Justiciary doesn't like massive embezzlement and fraud. Now, he made more credits, and his company was prospering, and we kept him on the personal straight and narrow. It was a good deal for everyone.

  "You understand.”

  He nodded again.

  "Let me know.”

  I watched as the door opened and he walked toward it.

  I tried to make deals that benefited everyone. That was the beauty of what I did. I'd learned a long time ago that you can't keep a family or a business going if you're not giving as well as getting.

  It was a pity Stefan hadn't figured that out. I had hoped he would.

  Chapter 11

  Chiang

  Wednesday came. Open file search showed nothing on McCall. Case bothered me. Indictment had been announced, but no details. Homicide wasn't saying anything, except what they had to. McCall even came up clean in the internal DPS file. Nothing. Not an overdue electral registration, an illegal turn, not even an emissions tax penalty for his house. Only public data were scholarly articles on things like the extended right to privacy. Was listed as a speaker at a number of solicitors' professional meetings. Same smiling face every time.

  Checked accidental deaths reported in Denv over the past five years. DPS didn't get all of them. Not one filch.

  Didn't surprise me. True accident, and the filch had doctors and solicitors to take care of the formal stuff. Accident like McCall's wife, same thing happened. So… no report in the DPS files. Servies and pennies—they reported accidents, and most of them were. The filch… I wondered.

  More I saw and read, the more McCall bothered me. But I didn't think it was wise to lean on anyone in DPS. Not on a feeling.

  Looked out my window at the Park. Another sunny day. Been a cloudy winter, and the sun was welcome.

  Direct-linked Resheed's report. ODs remained the same, roughly, up from the year before, but no longer rising. The netless scam numbers were down. Probably would be until the scammers came up with a new angle—in another week or two. The netops section reported the latest ID theft techniques. Read through it, then decided to go over to the other side and talk. I always learned more face-to-face.

  I started to get up from behind the desk. A flash link blazed in from CDC in Lanta. Read through it. Phrases leaped out at me, the kind I didn't want to see.

  * * * *

  Ebol4 strain has appeared in Nyork and Nengland districts… as with ebol3, a pairing of SAD nanites with a modified ebola virus… longer incubation and contagion period… greater risk of spread, particularly among netless or those with only baseline nanomeds… cold weather version thought to have been engineered by Agkhanate Talibanate for use against Russe Hegemony… extraordinarily infectious and will provoke a high fever and occasional convulsions even among populations with full-spectrum nanomeds… greater risk to public safety personnel… recommend additional nano-med boosters for those in close contact with vulnerable populations…

  * * * *

  Another bioweapon coming out of the undeclared West Asian conflicts. All we needed. World Patrol kept the lid on heavy weapons. Recsat systems were good for that. Didn't do null for bioweps.

  Linked with Sarao. CDC flash. Make sure it's an allpers. Patrollers need to take care with low-level invisibles.

  Oh?

  Stet. Didn't explain why, but didn't have to. Yet. Two kinds of invisibles—those removed from the NorAm database illegally, like by Kemal's operation, and those imported from West Asian areas. No point in admitting they existed. Not when DPS couldn't do anything except with the ones we caught.

  Looked back out to the Park, waiting. S
till sunny and green. Not so bad when the snow covered the grass, but felt wrong in late winter and early spring when the trees hadn't leaved out.

  Done, Lieutenant, Sarao linked back.

  Thanks. I stood and walked out of the office.

  Sarao looked up from the consoles. Still needed screens to handle more than one visual input.

  "Going to the other side. Had some questions about the netops report.”

  She nodded.

  The ramps were empty. They should have been. So was the lower lobby off the garage. Could smell a hint of ozone—restraint loops. Always smelled that way when someone was carted in under restraint.

  Passed Sorgio on the way up. Nodded at each other.

  Netops was quiet. Sergeant Darcy was by the consoles.

  "Lieutenant.”

  "Sergeant. I was going through your latest report. Someone else counterfeiting GILs?"

  She offered a professional smile. "It's more elaborate than we'd have suspected. They take a T-samp from the victim, then implant the phony GIL in place of a real one, surrounded by an Isup barrier. The GIL reads positive, and so long as no one takes a samp… it works.”

  "What about the victim?"

  "Disabled, usually, in some sort of accident. Badly mugged, in some cases. Usually high sariman, or independent professional.”

  "Where no one else watches the personal or business accounts closely.”

  "Stet.”

  "Why not dead?" I asked.

  "Then the worldnet closes down that GIL, and the feits can't get at the victim's assets. Usually, it's someone well off and single, but not filch. Filch have barriers, and advocates. And families who get upset at disappearing assets.”

  "How long will this last?"

  "Month… two. Netpros already flooding the nets with the scam stories, and offering services to protect assets. Be too much trouble, and too low a return before long.”

  I nodded slowly, before asking, "You deal with the McCall thing?"

  Her eyes and voice were cold. "That's not a trend, Lieutenant.”

  Gave her a smile. "Not yet. Like to see that it doesn't become one. May be more of one than anyone realizes.”