She was dying, there was no denying it Whatever disease had taken root in her was inexorably eating tier lungs to shreds, along with her bronchial passages, her esophagus, and had begun attacking her heart. He found traces of infection in her lymphatic system and her spleen was useless, resulting in a wildly erratic platelet count She bruised at the slightest touch
Since the blockade, she explained, Nova Levis had been swallowed by a series of opportunistic infections. Within two months the black market had shifted from setting food and clothing and luxury items to selling palliatives and phannaceuticals. Oddly, the inflated prices on ordinary objects had dropped down to below previous market levels, as if the dealers were offsetting the costs with the profit from the drug trade, doing the beleaguered and dying citizens a kindness.
Everything came out of Nova City, the first Solarian port on the planet. How it got through in such quantity, Tilla did not know. But, she had stressed, there were no shortages. In anything. Clothing, food, building materials, comestibles-everything was readily available, albeit sometimes at outrageous prices. Everything except medicines.
"I'm sure even those are in sufficient supply," she had said, "but that's their milk, that's the source of their income."
Nova City lay nearly a third of the way around the planet It had been the Solarian precinct from the beginning. That's where I need to be, then.
But how?
Masid stared out at the nighttime, wondering how long he had before infection took him and he became useless. The augment Anda had given him no doubt gave him more time than he might have had, but even Spacer immune tech had limits. Tilla did have a synthesizer and it still worked. She agreed to let him use it to -increase his own supplies. Maybe he could get Filoo's attention by outselling him and the other dealers.
That could get him dead
Or hired
He wondered if the message he had encrypted using Tilla's old code and his own NAEnew Agent Established-would get to anyone who would believe it. He had not told Tilla what he suspected, which was that for her entire team to have been cut off and classified as deceased on the basis of one member's demise meant someone on the blockade, in a position to make such a decision, was part of the problem. His code was intended for the deep cover agent in the security division, whoever that might be. If he got no reply, then he would at least know how wide spread the corruption went
It also would mean that he had to operate completely alone.
Masid Vorian was accustomed to operating alone, cut off from immediate support. But this time he felt the isolation.
I could die here, he thought Then, despondently: I could die here without accomplishing a damn thing ...
He listened to Tilla's labored breathing and tried to come up with a plan that avoided either of those likelihoods.
12
COREN FOUND the cubicle he wanted in the cramped Baltimor Law Enforcement quarters and knocked on the open door. Inspector Capel looked up from his screen, then gestured for Coren to enter the small office. Coren closed the door and sat down.
'Thanks for getting me the TBI reports," Capel said. He waved at the screen. "They aren't complete, are they?'
"Would you expect them to be? No, they aren't, but what I got was relevant to our concerns."
"'Our concerns. 'That's a delicate way to put it."
"It's a delicate business were in-in its own way."
Capel smiled briefly. "You intelligence people like euphemisms too much." He straio:Ltened- "Have you eaten lately
(LN0. 'I
Capel grabbed his jacket and motioned for the door. He reached across his desk and touched a couple of contacts, then led Coren out of the precinct
He took Coren to a home kitchen. Amused, Coren grabbed a tray and followed Capel through the line. He took a plate of what appeared to be meatloaf covered in thick gravy and a bowl with a creamy, ivory-colored mound of something that might have been based on mashed potatoes. There was ample bread, though, and in spite of years of dining at private establishments, Coren had never lost a fondness for home kitchen bread
The chamber was sparsely occupied at this hour, so Capel easily found a table away from any other people. His own tray was near overflowing with plates and bowls and he carried an entire loaf of bread in his free hand
"Believe it or not," Capel said as they sat down, I come here for the bread."
I thought for the ambience."
"Hah-hah. Very amusing. But nobody surveils a home kitchen. So, in a sense, you're right."
Coren broke his own bread in half and dipped one end in the gravy. He chewed thou0itfully and washed it down with water. 'About as I remember it."
"When was the last time you ate like this?'
"You might resent me if I tell you."
Capel shrugged. He picked up a fork and began eating quickly. Coren chopped his "meat" with the edge of the fork. He took a bite of the ivory mound-mashed potato analog; as he expected, and not as bad as he remembered.
"Okay," Capel said after a few minutes. He did a casual inspection of the kitchen. "So your cyborg has actually come forward to claim an inheritance from Looms. Will it stand up?'
"He is was rega's son. Genetically, lie can make his case."
"Why haven't the TBI arrested him yet?'
'They tried. He has a very good attorney who has kept him out of custody and is arguing that the 'person' at the Petrabor warehouse and his client are not the same."
"Will it hold up?'
"I dont see how, but the only real charge that can be brought against him would be for baley running. The deaths of TBI agents at the warehouse are unwitnessed and therefore circumstantial. There was a second cyborg that was taken on Kopernik Station, so a good argument can be made that we misidentified Gamelin. It's complicated enough that he might just pull it off. He's certainly being well-funded."
"Who? The Hunter Group?'
'That would be my guess," Coren said. "If you could get a wan-ant, we could look at his finances and establish that."
"I'll try. I think I can persuade a judge that this relates to three or four unsolved murders, especially your old partner Damik. Who's Gamelin's attorney?'
"Hovis Vlib."
Capel's eyes slid shut. "Damn. I'd say that establishes a funding source right there. Vlib used to represent Alda Mikels."
,,used to
'After Mikels was indicted this last time for baley running and conspiracy to commit murder, Vlib actually dropped him. My guess is, Vlib works for the people Mikels hoped would save his butt."
'The Hunter Group."
Capel nodded and resumed eating.
"What about the murder of Rega Looms?' Coren asked- "I think all your wan-ants should be covered under that investigation."
"You would think. However, it's being declared a suicide."
Coren started. "How?'
'Traces of ammonia fluoride were found in his system."
"That accounts for the broken and crushed bones?'
Capel cleared Ls throat. 'The autopsy report is being sealed- I might possibly keep this an open file, but be prepared for the whole thing to be buried. You tell me Hovis Vlib is representing the cyborg then I tell you that a lot of credit is being spent to turn Looms' death into a suicide. A path is being cleared for Gamelin to take control of DyNan Manual Industries."
Coren did not taste the rest of his meal.
The Hunter Group ...
Coren sat in the dim anonymity of an expensive bar, a whisky on the table before him, his fourth- His thoughts came slowly, with a cottony quality that seemed to give them physical substance.
Ariel Burgess and he had established that the Hunter Group was the legal face of an offworld consortium of black marketeers. Pirates. That label amused him, bringing to mind as it did the image of bloodthirsty corsairs attacking helpless merchant ships in deep space. But the media loved it and had instilled the label in the public imagination. And why not? In a very real sense, they were pirates. They stole,
they dealt in slaves, they undermined the legitimate currency of interstellar traffic, they frightened people.
The list of corporate ties, shadow companies, subsidiaries, and related holdings had brought together a dizzying array of players once they had begun looking at Hunter. Ultimately it had even compromised the Solarian ambassador, Gale Chassik, who had been recalled. The Solarian mission to Earth currently operated only with a few Keresian bureaucrats; paper pushers with less and less to push. Coren wondered if a new ambassador would be appointed, or if all the allegations of connections between Solaria and Nova Levis and baley running would make that impossible.
That problem is now Aurora's, he thought.
He missed Ariel already and it had only been a week. Soon enough she would be on Aurora, and he doubted if he would ever see her again. He wished she were sitting across from him now so he could spin theories with her about all these connections.
He swallowed a mouthful of whisky. Somehow the taste of home kitchen food product refused to wash away, even under the onslaught of expensive liquor.
After speaking to Capel, he had called Lio Top. The conversation had been short and depressing, which had prompted him to have a third and now a fourth drink. Lio estimated that Gamelin, now Jerem Looms, if he could establish consanguinity, could push though a challenge and revision of Rega's will within another six days. That meant he could probably take control of DyNan and all its assets a mere three or four days after that Which meant, finally, that Coren had ten days to prove Jerem had murdered Rega.
Ten days. With practically any other human on the planet that was more than enough time to prove nearly anything. But Rega had been different. He had rejected all common forms of personal security, all passive surveillance, and all passive recordings. There would be no records available from any legally recognized source. So far, Coren had been unable to find anyone in the company who had even seen Jerem before the aborted reading of the will. Everything he had was circumstantial.
What did he have? A face-to-face confrontation with Gamelin that had resulted in a crushed forearm and a lot of bruising; an autopsied cyborg corpse Gamelin-which established what he suspected Gamelin was; a recording from the recovered memory of a defunct, and now missing, robot of Gamelin murdering Rega Looms' daughter Nyom along with many other baleys, a recording which by virtue of its source, was inadmissible in any Ten-an court; a tissue sample from that murder establishing Gamelin's blood relation to Rega Looms, which was just as inadmissible given the nature of its acquisition, though Coren had no doubt it would match the DNA sampling about to be done on lererre'; and the MO of murders committed by these cyborgs, a trail of bodies that had been crushed by the inhuman strength brought to bear by these halfrobotic creatures, linking a string of corpses to Rega's condition.
Personally, Coren needed no more proof. He knew what Jerem was. Jerem knew it, too.
He raised the glass. Maybe two centimeters of liquid remained.
"So," he said to the glass, "if I cant stop him legally. . .
He nodded decisively and downed the whisky in a last gulp, then took the public walkways back to his private office.
Someone waited in the anteroom. Coren hesitated, staring at the man until recognition occurred- "Hofton?'
"Yes, Mr. Lanra. I beg your pardon for letting myself in, but I thought it best to wait for you here."
"You're lucky. I might have gone back to DyNan."
Hofton shrugged- "Even so."
"You would have waited-?'
'Tor as long as expedient."
"The n . . ."
"May we discuss this in private?'
"Of course." Coren went to his door and tapped in his code. The door rejected it. He entered it again, more slowly, and entered. Hofton followed him in.
"Good afternoon, sir," the desk said
"Good afternoon. Full privacy, please."
"Security in place, sir."
Coren waved Hofton to a chair and sat down heavily behind his desk. He rubbed his face and opened a drawer, searching for the bottle of antox he kept. He wished now he had stopped at two drinks. He was aware of Hofton watching him.
Though Coren had spent several weeks with Ariel after the events surrounding Nyom Looms' death he had seen little of Hofton.
He found the bottle.
'We can talk in complete privacy now," Coren said- "What can I do for you?'
"I have received a communiqu6 from an unexpected source. I wasn't entirely sure what to do with it, as circumstances have changed so radically since this line was established. I thought I could make far greater mistakes taking it elsewhere. At worst, you might tell me where I might take it"
Coren shook out a pill into his palm. 'That ... was complicated, Hofton." He stood. "Excuse me." He entered the next room and drew a glass of water. He downed the pill and carried the water back to his desk. "Is there a chance we could do this later?'
"I'm sorry, but I'm not certain I could arrange it later The situation is complicated and pressing. Do you remember Mia Daventri?'
'Absolutely. Special Service, good agent, unfairly treated after doing a commendable job ... why?'
"The message is from her."
It took Coren several seconds to understand what Hofton meant. He held up a hand- "I thought she'd been transferred--_2'
'~--to the blockade, yes. Stie's part of the Internal Security Section."
"Damn. That is a thankless job. She sent a message to you?'
"To Ambassador Burgess. But she is on her way to Aurora."
"Why not just forward it, then?'
"Because it concerns matters here. On Earth. I shall do so if you think it best, but the contents of the message seem demanding of action now."
"Wait. Agent Daventri sent Ambassador Burgess a message about a problem here on Earth. But stie's on the blockade. I dont think I quite follow."
"In the aftermath of the last years' events at Union Station and the subsequent discoveries, Ms. Daventri and Ambassador Burgess came to the conclusion that trust was not something systemically reliable."
Coren laughed, a bit too loudly. "You have a marvelous way of putting things, Hofton. In other words, they agreed that because of all the toes they stepped on, they probably couldn't trust anyone but each other."
"Close but not completely accurate. Agent Daventri knew she was being shipped offplanet. They both knew that events concerning their actions had both Terran and Spacer elements. Isolated as she would be by the transfer, Daventri concluded that she would very quickly lose track of the infrastructure in her own bureau, not to mention anybody else's, so that in the instance of an extreme situation she would not know who she could rely upon."
"Except Ariel."
'Who would at least be here and be in touch with certain people who could be relied upon. As it has transpired, that number includes you."
"I see. I think I understand. Mia set up a backdoor through Ariel to transmit information that might otherwise draw unfriendly attention."
"Exactly. I can see why Ambassador Burgess respects you."
Coren felt warm and self-satisfied- "I miss her."
"Indeed
"So," he said loudly, and cleared his throat. The antox seemed to be taking effect; the skin around his temples seemed too tight, and there was a faint ringing in his ears. "This message . . ."
"I took the liberty of erasing it from her system and bringing the only copy remaining here." He laid a disk on Coren's desk. 'It concerns an agent I became briefly acquainted with a few months ago on Kopernik Station-I think."
"You're not sure?'
"I'm not familiar with all the identifying codes all the services use, but the timing seems correct. A man named Masid Vorian left Kopernik to go undercover as a baley in order to get on the ground on Nova Levis. I'm assuming he made it. The last team of agents on their way to Nova Levis never left Kopernik. They were found dead with all the other baleys in that container, along with your friend-"
"I remember."
"Before that, a team did ground on Nova Levis, but that was almost a year ago and they were reported dead six months ago. Their comm codes were classified defunct. You may be aware of other attempts, but to my knowledge Masid Vorian is the last one."
Coren thought this through carefully. "How does Mia Daventri come into this?'
"She was contacted by the dead team, using their frequencies and some of their recognition codes. Normally, they would have been ignored, but an additional recognition code was attached. It's my guess that Vorian found the allegedly dead team and is using their communications gear. In any event, Agent Daventri no longer trusts her own superiors. She sent this message to Ariel with the intention of having her get it to the proper, reliable address."
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