One container. That was close to thirty kilos. Can you—or Paula— get me four blocks from that container? I had two blocks concealed in my house, but they might not be enough. Not for everything I had in mind.
That is theft of evidence.
It probably is. Can it be done?
Is it necessary?
Absolutely. It's the only way you and I will survive this trap. It will subject Paula to some danger if she is caught.
I can minimize that danger. I can override the low-level cydroid control and use Charles to get the blocks to Paula.
What about monitoring?
That is not a problem. Minerva laughed, almost as if she were enjoying that thought.
All in all, it was a very late night.
Chapter 86
I didn't listen in on Charis's piano lesson on Saturday. Instead, I used the time to do some more research. The three other tenants of the building owned and occupied by the Centre for Societal Research were the Centre for Consumer Equality (CCE), the Association of Professional Scientists (APS), and the NorAm Vintners' Association (NVA).
I didn't have anything to offer to APS, but I could certainly make a pitch to CCE or NVA, or both, and schedule a delivery for Thursday, between my presentation at the AKRA seminar and the evening reception. I'd already arranged for the Bowes to take care of Charis and Alan for the time I'd be at the AKRA function, which was a good thing, because I doubted that I'd have been able to get someone that reliable on short notice. They'd have to pick up the children, and I'd have to make special arrangements for that as well.
Next came the arrangements for the Kemal side of things. I'd checked out Mahmed Kemal's schedule, and there was a window of opportunity. He always stopped by his brother-in-law's coffeehouse at five o'clock on Sunday and stayed for at least an hour. Then he was driven home. The route varied, except for two sections. He always took a short stretch of Continental Boulevard, and about three blocks on Verannis. I could use those sections for my backup plan, it plan A didn't work out.
I linked Paula, hoping that she was at the house, and would answer. She might have been, but she left the answering simmie on. So I had to leave a message.
"Paula, this is Jonat. I was wondering if you could help me out on something—"
The simmie vanished. Paula was in the office, once more reading one of my books. For a moment, I just looked. She seemed so comfortable there, despite the worried expression on her face, that I almost didn't want to say anything.
"Yes, Jonat?"
"As I said, Paula ... I have a favor to ask."
She looked very doubtful.
"I'm not going to impose myself on you personally, at least, not directly. But I need to take care of some pressing business on Sunday. I have to come over to the house to get some things ready, and then go out. I was wondering if I could prevail on you to watch the children for a few hours. At my house, I mean. They'll come with me."
She actually looked relieved. "Jonat, I don't know that I'm the best for that, but I can make sure they don't get into trouble, and I'd be happy to help you out that way."
"Thank you very much. I'd guess we'd be there around one-thirty tomorrow, but you don't have to be there until three at the earliest."
"I'll be there." She smiled. "Where would I be going? I'm a very poor safo who's fortunate enough to be living in a dwelling well beyond my means."
"I apologize for this, but there are some things that are just beyond my control."
"Minerva has suggested that you're under great strain." Her face clouded. "I have your delivery."
"Thank you. I'll need it."
"She said you would. She said that matters were not going that well for either of you."
"No ... they aren't. We'll have to do what we can."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Your watching Charis and Alan will help a great deal. A great deal." In more ways than one. "Are you finished with your indoctrination, or familiarization, or whatever it's called?"
"I just have three days. I thought there would be more. Then I get a day off. After that, on Friday, I start with monitoring duties at station two. I'll be on monitoring for a month. After that, I'll rotate through what all junior safos do. Some patrols, some monitoring, some station-keeping."
"Do you still think you'll like it?"
She smiled. "I can't imagine doing anything else."
At one time, I couldn't have imagined doing anything else but being a Marine officer, either, and I hadn't seen that much corruption in the Marines. Outside the Corps, in the political areas, and in the missions assigned. I frowned. Then, wasn't accepting corrupt missions a form of corruption itself?
"Did I say something wrong?" Paula asked.
"No." I shook my head. "I was thinking about when I was young, like you, and what I found out."
"You're not very encouraging."
"I didn't mean to be discouraging. As I'm sure Minerva has told you, all organizations have some bad people in them. The good organizations have fewer of them, and they generally get rid of them, but they all have them. The Safety Office is an organization with a difficult job to do."
"Minerva has told me where I should be careful."
"Good."
"She's worried about you, Jonat."
"That's good, too, because I'm worried about me."
"Why?"
"I'll tell you tomorrow."
"Do you promise?"
"I promise."
After I broke the link with Paula, I had to go down and pick up the last few minutes of Charis's lesson. That was so I knew what she was supposed to be practicing.
When Madame Castro wound up the lesson, she turned and smiled at me. "She is doing so much better. It is so good when those with talent work to build their skills."
I returned the smile. I had to agree. I had my doubts whether Charis did, but my job wasn't to be my niece's best friend. It was to make sure she had the skills and talents—and discipline—to take care of herself.
After Madame Castro had left, I turned to Charis before she could escape. Since it was blustery outside, with scattered snowflakes dancing through gray air, Charis and Alan weren't likely to want to spend much time outdoors.
"Charis ... go get your brother. You two can help me fix lunch."
"Do we have to?"
"No. You can go hungry."
There was a barely concealed sigh.
I offered a loud and deep sigh of my own in return. "Charis ... I am not going to live with you forever. More important, you are not going to want to live with me forever. If you don't start learning to cook some simple things now, and some more complicated ones as you get older, you'll have to depend on other people for the simplest meals."
"I know, Uncle Jonat. But Marianne and Casia don't have to."
"You're not Marianne and Casia. You come from a family that expects more. Now go find Alan and tell him to come on down here."
"Yes, Uncle Jonat."
I had the feeling that the rest of the day was going to be long—very long.
Chapter 87
I worked late on Saturday night, using Dierk's workshop to do what I could to prepare for the week ahead. The hardest part was mounting the neuralwhip inside one of the thin black datacases, and making sure there was still space for some papers, and that the whole thing remained totally nonmetallic, because it had to pass security screening. I had to do the same thing for the other case, and getting the ultra-ex set right, and a nonmetallic detonator, with blast spreaders, was another problem. In the end, I managed. Then I loaded everything I'd need for the next afternoon and evening in the trunk of the Jacara before I went to bed.
Not that much after sunrise on Sunday I was awake and up. Not too early, thankfully, but early enough that we had no trouble eating a semi-leisurely breakfast—cinnamon pancakes and sausage, with the honey butter and heavy syrup—almost sinful.
After Charis and Alan had stomachs that were comfortably full, I said
, "We'll be going over to my house this afternoon, right after lunch. I've got some things to do there—"
"Can't you do them here, Uncle Jonat?" asked Alan.
"I've done what I can here," I answered truthfully. "I'll also have to go out later, probably around lour. Paula's going to be there, and she'll be taking care of you. I shouldn't be that late."
"What are you working on? It's Sunday."
"Consultants have to work when they can. Sometimes, it's not convenient."
The two looked at each other, and I had the feeling that I'd uttered words all too similar to what Dierk or Aliora might have said. I didn't press.
Despite the long breakfast and conversation, we made it to church and Sunday school without my having to rush Charis and Alan or myself. Lunch was a bit hurried, but no one seemed to mind too much, and we arrived at my house at one-forty.
Paula was waiting, and she opened the door before we reached it.
"Hello, Jonat... Charis ... Alan..." She smiled, although I thought it was more for the children than for me.
"You're looking good," I offered, and she was, in a simple charcoal gray singlesuit with a dark green vest that somehow brought out the stormy gray of her eyes.
"You're very gallant, Jonat."
"Just truthful."
She glanced away, then back at me.
I looked to the children. "You two can find one of the games in the front room and play it. Or read. I have some things to do in the workroom."
"We can't use the netlink?" asked Charis.
"Not until later. You can each have an extra hour today, but not for at least an hour."
"Yes, Uncle Jonat."
The two of them trudged glumly inside without looking back. The wind, colder than it had been earlier in the day, gusted around us as we stood just outside the front door.
"I'm an ogre," I said dryly.
"They don't look exactly terrorized."
"Not too much."
"What Minerva said you wanted is in the workshop."
"Thank you. I hope it didn't create any trouble for you."
"No. Charles replaced the blocks with something else. Unless there's a very close inspection, no one will notice for some time. By then, no one will be able to track when it vanished." Her eyes focused tightly on me. "What you're doing is dangerous."
"It is. Not doing it is more dangerous."
"Minerva said something like that. She said I shouldn't ask too many questions. Why not?"
"I'm sure she said that to protect you."
"How can ignorance protect me?"
"It probably can't," I said after a moment. "You already know too much. Why don't you help me unload the trunk of the Jacara and then come down to the workroom with me? I'll tell you as much as you want to know—that I know, anyway."
So she did, and we carted the equipment and assemblies down to the workroom. Paula didn't say anything until I'd closed the door.
"I'll have to work as I talk," I began. While Dierk's workshop had more tools, mine had the rest of what I needed—or the components to create what I needed. I wasn't going for timers, just a simple RF jolt detonator. "If I tell you something you already know, tell me."
"I will."
"All right." I opened the doors to the cabinet that held various components, many of which I'd saved from systems and equipment over the years. "You know that there is a group of ascendents who control the major multis. They sit on the same boards, and they also effectively control MultiCor and the CorPak security for Mars and outsystem installations."
"I had picked that up."
"These people had chosen me years ago to be their patsy in a power play that will grant them greater control over the Legislature and over all outsystem trading and economics..." I went on to explain about PST and the Centre for Societal Research, my report, the attacks, and how it all fit together—and how there wasn't a single legally usable piece of evidence.
Paula nodded slowly. "I knew some of that, but not how it all fitted together. The ISS part was always clear, but I never was sure why everyone was after you. It was obvious that they were, but not why."
"That's because," I admitted, "I never said much about it. Who, except someone who already knew about ISS and the PST types, would believe it? I guess I sort of felt, after a while, that no one would. I couldn't say much to Minerva when she was Central Four because she didn't have full control over what she could reveal. At least, I don't think she did." I was a little surprised that Minerva hadn't joined the conversation, but I wasn't going to press. I was having enough trouble dealing with revealing things to Paula. It just wasn't my pattern, maybe because Aliora had been the only one I could trust even a little, for so long.
"Who are you going to ... attack?"
"Mahmed Kemal. Someone at PST paid to have me killed. I've avoided at least one attempt so far, but Kemal won't stop. His honor insists that the contract be carried out. He's the immediate problem." I gestured toward the workbench. "The rest is for certain members of the PST group."
"You ... you're going to kill them all?"
"Not all. The key members. Or ... I'm going to try. I don't have much of a choice. So far, there have been at least four attempts on my life, and my sister and her husband have been killed. I've received warnings from Sinese sources that I'm to be eliminated, and the contract with Kemal and his trupps would be just the beginning, even if I can avoid it. I've reported several of those attempts to the safos, as you might recall. It hasn't done much good."
Paula was silent.
"You wanted to know."
"It seems so cold..."
"It's not cold," I replied, trying not to get angry with her. She wasn't the problem. "I'm furious. I'm furious that key officials in the Safety Office have been suborned. I'm furious that I have to go outside the law to protect myself and my family. I'm furious that my DNA was stolen and used as a tool to kill my sister. I'm furious that ISS and MultiCor want to use lethal weapons on their hapless permie charges because they want better treatment and political freedom. I'm furious that PST has fingers into every political aspect of the NorAm government, and no one seems to be able to do anything about it." I stopped.
"You're angry."
"I said I was. I'm not angry at you. I'm angry because ... what I have to do is wrong. It's just a whole lot less wrong than doing nothing. I'm angry because no one seems to even know or care, and I'm angry because I know that's human nature. People don't want to look at the unpleasant side of things. They don't want to fix thorn if it takes much work or if it might threaten them or their safety, and that's how and why things get so bad at times."
"Is it really that bad?"
I gestured toward the workbench. "Do you think I'd be doing this, with Charis and Alan to worry about, if it weren't? I've told you what I know. Every word I've said about what happened is the truth. You can ask Minerva if you don't trust me."
"It seems so unbelievable—even to me."
"It seems almost unbelievable to me—until I remember those months in the medcrib. Or I want to link my sister, and I remember that she's not there. Or when I look at Charis and Alan. Or even when I think about Minerva, risking what amounted to suicide, because a safo captain has been bought off by the PST group."
"It's awful..." Paula shook her head. "You're sure you have to do this?"
"No. I'm not. Kemal could die of something in the next hour. The northside family could take him out. A chunk of mining debris could spiral in from the Belt and just happen to land on ISS and wipe out most of the PST leaders. But the odds are very much against any of that, and I have to operate based on the most likely probabilities, and those are, that if I don't act, I'll be dead in the next month. And I'll be dead, not because I initially did anything wrong, but because I might stop someone else from doing something wrong."
After a moment, Paula looked away from me. "Can ... I do anything?"
I took a deep breath. "Yes ... please. If you wouldn't mind, you can check on the
dreadful duo, and make sure that they're not killing each other or destroying something. And then, if you please, would you get me a mug of Grey tea?"
"I can do both." Her smile was both warm and sad, simultaneously.
It took me almost two hours to finish what I needed for the afternoon, and then to change into the blend-ins. By a quarter to four I was back in the Jacara, gloves, hood, and case on the floor of the passenger side.
As I drove south along Centrales toward a certain coffee shop, I linked with Minerva. Why didn't you tell her what you know? Why did I have to tell her?
Because it's better that way. She has to learn that you trust her. That won't occur unless you're the one.
So ... now she's upset with me.
She may be more upset with the world as it is than with you.
I wasn't so sure about that.
I parked the Jacara on a side street a good block away from the coffee shop. Then I set the blend-ins for full adaptation, donned the hood and the gloves before I stepped out with the case, also covered in blend-in. Unless someone was watching closely, very closely, they'd just assume that the driver had hurried off. I didn't hear anyone, and had to hope I was right. Even if I weren't, so far I'd done nothing illegal. So far.
I walked slowly toward the end of the block. Once there, I slowed my progress to less than a crawl. Kemal's driver always parked in the same place, right in front of the entrance to the coffeehouse. There were signs that indicated no parking, but no one was going to do anything to Mahmed Kemal, not in his own territory, and not over unauthorized parking on a Sunday afternoon. Not even the Denv Safety Office.
The coffeehouse itself was a single-story structure only about twenty meters wide. The two permaglass windows set on each side of the doorway were framed on the inside by dark crimson hangings trimmed in gold and tied back with gold sashes. The door was golden oak trimmed in polished brass. For westside, it had a certain kind of style, especially set as it was between a hair stylist's on the south and an appliance repair shop on the north. The sign over the entrance read: STEFAN'S COFFEEHOUSE. I could sense the scanners focused on the entrance, but none was focused out on the street or the outer edge of the sidewalk.
Flash Page 39
