Flash

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  It wasn't. I also wasn't thrilled about tracer tags, but... well... they both knew enough to turn me into a servie for life, the kind with half a brain, if they wanted to turn me in, and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it.

  When I reached my own house, my side was half-numb, half-fire. I hoped that Paula wasn't there, not that I expected her to be. She wasn't, and I slumped into the ergochair in my office, wondering how long before the stun-shock wore off.

  The rest of the morning was a blur, and I finally left around noon, when the worst of the pain had eased somewhat. I put a few more clothes in the back of the Jacara, including some formal jackets and cravats, since I'd be needing one or more for the AKRA seminar on Wednesday and Thursday, and so that I'd have a reason for having gone to my house and not having been back to Southhills.

  The area where the lorry had been was cordoned off, but a safo just waved me around it.

  Once I was back at Southhills, I took a hot shower, and then dressed in my office clothes, as Charis called them. While I did, I listened to All-News, but it was almost an hour before I heard anything.

  ... It appears that three men died in a fiery explosion in Southhills this morning...

  The lorry and the markers bore Southhills markings, but Southhills transportation center authorities confirm that no such lorry is on the rolls and the markers were stolen. The lorry may have been stolen as well. The cause of the explosion and the deaths are under investigation...

  That was it, not that I expected much more so early.

  I settled, uneasily, into Dierk's office and began my links. The first link was to Jennifer Alison at the Centre for Consumer Equality. She wasn't in, according to the simmie, but was expected shortly.

  "This is Jonat deVrai, and your name was brought to my attention by Tan Uy-Smythe." I left my codes.

  Then I tried for Fredrik Viansa at the NorAm Vintners' Association. He was there.

  "Jonat deVrai... your name ... it's familiar, but I can't say why." He frowned.

  "There could be a number of reasons. Tan Uy-Smythe?"

  "I don't think so."

  "I was in the Marines for a while."

  "No..." His face brightened. "I know. Eric Wong! Our wives belong to the same gourmet cooking group, and he said that you'd done some work for his group, something..." Viansa shook his head. "It was so esoteric I can't even remember."

  "Well... that's become my problem. I do consulting in media placement, especially dealing with netplacings, but everyone thinks that it's so specialized." I shrugged. "I'd like to drop by a package for you. It's better in hard copy. No obligation, you understand, just something for you to look at. You might find what I do of interest, or some of your members might, either now or in the future, if they have a special problem."

  "Eric did say you were good."

  "I've got to do a seminar near there on Thursday. If you'd just leave word with your staff or your system ... I could drop this by."

  "That's a lot of trouble..."

  "It's not." I grinned. "Besides, if what I do doesn't suit you, you can always pass it along if someone asks."

  "You said Thursday?"

  "That's right. I'm doing a presentation at a seminar at the East Capitol Plaza."

  "It's your time," Viansa said genially.

  I kept smiling. "If I don't try..."

  He nodded. "I'll make sure that Delia knows. Thursday afternoon?"

  "Thursday afternoon."

  Less than fifteen minutes later, the gatekeeper announced the return link from CCE.

  "Jennifer Alison, Dr. deVrai." She had a narrow face with high and delicate cheekbones, almost birdlike, under black feathery hair, and she'd obviously checked me out before returning the link.

  "Thank you for returning the link."

  "You're welcome. I have to say that I'm a little confused. We're an association, and we don't do any product placement. Our members don't, either. Or are you linking as the front for some charitable organization?"

  I laughed. "I have to admit that my motives aren't that altruistic. They're more commercial. In the past, my clients have almost always been multis, but recently I've done several projects for associations and others. I just finished a lengthy study for the Centre for Societal Research and a much shorter one for SCFA."

  Alison's puzzled expression became more so. "But what does that have to do with CCE? We certainly are on the other side from almost all your clients."

  "According to your materials, you're an association devoted to consumer education, and you believe that an educated consumer is an enlightened consumer. I think that I can supply you with another cost-effective tool for enlightenment, and I'd like the chance to prove that, without any obligation on your part, except to read a short package that I'd like to deliver to your office in person on Thursday afternoon." Before she could object, I held up my hand. "Presentation is important, and by providing hard copy and materials, I'm making sure you get the best product. Second, I'm actually doing a presentation in the area on Thursday, so that it's only a little out of my way. And, third ... what do you have to lose except a few minutes reading what I deliver? If after reading it you don't like it, or don't want to talk further, just leave a one-word 'no' on my link, and I won't approach you again." I grinned. "At least for a few years."

  I finally managed to change her half-hostile puzzlement into humored puzzlement. "I'd be foolish not to at least take a look at something you prepared." She paused. "You are the one—"

  "Absolutely. I'm a one-person operation, although I do have some very sophisticated equipment and my own experts for some technical matters. Now ... if you'd tell anyone who will be there, or the system, on Thursday that I'll be stopping by, I'd appreciate it." I smiled ruefully again. "It's very embarrassing to tell someone, even a system, that you're expected, and find that no one does expect you."

  Alison bought the self-deprecation and smiled. "I can see that. Thursday afternoon?"

  "Thursday afternoon."

  Once I broke the link, I got to work on her presentation first. What I had in mind was something along the lines of what I'd done for SCFA, except packaged entirely differently, emphasizing how prodplacement slipped under the screens of most consumers almost unnoticed, the techniques used, in general terms, how big the industry was, and what kinds of products were most suited. Of course, Alison would only get an outline with a few teaser facts, but it would certainly be a credible proposal, and, who knew, there was always a chance that CCE might be interested.

  The NVA proposal would be harder, because I was stretching. My idea was more along the lines of an industry-based prodplacement approach, along with a do-it-yourself calculator for a rough cut to see if prodplacing made sense for any of the larger members of the association, again, accompanied by an outline of what the technique was, what it could do, and what it couldn't.

  Before I started, I tried to check the tabs at Ken's Place and the one in Jaro's groundcar. I got absolutely nothing, but there was no way to tell whether they were dead, had been removed, or if no one had been around to be recorded and transmitted. So I went back to my consulting prospecting.

  I actually got the CCE proposal roughed out before I had to go pick up the children. The explosion site was still cordoned off, and I had to edge along the south side of the lane again.

  I only had to wait in the Academy drive for ten minutes before Charis and Alan burst out and ran to the groundcar.

  Alan looked at me. "I like that better."

  "The black coat?"

  "Yes."

  I didn't ask why. Instead, I asked, "How was school?"

  "Dr. Trevalyn was sick. We didn't get science..."

  "He's always sick," Charis interrupted. "It's an excuse. He wanted to do something else."

  "Some people get sick more than others."

  From there we ended up talking about the differences in people— until we reached Old Carriage Lane—and the cordoned area.

  "What happened?" ask
ed Charis.

  "A lorry exploded somehow. When I came back to the house around noon, they had this blocked off. I checked the news and found that out, but they didn't have much to say, except it was stolen."

  "You don't think it was ... those people who..."

  I knew what she was thinking. "I don't think so. They didn't mention anyone from around here being hurt. There's nothing to worry about."

  Charis and Alan exchanged that glance again, but I didn't say anything.

  When we got back to the house and got out of the Jacara, Charis stopped. She looked at me.

  "You hurt your leg, Uncle Jonat. What happened?"

  "I was moving some stuff downstairs at my house. I pulled some muscles. They'll be better tomorrow." I hoped they'd be better on Tuesday. Still, I had until Thursday before I needed to be back in shape.

  She and Alan looked at each other again.

  "Whether I've overdone it or not, young lady, you still have some piano practicing to do before long."

  That brought a sigh, as well as changed the unspoken subject.

  Chapter 89

  Mydra waited until Deng's image filled the projection space opposite her console.

  "Good morning, Stacia."

  "Good morning. What do you think about the recent developments?"

  "The Kemal assassination?"

  "It is an interesting occurrence. Early reports suggest that it was very professionally accomplished."

  "Anyone who infiltrated Kemal's organization could have placed the explosives," Deng replied mildly.

  "Anyone could have placed them. Not anyone could have placed and channeled the explosives to be that deadly. My sources suggest that not even a Marine in full armor, seated in the back of the vehicle, would have survived."

  Deng nodded slowly. "Perhaps there are former Marines in the employ of the northside family. I believe several of Diem Phong's family and followers have served in the Marines."

  "You think so?"

  "I think that will be the most likely conclusion, and who are we to argue with what is found to be most likely?"

  Mydra nodded slowly. "Perhaps that would be best. Or should we discuss the matter at greater length?"

  "There is no great hurry. This is a crowded week, and this is not the forum for discussion. Perhaps at the end of the week, or after the Centre board meeting, if it seems appropriate. That way we can discuss other matters as well."

  "The obstacles facing the officer of choice, you mean?"

  Deng smiled politely. "We shall see what we shall see. One should not look for difficulties that may never arise."

  "There is that." Mydra paused. "There can also be the problem of unforeseen difficulties."

  "That is your province, Director Mydra, and you are welcome to it."

  Mydra inclined her head. "I look forward to hearing your wisdom."

  Once the image of the Director General of ISS vanished, so did Mydra's polite smile.

  Chapter 90

  I'd hoped to hear from Paula on Monday night, but I didn't, and I spent what strength and concentration I had left on roughing out the NVA proposal. I had to accept that Paula was having a hard time adjusting, to the full reality of being a safo, to the full reality of seeing what society was really like, and especially to the full reality of seeing what happened when idealism and the real world collided. I couldn't work as late as I would have preferred, and was actually in bed by ten, earlier than in days.

  By Tuesday morning, I was only sore over half my body, and I could move without more than minor pain. I had to tone down my exercise routine, but I did fix hotcakes for Charis and Alan, and threw in some fried apples on the side. Neither of my charges complained.

  I got them delivered at school and headed straight back to the house, where I finished the physical preparations for Thursday by eleven o'clock, including recharging and resetting the neuralwhip in the thin black case. Then I settled into Dierk's office to begin honing my proposals for CCE and NVA.

  Ten minutes of uninterrupted honing was all I got.

  Jonat?

  Yes, Minerva?

  Central Four has noted that the explosion that occurred yesterday was relatively close to the VanOkar house, and that last year there was an attack against the VanOkars. A follow-up is required.

  Who will be doing the follow-up?

  It is routine. A virty safo, one of the standard inquirers. Later, the interview will be analyzed.

  So ... you want me to be ready?

  Yes. If necessary, I can shade things through Central Four, but any major tampering with the records might be discovered.

  I appreciate the notice.

  I thought you might.

  After that warning, I decided to follow the news, at least halfway, while I worked on smoothing out my written proposal for CCE. I got almost forty minutes of work in before another news story caught my attention.

  The big news from the Capitol are some numbers that everyone seems to have, but no one will admit to the source. These numbers indicate that MultiCor has seriously misrepresented the financial status and the profits taken in by the conglomerated multis composing MultiCor. According to the analysis, MultiCor figures understate profits by a factor of three, and grossly overstate costs. More important, these cost misrepresentations also extend to the reimbursements from all major Earth governments for transportation and infrastructure...

  "This is an outrage! MultiCor has been fleecing consumers and taxpayers." That was Senator Juan Carlisimo. Carlisimo has already made a mark for his attacks on MultiCor.

  "These so-called financials are a gross misrepresentation, and a violation of the Privacy Act as it relates to multilateral organizations. Senator Carlisimo should know better." Senator Joseph Crosslin was even more angered than the first-term Senator from West Tejas.

  Of particular interest were the figures pertaining to Industrial Security Service. ISS has already been implicated in questionable dealings with proscribed weapons...

  As I listened, I took a very deep breath. If PST hadn't wanted me dead before, they'd really want me eliminated if they ever tracked those numbers to me. No, I corrected myself, when they tracked those figures back to me. But there wasn't all that much that I could do beyond what I'd already planned. I could only keep my eyes open and be ready to act when the time came.

  Because I was already distracted, I went down to the kitchen and fixed a salad with more fruit than greenery and crumbled an excessive amount of blue cheese over it. It wasn't bad.

  Once I cleaned up the mess and went back to the office, another half hour passed before the news item I had been listening for came on-air.

  Investigation of yesterday's lorry explosion in Southhills has revealed that all three men who died were associated with the Kemal trupp family, and all had previously been identified as suspects in various unresolved criminal cases. The other interesting fact was that the explosion took place less than half a kay from the point where two Southhills residents were killed in December. The previous case has not been solved.

  "At this point, there is no evidence to connect the two events." That was Captain Reymon Garos of the Denv Safety Office.

  Still, experienced observers note that the three most puzzling sets of deaths, all unsolved, have occurred in the same area of Southhills, all in less than four months. The last time any nondomestic homicide occurred in Southhills was over a decade ago. Yet the Denv Safety Office is suggesting that there is no connection...

  That bit of news, while expected, didn't make me feel any better, either. I doubted that I got more than another half hour of work before the gatekeeper announced, Safety Officer Norgraf.

  Minerva had been right about that. Accept.

  The image was one that could have passed for the safo cydroid I'd known as Charles.

  "You are Jonat Charls deVrai?"

  "That's correct."

  "You are not under any obligation, legal or otherwise, to answer any questions. Do you understand that?"


  "Yes. Could you tell me what this is about?"

  "It is a routine inquiry. We're contacting everyone in your area about an explosion."

  "Oh ... the one on Old Carriage Lane yesterday?"

  "That is correct. You are the brother of the late Aliora deVrai, the wife of Dierk VanOkar?"

  "Yes."

  "You are presently living at Seventeen Old Carriage Lane?"

  "Yes. Mostly. I also have my own house."

  "Yesterday, an explosion destroyed a lorry not far from your present residence. A vehicle similar to the Jacara that you have been driving was noted in the area. Were you in the area?"

  "I had to be, officer. I drove the children to school, at Southhills Academy. After that, I drove past Old Carriage Lane, but decided to go back up to my house and pick up some gear before returning to Old Carriage Lane. I got back around noon. Like everyone else on the lane, I was surprised to find a safo cordon."

  "You did not actually drive back to the house after dropping the children at school."

  I shook my head ruefully. "No. What happened was that I wasn't really thinking—or I was thinking about a seminar I'm giving on Thursday, and I'd almost gotten back to Old Carriage Lane when I realized that I'd planned to go and pick up some things from my own house. So I just kept driving."

  "You did not return to the house on Old Carriage Lane until later?"

  "That's what I told you."

  Central Four's simmie kept at it for a while, but in the end, he thanked me and broke the link. I'd told nothing but the truth. Not all of it, but just the truth. I hadn't driven back to the house, and I hadn't actually even gotten on Old Carriage Lane, not with the Jacara, anyway.

  I had to force myself to get back to finishing the proposals, and they had to be good, for more than just one reason.

  Chapter 91