She had been there when Betty Tanaka died and shared captivity with him and Jiro. Crenshaw had felt enough...what? affection? loyalty? curiosity? to come to Jiro’s funeral. She had seen Sam and must have known he wanted to talk with her. Why had she fled?
It didn’t make sense. There just weren’t enough hard facts. All he had were possibilities. He was beginning to suspect that maybe he didn’t want to know what was real and what was polite fiction or an outright lie. He had grown up believing that truth was important, but he was starting to suspect he wouldn’t like the true story.
Someone was hiding facts connected to Jiro’s death. Possibly someone within Renraku Corporation itself. Someone, perhaps an ambitious executive, was practicing deception for personal ends, twisting the corporation to suit his or her own plans for individual power.
Listen to me. I sound like dupe of the week from Channel 23’s Confessions of a Company Man.
Sam wanted to laugh it off, but could not. He had seen too many signs of something rotten. How much of what he had taken for granted was deception? He was still mulling over the matter when Hanae came panting up, her face flushed. Sam could tell that it was simple exertion and not anger. Concern and worry wrinkled her brow.
“Why did you run away?”
“I didn’t. I saw Alice Crenshaw. I wanted to talk to her about Jiro. She knew him, too. I was trying to catch up to her, and she deliberately avoided me. She knew I wanted to talk to her, and she walked away. Just like the rest of the company, avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you, Sam,” Hanae said softly.
It was true. She had been very good to him, always available with a soft shoulder. Why did he have doubts about his feelings for her? As always when he wanted to ease his discomfort, he embraced her. Hanae snuggled close, seeming well satisfied with the physical security of his arms. She hadn’t yet noticed that he did not relax the way she did. Or if she did, perhaps she put it down to the tensions affecting him for as long as they had known one another. He certainly had complained about it enough.
“My life is a dead end here,” he said, knowing it was an old line.
“Don’t talk like that, Sam.” Distress was evident in her voice. “Renraku is our home.”
“Some home. They pen me in. I never get good assignments. They’ve lowered my security rating. It’s a dead end.”
He felt her tense up within his arms. She always said she liked him best when he was happy, that she would do anything to make him that way all the time. He wanted to believe that. Even more, he wanted to believe she could do it. When he felt the yearning for her comfort, he wanted to fulfill her expectations, to be the man she wanted him to be.
“I could accept all that, if they would just let me contact Janice. They know what happened to her. Why won’t they tell me?”
“They must have a good reason.”
Sam wasn’t so sure. Not anymore.
Hanae seemed not to notice his lack of response.
“When Sato-sama gets here, you’ll see that things will change. He’ll need you to get the project going, and he’ll surely help you. After all, he is Aneki-sama’s assistant and Aneki-sama was your mentor. Renraku takes care of its own. All your trials will have been for a good reason. Sato-sama will help you.”
Like he helped in Tokyo? “I don’t think so.”
“You must try anyway.”
Sam forced a smile. “All right.”
CHAPTER SIX
Alice Crenshaw closed the door to the outer office, shutting off the protests of the security director’s receptionist. The little twit should be used to her barging in on the director by now.
The director’s aide, Jhoon Silla, stood halfway between the door and the director’s desk, eclipsing Crenshaw’s view of his master. Silla was dressed in his usual immaculate red jumpsuit, the gold Renraku logo and Captain’s star gleaming on his collar. His white Sam Browne belt gleamed softly in the indirect lighting of the lushly appointed office. The intense young man was rigid, stretched to the edge of action; his hand was under his holster flap and resting on the butt of his pistol.
“Very protective,” she said as she advanced. “But slow. You should have been at the door before I closed it.”
Tadashi Marushige sat back as she stepped around Silla. The security director folded his hands on his desk and gazed at her expressionlessly. He, too, wore the company’s undress military uniform, the collar showing insignia of the exalted rank of General in the Renraku military forces. Crenshaw never knew Marushige to wear his undress uniform except to review the elite Red Samurai guards. When Marushige was in a military mood, he usually forsook his power suits for simple fatigues.
“You’re early,” Marushige observed as Crenshaw lowered herself into the armchair to the left of the desk.
“Useful habit.”
Marushige’s stare was suitably venomous.
“Feel free to continue,” she offered, knowing that her insolence annoyed him.
“Quite all right,” he said coldly. “I was just finishing up anyway.”
He called Silla forward with a gesture. The aide began to gather maps from the desk and shuffle them into a folder. From the far side of the desk, he produced a briefcase and slid the packet into one of its compartments. Crenshaw sat quietly, turning her head to watch as Silla crossed the room to stand the case on the floor and take up position by the door. She noted the uniform hats and topcoats hanging behind Silla; their presence indicated that an operation outside the arcology was in the offing. Curious. She resolved to check with her sources as soon as the meeting was over.
She turned back to find Marushige waiting silently, watching her with his dark brown eyes. He said nothing. Finally, she surrendered to his patience.
“I’m not the only one running ahead of schedule today.” The director’s response was a nonverbal grunt that she took as a request to elaborate. “I thought you might be interested to know that your eleven A.M. meeting is moving itself up. Our friends from the Special Directorate are on their way.”
“Interesting.” If Marushige was surprised, he didn’t show it, though Crenshaw suspected he was ignorant of the development. He had obviously been deeply involved in the planning session with his aide and would have left orders not to be disturbed. “And knowing that I would wish you to attend the meeting, you dropped what you were doing to come at once.”
Crenshaw ignored the sarcasm in the director’s voice. “Of course.”
“Very commendable.”
Praise from him, even delivered sarcastically, was unusual. Crenshaw kept her face calm, her body language unaffected by the surprise. She reached into her inner coat pocket and removed her cigarette case. Casually, she removed one of the brown-wrapped cylinders and lit it from the hot spot on the case’s lining.
Marushige smiled tightly through the entire operation. When Crenshaw had exhaled her first lungful of smoke, he opened a drawer, took out a crystal ashtray, and slid it across the desk.
“In fact, your entire record here at the arcology has been commendable,” he said in a soft voice. “Have you been enjoying your stay in Seattle?”
“It ain’t Tokyo.”
“Ah, yes. You have spent most of your long career working out of the Tokyo office.”
Crenshaw didn’t care for the way he said long. It sounded too much like a retirement speech. “We both know my record. What’s the point?”
“Your record is the point, Crenshaw-san. Both your performance here and your previous experiences in Japan make you the most suitable candidate for a very special job.”
Drek! The little fragger has finally found a job that I won’t be able to pass on. He’s so pleased with himself that it must be a suicide run. She took a long drag from her cigarette, letting the dry heat sear through her lung tissue to warm her body. I didn’t think he had the nerve to try that.
“As you are no doubt aware, one of Renraku’s senior officials, Kansayaku Hohiro Sato, will honor the Seattle arcology wi
th a visit. He is conducting a fact-finding mission and audit for the home office. Naturally, security will be a primary concern. The Kansayaku will, of course, be expecting top-level attention which I, due to other pressing concerns, will not be able to supply in full measure. Therefore, it is my wish that you function as my liaison with Kansayaku Sato.
“You will, of course, be responsible for the Kansayaku’s personal safety as well.”
Crenshaw felt both relief and suspicion. She surely didn’t want to face an outside operation. She was too old for that nonsense, her enhancements at least a generation behind the opposition’s top talent. The assignment Marushige held out had a high risk factor but was not likely a physical one. With Renraku’s resources, no enemy would be likely to take a shot at Sato. But with such a notoriously hard-to-please executive, her career would be on the line. One slip, no matter how small, in the Kansayaku’s sight and she could kiss a healthy retirement goodbye. “What if I don’t want the...honor?”
“Your desires in the matter are largely irrelevant.” Marushige looked down at his desk console. “You seem to have been correct about an early meeting. Two of the Special Directorate have arrived.”
Tapping a key on his console, he communicated to his receptionist his decision to admit the visitors.
Vanessa Cliber announced her arrival with a bang, slamming the door out of Silla’s hand and sending it crashing into an antique credenza. Her tightly bound hair was leaking from the chignon on her neck, and her face was flushed, set in an expression of grim determination. She stomped to the desk and backhanded a stack of data disks at the security director. Casettes bounced in every direction. Most clattered to a rest on the desk’s surface, but some escaped to the floor.
Crenshaw shook her head in open disbelief at Cliber’s lack of restraint. This was no way to make points with Japanese.
“Just what is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “Sherman is going to have kittens.”
Marushige remained unperturbed. He stood and performed a formal welcoming bow before speaking. “Good day, Director Cliber. I do not understand your reference to President Huang, but I suspect you imply that he will be as upset as are you.”
“Damn straight.”
“Well, then, it will take some time to gather the disks you have so forcefully delivered, so perhaps you can tell me what it is about them that upsets you.”
Marushige sat down as Silla moved a chair behind Cliber. She ignored the offered seat. “You know damn well what the problem is.”
The security director shrugged. He turned his attention to the other new arrival.
“Ah, Doctor Hutten. Please excuse my poor manners. Your arrival was somewhat overshadowed. Silla, get the doctor a chair as well.”
Hutten nodded his thanks before whispering something to Cliber. She gave a short jerk of a nod, then took a deep breath and sat down. Hutten followed suit as soon as Silla moved another chair from its place along the wall.
“Please excuse Vanessa, General Marushige. She’s had very little sleep in the last few days. We’ve been having some severe problems with the integration sequencers.”
Marushige nodded sympathetically. “I understand perfectly, Doctor. As you have arrived before your appointment, I sense that the offering of proper amenities would not be appreciated. So let us get straight to business. How may I be of service?”
Cliber snorted. “You should already know. I’ve sent you enough memos. We can’t seem to get any action out of your people.”
“Ah, yes. I assure you, Director, that your memos have all crossed my desk. We of the Security Directorate are moving as quickly as possible in this matter.”
“Then your staff are all fragging turtles,” Cliber snapped.
“Vanessa!”
“I’m sorry, Konrad,” she said apologetically to Hutten, then spent several moments visibly calming herself before continuing. “Security has not approved any of our personnel requests in the last four months. We are impossibly understaffed. We need bodies. If you can’t clear the computer experts we need, at least let us have some technicians. Even researchers would help.”
“Yes, indeed,” Hutten agreed. “There were several promising ones among the last batch of personnel requests. We were especially interested in Schwartz, Verner, and Martinez.”
Crenshaw stabbed her cigarette out in the ashtray that she had placed on the arm of her chair. The force of her movement rocked the bowl from its perch. It fell to the carpet, spilling its contents into the deep pile. “Take this Verner, for example,” Cliber said curtly. “This guy worked in the Tokyo office for years. High-level, fast-track stuff in the operations staff. He even had citations from Aneki. What’s it going to take to get you people to approve someone?”
“Times change, people change,” Crenshaw growled.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Verner is classified as a security risk.”
“I don’t believe I saw that notation in his dossier,” Hutten commented.
“He’s a risk, I said.” Crenshaw spat out the words. She never liked it when the soft worms in research questioned her. She expected them to know their business as they should expect her to know hers. Why wouldn’t they just accept her word?
Marushige cut off Cliber’s response. “We need not get caught up in specific situations. Director Cliber, Doctor Hutten, I have noted your formal complaint.”
“And Sherman’s.”
“And President Huang’s. But I am constrained in this situation. The Special Directorate’s responsibility is to produce a fully sentient artificial intelligence. If this is possible, it will be a feat of world-altering significance. But we cannot let our competitors steal all our hard work.”
“They couldn’t catch us in years.”
“So you say, Director. But if their own research programs are caught on some point that we have already solved? Wouldn’t a spy then be able to bring them the crucial information?”
“No one is as close as we are,” Cliber insisted.
“That may be so, Director. You can afford that belief. I cannot. The Security Directorate is responsible for keeping even the existence of Renraku’s research into artificial intelligence from reaching our competition. Most of our own people don’t even know about it. I cannot afford to let an agent into the project.”
“You didn’t do such a good job last week,” Cliber sneered.
“Ah, you are referring to the usurpation of the Tanaka persona program.”
“What else? Or have you got more security breaches covered up in your cozy hierarchy?”
Marushige’s smile froze on his face. His eyes went hard, but his voice remained supple and smoothly comforting. “Of course not, Director. My directorate always owns up to its mistakes. We informed you of the incident at once, did we not?”
“Sure you did. But you haven’t told us anything since.”
“There has been nothing worth reporting. You know better than most just how intricate our Matrix security measures must be. Most of our security deckers are working in strictly limited areas, operating without full knowledge of what they are protecting. Some report irrelevant incidents that they believe to be significant, while others are quite likely failing to report the very data we need. Our Zeta clearance operators are reasonably certain that no data was removed, but we are no closer to determining who was controlling the Tanaka’s program.
“Does Verner’s involvement have something to do with your assessment of him as a security risk, Crenshaw?” Hutten asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“He was in the node when the intruder assayed our defenses.”
Crenshaw flashed a look at Marushige. The director’s face was closed. If he knew, he hadn’t told her. But she didn’t like the implications of that at all.
“Ms. Crenshaw is handling the personnel aspects of the problem,” Marushige asserted. “There is no solid evidence of Verner’s involvement in the attempt to penetrate the AI proj
ect. I assure you that the Security Directorate is making full efforts to uncover the perpetrator.”
“As full as your efforts to clear the personnel we need?” Cliber asked scornfully.
“This persona usurpation is an example of the difficulties we face. Surely if someone like Verner was involved in an attempt to breach the security of our computer systems, you would not wish him assigned to a position that would make it easier to steal our secrets. Would you, Director?”
Cliber narrowed her eyes. “If Verner is a risk, kick him out. Otherwise give him to us.”
“There is a risk to the project’s security here, and I am responsible for security, Director.”
“And I am responsible for seeing that this project makes its deadlines.”
“Then you must understand the weight of responsibility and the need to do the job right.”
“I know what you’re trying to do,” Cliber declared. “I’m going to make sure that Sato knows, too.”
“Kansayaku Sato will make his own observations and draw his own conclusions, Director,” Marushige responded placidly.
Cliber glared at him. “We may as well leave, Konrad. We certainly aren’t getting anywhere here.”
She stood abruptly and headed for the door. Hutten rose awkwardly, a pained half-smile on his face. He sketched a bow before following his superior.
“Silla,” the security director said softly, “arrange a car.” As the door closed behind his aide, Marushige turned to regard her.
“You are too open about your hostility, Crenshaw. They may report what you said with regard to Verner.”
She was already annoyed by his previous ploys and didn’t feel like playing games with him. “Let them.”
“You should be concerned,” he warned. “It’s your ass on the line.”
“Why don’t you worry about yours? If my ass gets chewed, I’ll feed yours to the dogs, too. Why didn’t you include Verner’s computer log in the security record? You knew about him being there when the Wall was hit.” Marushige stiffened, telling her that the shot had scored. He had known. She gave him a smile as she prepared to twist the knife and remind him who had the upper hand in their relationship.“You won’t be able to claim your drug pump slipped on this one.”
Never Deal with a Dragon Page 10
