Archform Beauty

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Marissa sipped her coffee. "They'd say you were self-serving. They will anyway.”

  She was right about that.

  "Barbra and I talked yesterday. She mentioned that you'd had a talk with Stefan about finances.”

  "I did. He went to Mountain Asset Management and got a loan collateralized against his KCF trust. He can't possibly pay the interest for long. We'll have to restructure it into something he can handle.” I snorted. "It's almost blackmail, but I'll have to do it.”

  "Alyssa's good at reading people. She doesn't trust Stefan.”

  "I don't either, but he is family. That's why the trust is irrevocable and lifetime. It's also why I have to put a stop to his borrowing. Ashtay talked to me about a credit block on Stefan. I'd hate to go that far, but if this restructuring doesn't work, we may have to. We'll have to do something.” That was just the way it was.

  "Barbra wouldn't like that, dear. She's very protective of Stefan.”

  I sighed. "That's part of the problem. She's spoiled him.” I refilled my cup. "Would you like some more?"

  "Please, thank you.”

  We both sipped coffee for several minutes.

  "Chris… you're worried, aren't you?"

  "When am I not worried? I've got politicians who don't understand business, and suppliers who don't understand politics. I've got nephews who think that credits are free. I've got a son who's at the age where he thinks that I don't understand anything. You know what's worst of all?" I laughed ruefully.

  Marissa waited. She'd heard it before.

  "I've got it better than most people.” I took a last sip of the coffee. "And I need to get dressed and on my way.” I got up, then walked behind her chair. I bent down and kissed her neck. She always smelled wonderful. "See you tonight.”

  "We're having the D'Abouls for dinner, remember?"

  "I won't be late.” I hoped I wouldn't be. Family was important, and Marissa always had wonderful dinners.

  Chapter 27

  Chiang

  I got into DPS on Wednesday before zero seven hundred. Early for me. Worried about the newsie I had to meet. And about the McCall mess. Sarao was waiting. She had that look.

  "Now what?" I asked.

  "Techs looked at your rez toys. They use more and different rez frequencies/overtones, whatever, and probably destroy hearing twice as fast as standard rezsong. There's a possibility of some metabolic effects, but…”

  "They can't say anything more?"

  "Right.”

  "Send them to CDC with a request for everything. Ask if exposure will enhance effects of soop or alcohol or modify it.”

  "CDC? They've got to be buried with the ebol4 mess.”

  Shook my head. "The viral types are. Sound and electronic exposure types won't be.”

  "It's your budget, Lieutenant.”

  "If I'm right, save us grief. If I'm wrong, Cannizaro will tell me I wasted my lab and consulting budget.”

  "You're here early. The McCall case?" . She was there early as well, anticipating why I was. I'd never told her. "That. Other stuff, too.”

  Wanted to study Resheed's summary report. Also wanted to look into the Dewey report. If I could get it out from under seal. Cannizaro hadn't said much about that. And the ODs and suicides. Even before that, needed to lean on Kama.

  "Wouldn't want to be at your console, Lieutenant.”

  Times like these, I didn't either. I smiled and went into my office. Still gray outside.

  First off, put in a call to Kama. Got his simmie. Strongly suggested he get back to me.

  Then I read through the daily summary. More of the ODs without drug traces, but they were down. They'd been declining since the weekend. All involved soop at moderate or low levels. No new suicides.

  Went back through the McCall stuff. Like an unpreserved corpse, smelled even worse.

  Kama got back to me. Could sense anger and then some.

  Eugene… you may be a friend from school…

  But you don't like your old friend leaning on you. Wouldn't do it, except there's too much here not to. I need some special technical advice.

  You didn't need to threaten me if I didn't get back to you.

  The last time I was polite… went to your office… nicely… took three days to run you down. Don't have three days.

  What do you want?

  Want to send two techs to you—in the next hour. Remember we talked about hiding overrides in nanite control systems? You tell my techs what to look for and how to find it. Then you're out of it. Otherwise, I get the advocate's office to have you appear as an expert witness at an indictment…

  Eugene… I offer you help, and this is how you repay me?

  You help me, and you won't be hurting.

  That's what you say.

  Have I been wrong? Since our last chess game?

  I'm doing a new place in southside. Could they meet me there? In an unmarked lorry, or DPS building inspector's car?

  Can do.

  Understood what he wanted. That I could do, and did.

  Got the address, out on Old Carriage Lane. Good thing Cannizaro had given me authority to draft any DPS experts I needed. The techs weren't happy, either, but they took one of the unmarked lorries.

  After they left, I went back through the McCall docket that Kirchner had dumped on me. Then went through it again. Caught a few more items I could use—maybe.

  Brazelton had offered a deposition on Nanette Iveson's death. Notarized and authenticated document, saying that he had installed a standard system and that it had passed all tests. Nodded to myself. Might have something there.

  There's a newsie here to see you, Lieutenant. Says he's Jude Parsfal. Claims he has an appointment.

  I checked the time—zero eight five-five. I'd lost track of the time. He does. Forgot to tell you. I got up, stepped out to meet him.

  Parsfal was short, muscular. Would have been heavy-set centuries earlier. Didn't look like a net researcher. Carried a thin manila envelope. Hadn't seen one of those in years.

  "Ah… I'm Jude Parsfal, Lieutenant. I appreciate your taking the time.”

  Motioned him in. When I pulsed the door shut, I also triggered the privacy screen. New style. Silent. He stood until I motioned to the other ergochair. "We're screened.”

  "I can feel that.” He smiled, cleared his throat. "Lieutenant. Yesterday, we talked about two things. One was the rising number of ODs that seemed to have no cause. You had said that all of the cases had soop in their systems. I did a few interviews and a little searching. I can't prove anything, but I'll offer you a possibility.”

  Nodded for him to go ahead. News types get around. Might actually have something.

  "All those whose families I could talk to indicated that they had been to see one of the new rezrappers right before they died. They'd also had some dosage of soop.

  I have to wonder if somehow this new type of rezrap interacts with soop—at least for some people.” He shrugged. "Just a thought.” I found myself frowning.

  "The new rezads have a greater effectiveness,” he added, "and some people are claiming that it's because they create a physiological effect, not just a mental one. There's even a study out on it. But its effect is determined on a chromosomal basis.”

  "You're stretching, Parsfal. Like to solve this as much as anyone, but…”

  "I don't think so.” He pulled out several sheets from the thin flat envelope he carried and extended them to me. "This is the hard copy from the March issue of Physiological Psychology. It's called 'Culturally Attuned Rhythmitonal Resonance—Myth or Fact?' And it's all about how the new rez affects both physiology and psychology. If it can do that…” He smiled politely.

  "Still think you're stretching.”

  "It could be. You told me yesterday that this OD phenomena was largely restricted to denser population areas, like Denv, Porlan. I'll bet there have been some in Lanta and Pitt, too, and very few anywhere else. I did a search last night of the performances of the 'new' re
zrappers. So far, there are only a handful, and at least the publicized performances have been in those four cities. You could check, I'm sure.”

  Had to admit Parsfal had the makings of a good trendie. Problem was that he might be right. Also, he was offering because he wanted something else. "Thank you. I will. You might be onto something.” Smiled politely at him.

  "There's another matter… the McCall case.”

  "It's officially closed,” I pointed out.

  He took a long breath. Deliberate breath.

  I waited.

  "It has an odor, Lieutenant. A very strong odor. To a disinterested observer, it might even appear as though everyone wanted it to go away quietly. Les Kerras said to be straight with you. I will be. First, Evan McCall was deeply in love with his wife. Second, after her death someone circulated a rumor that they were having marital problems. I checked it out. It was totally false, even to all the details. Third, Nanette Iveson was killed by a malfunctioning nanite protective screen that trapped her in her classic vintage electral when it caught fire in her own garage. Those screens are supposedly impossible to adjust that way, unless you're an expert. Evan McCall was a legal genius and a technical idiot who couldn't program his own holoscreen to receive a standard image. Fourth, McCall had been and presumably still was the privacy solicitor for Chris Kemal, but he had just left O'Bannon and Reyes to start a new firm. Interestingly enough, one of his two associates reportedly just died of ebol4, and the other immediately rejoined O'Bannon and Reyes. Fifth, Kemal is up to something very big, enough to make some very important filch most uneasy. Sixth, Kemal has been unhappy about the way District Coordinator Dewey interpreted the new guideway maintenance laws passed last year by the Legislature, and now Coordinator Dewey has just died in an accident—also involving malfunctioning nanites.” Parsfal smiled politely. "Doesn't that suggest a bit more than coincidence, Lieutenant?"

  It did. Meant I had even less time than Cannizaro had given me. "Seen some amazing coincidences over the years, Mr. Parsfal. Certain you have as well.” I paused. Parsfal didn't jump. Just waited. Not good. He knew what he had. "I trust Les Kerras. I don't know you. Trust is hard to come by.”

  He nodded. '1 understand. If you want to give anything to Les, I certainly understand. That's no problem.”

  That was worse. Meant they both knew. Or—even worse—that Kerras had been leaned on and was using Parsfal. Had to play it as well as I could. "Mr. Parsfal. I will give you one bit of information. Only on background, and only on the condition it not appear in the news anywhere.”

  "I can only promise I'll tell no one, not even Les. I can't stop someone else from finding out whatever this is.”

  "Doesn't matter. If nothing appears, then I may have more for you. DPS is reviewing the McCall case for many of the reasons you have cited. We're early in the review. Can't say more now. I've told no one else.”

  Parsfal nodded. "Neither will I. Not until you tell me, or until another net announces the review.”

  That was fair. Didn't like it, but fair. "You keep your word, and you get the story from me before anyone else. You don't, and I'll never talk to you or Les again.”

  He nodded. "Fair is fair. Is that all?"

  I liked that. He heard and didn't push. Could be I'd need him as much as he'd need me if the McCall case went where we both had it pegged. "That's all for now. Can't say now when I'll know what.” True enough, but I'd better know more before long. I stood.

  So did Parsfal. "Thank you. I hope the research article will help on the other.”

  "So do I.” I released the screens.

  After he left, I sat back for a minute. Parsfal was research, not T-head like Kerras. He didn't smell like a setup. Good setups never do.

  Some things I could check myself. The suggestion that something was up with the rezrappers and the ODs. Called up the death reports, those we had. Parsfal's hunch had been right. The info wasn't there on all the OD reports. On the sixty percent that it was, all had been at a rezrap show within an hour of their deaths. Proof? It wasn't proof, but the correlation couldn't be less than sixty percent. Too high for coincidence. Checked the request that Sarao had sent out to CDC, then sent a follow-up noting the high correlation, and sending a copy of the study Parsfal had left.

  Looked into another angle on the McCall case, Marc Oler. No real death report. Cremated at eastside Pinery Hospital. Small filch hospital. Cause of death: ebol4. Had to wonder if Parsfal knew, who else did? McCall left O'Bannon and Reyes. He was dead. So was his wife. So was his number one associate. Reported as ebol4, but cremated with no way to prove it. Number two associate, alive and well, and back in the fold.

  Again. No proof, but a good pointer that McCall had known something. But what? The big deal that Parsfal hinted at? Could any deal be that important?

  Laughed. I'd seen kids killed over a jacket or a ten-cred chit.

  Trouble, Lieutenant? Sarao came in on the link. Not yet… I laughed. Not any more than already, and that's too much.

  At ten hundred, I checked out the white electral and started out for McCall's. The two techs met me on the Southside Parkway. We talked. They had met with Kama. They told me they could find what I was looking for—if it happened to be there. Then they followed me the rest of the way.

  McCall's place had a ten-meter-high green synthstone wall. Lane off Southside Parkway led to a gatehouse. Two guards there. One looked at me.

  "Lieutenant Chiang, DPS.” I gestured to the lorry behind me. "DPS techs.”

  Still got the cold stare. Rather than argue, I passed over the remote GIL that would authenticate me.

  Three minutes later, the massive iron gate opened. Guard hadn't said a word.

  McCall's place was strange—half pseudo-early twentieth-century art deco and half ancient Tibetan. More like an ancient Tibetan monastery. Set below and east of an artificial mountain close to a hundred meters high and nearly half a klick across. Mountain was dark gray rock sculpted in the shape of miniature Himalayan peaks. Couldn't even see the real Rockies for the pseudo Himalayas. All the outside walls were pale green synthstone, smooth as glass.

  Kugeler and a woman were standing under the flat-roofed portico in the entry circle. They didn't move when I got out of the electral. The woman was blonde. Looked like the vids of McCall.

  I bowed to her. "Eugene Chiang, DPS.”

  "Irene Iveson,” she replied.

  She'd taken her mother's name. Another reason why I hadn't been able to track her.

  "Can you tell me what you're looking for?" asked Kugeler.

  "Evidence.” I gestured to the lorry. "I'd like the techs to go over the house systems and those in the garage area, while you and Ms. Iveson take me through the tower part of the house.”

  "The DPS has been over the systems at least twice,” Kugeler said mildly.

  "These techs have special training.” Hoped they did, and what Kama had given them was enough.

  "I take it that you're looking for something definite?"

  "Several things.” No point in not admitting that much.

  "What, if we might ask?" Kugeler persisted.

  I offered a polite smile. "Rather not say, yet. Could be wrong. If you would show us to the control center?"

  Control center was on the lowest level in the center of the house. Foyer led to an indoor pool and solarium on one side, corridor leading to the garage on the other, and control room right off the foyer.

  Left Moorty and Alfonso there, and followed Iveson up a circular ramp. Walked past half a dozen sculptures set on pedestals in wall alcoves. Had no idea whether they were original or formulated duplicates. Made no difference. For stone, neither was cheap. Air smelled like expensive and real flowers. Probably grown in the solarium.

  Iveson turned into another corridor with woven hangings—all in geometric patterns and bright colors. Double doors opened at the end, closed after we stepped into another foyer. Stark. No hangings, no paintings, no windows, just polished green stone floors, and a ra
mp that curved upward, through the open center of the tower.

  Iveson stopped, looked at me. "This is the lowest level of the palatium—that's what Father called it. It's old Latin for palace.”

  That fit McCall. Didn't say so, though.

  "There's a lift on one side,” Kugeler suggested.

  "I'd rather walk, if you don't mind. After we look at the rooms on this level.”

  "You're the detective.”

  First level had a large exercise room, attached steam room and sauna. Nothing extraordinary, except for the quality of the fixtures.

  "There's another steam room and sauna off the pool,” Iveson offered.

  I nodded.

  Second level had two guest suites. Luxurious guest suites with double baths and freshers attached to each. Furniture was hand-turned neo-Anne. Polished, but with a few scrapes. Rooms had been used. Not just for show.

  Third level had a series of rooms. One seemed to be an art studio—on the north side. Another had endless floor-to-ceiling cases filled with small drawers.

  "For Dad's stamps,” explained Iveson.

  Then there was a casual sitting room. Nothing special. Just a comfortable room with old-style acoustical sound reproduction equipment. New and expensive old-style acoustical reproduction equipment.

  Fourth level had two offices on the west side, a wood-paneled library on the east.

  "The one done in white and peach—that was Mother's,” Iveson said.

  "You've gone through all the files and datablocs, I assume?" Looked more at Kugeler.

  "That was the first thing we did—after the DPS left,” replied Irene Iveson. "There was nothing there.”

  "You were looking for something?"

  "I still think my parents were murdered, Lieutenant. I was looking for any possible reason.”

  "Did you find one?"

  She shook her head. "That doesn't mean they weren't.”

  She was right. I just nodded, and we walked up another level.

  Top two levels were for entertaining. Fifth level had both culinary formulators, the kind used in uniqueries, and a complete kitchen with gas stoves and walk-in refrigerator. There was a large back staircase from the kitchen to the upper level. On the west side was a dining area off the balcony, with an elegant neo-Anne cherry table that stretched ten meters. Didn't even come close to filling the room. Nor did the matched sideboards. Any one of the wooden straight-backed chairs at the dining table cost more than all the furnishings in my small great room.