by Isaac Asimov
Chassik frowned. His forehead seemed to contract. “Removed. But I understood–”
“Normally, Phylaxis Group would be doing the forensics, but Special Service assumed full control of the investigation and barred us from all the relevant material. Surely you knew.”
“Your people have been working with us on decommissioning the mobile units. I assumed...”
Derec nodded. “To answer your question, sir, I have no idea what happened to the RI. The unit is a Solarian brain, isn’t it? The company that did the original installation is removing it. Didn’t they tell you any of this?”
Chassik snorted. “Terran regulations. They aren’t allowed to discuss it with anyone, including me, until such as time as, et cetera. I’m sure you’ve heard the same excuses.” He narrowed his eyes at Derec. “You aren’t even doing oversight on its removal?”
“No, sir.”
“Hmm. Odd.”
“I can’t disagree.”
“Well. Do you have any theories, Mr. Avery?”
“No, not even a hypothesis. At best I would be making a wild guess.”
“Please.”
“Somehow, coding was introduced into the RI that effectively distracted it from its primary responsibilities and redirected it. When the assault occurred, the RI was playing. It never saw what was happening.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Again, I can’t disagree. Without access to the unit, though, I can’t begin to tell you why or how.”
Chassik sipped his drink thoughtfully for a few moments. “Mr. Avery, I don’t think I need tell you what sort of consequences we’re looking at. I don’t believe it’s unlikely that relations with Earth could be severed.”
Derec wanted to argue, but in truth what Chassik said seemed all too likely. One of the core issues of the conference, surrounded by all the trade talk and good will hype, was an agreement to allow robotic inspection of all Earth-Spacer shipping, in both directions. That meant allowing robots onto Terran vessels, a condition too few on Earth approved. It only seemed possible because of Eliton’s efforts and the general esteem which Ambassador Humadros commanded and the fact that a great deal of money was involved. The Union Station RI and its satellite systems had been intended to showcase positronics on Earth, to “educate” Terrans and ease some of the prejudice. Now that it had failed so dramatically and catastrophically...
“I’m not sure what I could do to help, Ambassador,” Derec said finally.
“Solaria stands to lose a great deal over this incident. Our reputation is at stake, here and at home. So you will understand my desire to know as much as possible about what happened. Would you be willing to do an analysis of the RI after it’s been removed from Union Station? Off the record?”
“Off... I’m not sure I understand.”
“On the quiet. I’m afraid it would not be authorized by anyone other than me. I could...’borrow’ the unit before it gets shipped back to Solaria.”
“What good would that do? If I found something”
“Then it becomes my affair and I could do something with it. But without any knowledge of what happened, I’m helpless.”
“It would have been better had the unit not been removed.”
Chassik shrugged. “I can’t stop it.”
“Let me think about it, Ambassador,” Derec said. “I’m not sure such an analysis would give you anything worth using. Off-site like that, without any kind of witness to the process, it could be claimed that anything I find is manufactured.”
“Would it be?”
“What?”
“Claimed. You know these Terrans a little better than I, perhaps. You’ve been here longer.”
“Think about it, Ambassador. Under similar circumstances, what would you claim? They aren’t really that much different.”
Chassik’s eyebrows raised fractionally, but he nodded and smiled. “Don’t take too long to give me your answer, Mr. Avery. There’s a window of opportunity here.”
“I understand, Ambassador.”
Chassik pointed at the glass beside Derec. “You didn’t touch your drink.”
“It’s a little early for me.”
“Too bad. Something called Beam’s Choice. I must confess, I don’t find much about Earth superior, but they make fine whiskey.” He finished his own glass. “A present from one of their industrialists. They like giving tokens here.”
“When they can.”
Chassik nodded and stood. “It was pleasant talking to you, Mr. Avery. And do let me know soonest on your decision.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Derec followed the waist-high mobile unit down the corridors to the elevator, trying to work loose the tightness between his shoulders. Nothing just said made any difference to anything; the entire meeting could have been done by comlink with the exception of the illicit offer to allow. Phylaxis access to the RI after its removal from Union Station. So that, Derec decided, had been the true purpose of the meeting.
Which made no sense if Special Service had impounded the RI. If they had not, then what was the purpose of assuming complete jurisdiction of the investigation? And if they had, how would Chassik get his hands on it? True, it belonged technically to Solaria and would eventually be shipped back, but not before Terran analysts ripped it apart. By then, any analysis Derec might perform would be useless. Nothing would be left to analyze.
Derec rode the elevator down to the garage, his unease increasing. Chassik had to have known Phylaxis was barred from the investigation. Well, there was truth to the implication of bureaucratic territoriality–it was possible no one from Special Service, the Station, or his own people had told him anything–but surely Ariel would have said something, being the liaison from the Calvin Institute.
Too many things made less and less sense.
“Where would you like me to drop you, sir?” the limo asked him.
Derec hesitated. “What time is it?”
“Nine-ten, sir.”
Two hours at least before his meeting with Ariel, all the way north of the Capitol Mall to Franklin Park. That was a good thirty-minute drive...
“Ford Theater, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
The limo started up and headed for the exit.
Eighteen
ARIEL WAITED NERVOUSLY at a small table by a massive pillar and watched the throngs enter and leave the sprawling kitchen. It had been years since her last visit to one of these huge communal dining areas; the place triggered memories–some pleasant, others unwelcome and long neglected.
Derec wandered in with a crowd of school kids who were all dressed in bright blue-and-yellow jumpers and wearing their ID badges prominently around their necks. He got in the queue, picked up a tray, and went through the line.
He drifted by her table, then looked again. He made an exaggerated grin and ambled over, everything about him suddenly announcing salacious intent.
“Excuse me, but I couldn’t help notice,” he said, just a bit too loudly. A few people turned to look, then as quickly turned away. “You look lonely. Mind if I join you?”
Ariel almost laughed. It was so blatantly clichéd she wondered that anyone could possibly accept such an invitation.
“I don’t think” she began.
“You’re that friend of Kate’s, aren’t you? Down at the data import pool? I’m Massey.”
Ariel looked away, working at her smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first. Please.”
Derec slid into the chair opposite her. “Come here often?”
“Enough,” Ariel hissed.
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” He started sorting out his tray. “So why here?”
“I left through a service access and took the strips. No limo.”
Derec glanced at her. “Dressed down, too, I see.”
She had worn a single piece of dull brown and a bright red jacket that glistened wetly. “It might have been worth it.
“Maybe.” He tore of
f a piece of bread and dipped it in the thick gravy around his slab of meat product. “You know, I’ve eaten at the best, but there’s still something primally appealing about this place.”
“You’re joking. That’s disgusting.”
He gestured at her glass of milk. “And you look like a very convincing T rating, sitting in your home kitchen without any food.”
“We won’t be here that long. Hurry up.”
“Are you going to tell me what we are here for?”
“The body we saw.”
“Which one? Eliton’s?”
“Yes. It wasn’t.” She went on to update him on the six Managins and the fact that now, according to Senator Jonis Taprin, Bogard had killed the three Mia had apprehended, then self-destructed, killing Mia as well.
Derec frowned and forked a chunk of meat into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully for a time. “Of course, you know that’s not true.”
“Of course I do.” He gave her a skeptical look. Impatiently, she went on. “I may disagree with the ‘looseness’ you’ve built in to Bogard, but if it kills someone it will be by inability to cope, not through intent. Those three men were alive when Mia was taken off to the hospital.”
“All right. So what are we doing up here?”
“Looking for ambulances.”
He looked puzzled, then smiled. He nodded, chewing. “You know, you certainly are”
Ariel held up a finger. “Don’t carry the charade too far.”
Derec chuckled. She watched as he ate everything on his tray.
“Are you finished?”
“I am now. All I had this morning was coffee.”
“No wonder it tasted good.”
He stood. “Shall we go chase ambulances now?”
They took a strip east, toward the convention district.
“The newscams followed Eliton’s corpse out of the gallery and to the ambulance,” Ariel said. “We got a clear ID on the vehicle. Mia called Reed and told them she was an insurance adjuster and needed to verify ID numbers on the ambulances servicing them.”
“Why?”
“The body was switched somewhere. If it was in the hospital itself, it gives us a place to start.”
“Makes sense. And?”
“The hospital very helpfully connected us to the administrative records datum and Mia was able to just peruse at leisure. That ambulance had been assigned to Reed, but it was decommissioned last year. Too old to be economically upgraded.”
“Wouldn’t somebody have noticed on the scene?” Derec asked.
“Who? An ambulance specialist? No, they use the same body shells. It’s all the hardware inside that gets the upgrades.”
“So, that ambulance doesn’t service Reed. It could service another hospital.”
“Or small clinics. But a vehicle has a data trail that follows it everywhere, even after they’re ‘officially’ decommissioned. No record of any upgrade, no reassignment to any other facility. The vehicle officially is no longer in service at all.”
“What about the newscams? They were at Reed when Eliton’s body arrived.”
Ariel nodded. “Mia’s trying to locate an available record. Two of the agencies we contacted told us that they missed the arrival of Eliton’s body, that it had been delivered through a secured access and none of them knew where. The first they knew, Eliton’s body was already inside Reed.” Ariel looked at the passing signs, then pointed. “Here we go.”
They began making the careful transition down to the slower strips and got off at Corridor Six. Ariel headed for the nearest directory. She wanted sublevel E. The directory indicated the closest escalator and elevator.
“You wouldn’t want to hear about my morning, would you?” Derec asked, following.
“Sure. How was your morning, Derec?”
“I had a meeting with Ambassador Chassik.”
Ariel stopped. “Chassik? Why?”
“He wanted to do me a favor.”
“Chassik never does favors.”
“He offered to let me analyze the Union Station RI after it’s been removed.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know. I told him I’d think it over.”
Ariel and Derec continued on to the escalator. As they descended to sublevel E, she noticed how few other people seemed to be around. Most of this area contained maintenance, service, and distribution facilities and those few people present looked like I-rated laborers, dressed in plain overalls. The sound of heavy machinery gave a throbbing background groan, and the air smelled warm, metallic.
They paused at the intersection of an alleyway and the main corridor. Ariel slipped her portable datum from inside her jacket. The map of the area on the small screen also gave their location.
“Down there,” she said, pointing across the corridor and returning the datum quickly to its pouch. She looked around, frowning. “There’s something else about this area …”
They turned down a narrow passage covered by a wide strip of dull grey material, a guide path for movers. At the end they emerged into a wide area fronting a garage entrance. Old transports lined the wall to their right, grimy vehicles long unused, their identifying markings obscured by dirt and wear. Two wide transport exits opened on either side of the apron.
“D. C. Municipal Transport Service Terminal,” Derec read the sign above the main door. “Substation Six-E-Vernon Section.”
“This is the place.” Ariel looked around, frowning.
” Now what? Are we expected?”
“I sincerely hope not. It’s just... something else about this area...” She shrugged. “We get inside and look for that ambulance.”
“How?”
“That’s what I needed you for. You’re good at getting by AI systems, aren’t you?”
“I’m the designated thief? Should have brought Bogard along for this.”
“Oh, absolutely. Let’s bring a robot into a worker class section. No one here would mind.”
“Bogard is stealth-capable. No one would have noticed.”
Her own anger surprised Ariel. She drew slow breaths and suppressed it. “Mia still won’t release it.”
“That has to change.”
“She’s afraid.”
Derec shrugged. “All right, there should be another access, for maintenance crews or supervisors or whatever.” He sounded ambivalent now, his voice dull and flat. He walked away from her, skirting the edge of the broad apron. He disappeared to the left of the façade.
Ariel searched the geometries surrounding the garage–suspended walkways, roofs, shuttered windows, sharp shapes piled up around massive supporting beams that ex tended into the cavernous heights high overhead. Mist obscured details of the main roof, haloing the bright points of light. She saw no one, which did not reassure her. She followed after Derec.
The gangway turned right several meters from its entrance. Ariel experienced a brief touch of claustrophobia looking up the walls that formed the narrow canyon.
She found Derec at the top of a set of metal steps, tentatively entering data into a small panel set alongside the human-sized door. His face was blank, now, only his eyes bright with concentration. Ariel stood by the comer, a few meters away, watching, as if she could do anything if they were caught.
Derec grunted, then slid something into the reader at the base of the pad. He entered a few more commands and the door slid open with a grinding sound that made Ariel’s nerves dance.
“I don’t think it gets much use,” Derec said, retrieving a wafer-thin square.
Ariel hurried up the steps and they ducked inside. Derec stabbed at a panel below a dull red light and the door closed.
Except for the red lamp, the place was dark.
“Great,” Derec said. “It’s an automated garage.”
“There has to be an office or a service station.”
“Mmm. Maybe. Or it could be–wait.”
Ariel heard him pat the wall as he moved away from her. Then a sharp click and suddenly a
wan yellowish light filled the immediate area. He stood by another panel filled with switches. A walkway ran directly along the side of the wall. Outside that, the garage itself remained lightless.
At the far end they came to a row of cubicles, each containing a desk and datum terminal. The dust on the transparent walls obscured detail within. Derec ran his finger down it, leaving a clear trail.
“You’re sure this is the one?” Derec asked, brushing his fingers on his pants.
“No. This is only the last known address.”
Derec walked slowly along the row, then stopped. “Ariel.”
The cubicle wall showed trailing handprints near its door. The desk and terminal inside had been dusted off and there were clear footprints on the dark tile floor.
“Could have been the regular staff,” Ariel suggested.
“I doubt it. If there was a regular staff, it would be cleaner.” He entered the cubicle and stepped up to the desk, then sat down and switched on the terminal. “What’s the ID number on the ambulance?”
Ariel brought out her datum. “Here.” She showed it to him.
Derec entered the code and sat back, absently tapping his chin with a forefinger.
“Decommissioned thirteen months ago,” he read from the screen. “It gives overhaul estimates, then lists component values for recycling it as parts... and a secondary market value for direct resale... a bid was made on it eleven months ago.”
“Someone bought it?”
“It doesn’t say. Just that a bid was made. It only gives an auction number.” He frowned. “No further updates of any kind. It evidently was sold.”
“Is it here?”
“It doesn’t say that, either, but it does give a bin number on the original entry. I suppose we could just go look.”
“Let’s.”
Derec entered a few more commands, then took the flimsy sheet that extruded from the printer. He closed the terminal down and stood.
“Level Four, Row F, Bin Twenty-Eight.”
“What about lights?”
Derec opened each drawer in the desk, then went to the cabinet near the door. “Ah,” he said as he straightened, holding a flashlight.
Their footsteps echoed loudly, mingling with the stray, obscure sounds of the garage. In the near total darkness, broken by constellations of readylights here and there and the circle of their flashlight pushing before them–the noises made the space seem vast and complex. Ariel walked alongside Derec, trying to control her reflexive jitters at every click and whir and drip. It was not fear so much as a formless unease at not knowing where she was or what it looked like.
