Текст книги "Regenesis"

Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh

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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 45 страниц)

She loved Catlin. And Catlin helped her, finally, get it all in perspective. Her own reaction was all gauzy wisp, pure emotion, evaporative on a breeze, and nothing to do with rationality–unless you started taking your own rattled assessment for solid and factual, and that was a mistake that launched your whole universe into mythology, especiallywhen it was a love‑hate reaction. Catlin dealt purely in substance, and found real substance in that latter bit that she herself didn’t see as alarming, or at least didn’t see as at all surprising–so she wasn’t fluxed by it, just analytical, and that was that, and she could tell herself calmly, yes, she’d hear the request and she’d think about it and she’d probably say no. When Justin actually asked her.

It was interesting, however, to hear that first scene as Catlin, and realize that, if she were Catlin, she just couldn’t be fazed by any assessment of her age–Catlin was just Catlin, and knew what she could do, any other judgement was, in Catlin’s view, just mistaken.

Catlin did, however, worry about Justin’s mental engagement with Jordan’s frustration, and possibly the vector it would take, entangling her and trying for sympathy.

And it would involve Justin going right to Yanni’s door, at a sensitive time in her own relations with Yanni. There was that little question.

That wasworth a slow rethinking, in Catlin’s way of looking at born‑man behavior. In Catlin’s view, a born‑man following his emotions was apt to do any damned thing, not necessarily prudent, or successful, or even in his own self‑interest.

This request certainly wouldn’t be in Justin’s interest. That was the thing about realself‑sacrifice, unlike Jordan’s martyrdom: it knowingly gave away bits of itself, trying to make the environment saner, and better.

On the other hand, another inquiry about Jordan could, coming from her, constitute a very interesting probe into Yanni Schwartz’s motives.

She thought about it a moment. And she was surer and surer about her course of action.

She wrote a note to Justin, and sent it. It said:

Don’t go to Yanni with your fathers situation. The Patil investigation is going to have Yanni’s office in an uproar, ReseuneSec is conducting the investigation, and I don’t want Hicks’ office to sweep you and Grant up for questioning. Then I’d have Hicks getting all upset and bothered because I’d have to go over his head to Yanni to get you out. I would do it, understand, but that would just complicate things and you still wouldn’t get your answer out of Yanni and I’d have Hicks mad at me, which would just make matters worse. I have to talk to Yanni anyway. Let me approach Yanni about Jordan’s getting some work to do. I’d be happy to. I want things to work out, the same as I know you do. You and Grant just be careful about going out of the wing, even to restaurants, and don’t send Grant by himself. I don’t want trouble with ReseuneSec.

Justin had a strong tic, where it concerned ReseuneSec. And it wasn’t altogether the most honest thing she’d ever written, but its purpose was. And there was stillthe question of who had put Jordan on to Eversnow, and who had dropped that card into his pocket–if they could believe a word of what he’d said.

I won’t critique his work,she said at the end of that note. I won’t say a word. I know he’d like me to so he can have a fight. So I’ll just pass/fail it. Tell him he’ll have to write it well enough to get it past me and I’m going to be hypercritical. Bet he can’t do it. Tell him that.

BOOK THREE Section 2 Chapter vi

JUNE 13, 2424

0802H

“ God,” Justin said, and then laughed, outright laughed.

“That’s good,” Grant said.

“I hope she can convince Yanni,” Justin said, and Grant:

“I want to seethis one.”

BOOK THREE Section 2 Chapter vii

JUNE 13, 2424

2310H

Pajama conference. That was what they’d used to call it, back when the Enemy was Denys, and they did it now that they ruled the Wing and had a force of their own. Florian and Catlin sat on Ari’s big bed–Ari in her nightgown and Florian and Catlin in their gym sweats; and Ari tucked her knees up with her arms around her ankles and Florian and Catlin sat cross‑legged. They played the oldest Game, Who’s the Enemy?

“Paxers are easy,” Florian said. “They’re always out there.”

Ari asked: “But have they got a leader?”

“We have names,” Catlin said. “But there’s no one single leader that anybody knows.”

“Anton Clavery. Is that one?”

“A new name,” Catlin said. “Anton Clavery doesn’t show on any records. There is no CIT number.”

“An alias, then.”

“Or a nonperson,” Florian said. “Births happen off the record. Particularly Paxer children. And children from the outback don’t always get logged in.”

That was a small revelation–though not a huge surprise. She saw it could certainly happen, if parents opting for natural birth didn’t go to a hospital or register a birth for weeks–or months. Or never got around to it. “They’d have to intend to do this long‑term. Motive?”

“Secrecy from the authorities,” Florian said. “No registry of DNA, fingerprints, retinals, nothing of the sort. Hard to track a nonperson.”

“Hard to find a job, too,” Ari said. “How do they manage?”

Catlin hugged her knees up. “They borrow. Their job is being off the records and out of the system. They borrow cards, to ride public transport. People steal for them: they use a stolen card, then dump it before they get caught. They always have jobs. They’re employed by clandestine groups. They’re greatly prized for employment in some circles.”

“Do we have data on the parents of these individuals? Do we try to track pregnant people that don’t register a child?” She was instantly interested: a subset of the Paxers, likely of other dissident groups. And she’d about bet they were all CIT, not azi, in origin. Azi‑descended weren’t inclined to plots, and they’d prize that CIT registry for their children: but CITs were inclined to be argumentative. People who’d opted to leave where they were and emigrate to Cyteen hadn’t been the happiest where they were, or they’d have stayed. They’d either been hungry for something they didn’t have, or they’d been at odds with where they were. Maybe a certain segment was at odds with the status quo again.

“There are names and numbers,” Catlin said. “Some are known. It’s a felony to fail to register a child–crime against person.”

Mark a new element. Novgorod had existed at the outlet of the Novaya Volga since Reseune had existed near its headwaters. Her predecessor’s mother, Olga, had seen the first days. So they weren’t that many generations into Novgorod’s existence. The Paxers had organized around opposition to the War, which had pretty well been going on since before Cyteen existed, in its cold war phase. But malcontents had been there probably since the second batch of people got to Cyteen Station in its pioneer days and complained about some regulation the first batch of colonists had voted on.

It took something, to deny your offspring a number, a normal life–medical care, and schooling, and easy travel, and everything else you could do with a CIT number.

“People groomed just to get past surveillance,” she said. “I suppose they’re more used than users. I can’t see it would be a happy life. But if there was a nonperson who was really, really a black hole in the system, and he was really smart, he could get power, I suppose. If he was really determined, if he had a lot of arms and legs, he could do damage.”

“He could,” Florian said. “You’d only see the arms and legs. And Anton Clavery doesn’t exist. A nonperson is one possibility. A hollow man is the other thing you have to deal with. A dead person anybody can be, if he pays the rent on the identity. Back during the War, there were even a few instances of Alliance agents–stationers. Not spacers, that we never found. The stationers didn’t cope well, however.”

“There are a lot of schemes in Novgorod,” Catlin said. “Cons and schemes alike.”

“One thing Novgorod CITs are in my notes as being,” Ari said, “is really good at finding ways around rules. I’m betting CITs descended from azi aren’t much inclined to be nonpersons. Or use hollow men. I’m betting that’s not in their psychsets. They’ll go to birthlabs, mostly, to have their children. They’ll get them registered. A CIT number is important to them.”

“I certainly don’t want one,” Catlin said. “But then I don’t want to be a CIT.”

“You’re not setted for it,” Ari said, which threw her into thinking about what would in fact happen to them if she died, the way Maman had left Ollie, and she didn’t want to think about that. It was one real good reason for her to live a long, protected life, was what. Two people relied on her, absolutely, and this Anton Clavery, whoever he was, whatever he was–threatened more than the Eversnow project. He had brought her really unpleasant questions, like currents running in Novgorod, among the Paxers, and the Rocher Party, the Abolitionists, who absolutely wouldn’t understand Catlin’s rejection of being a CIT. They’d want to freeher, depend on it.

“I’m glad I’m not,” Catlin said. “Most of the troubles anywhere in the universe are CIT.”

“Well, We do have our uses,” Ari said, a little more cheerfully.

“So we don’t have to do things,” Florian said. “You do them.”

“Well, right now I wish I could figure how to find a man who doesn’t exist.”

“We’ve looked through lab results,” Catlin said, “and the rush from the blown window and the blast from the grenade messed up the sniffer, so we don’t even have the smell of this person, well, not much, at least, but we’re pretty sure it was male: we have a little bit of a scent. He was likely using a masker or a puffer to mess up the sniffers, to boot, but all we really have is Dr. Patil’s saying the name before she died. We don’t know if she recognized him as breaking in, or if she just thought of him when someone else was about to kill her. The way she said it–’the name is Clavery’–seems to indicate she wanted Justin to remember that name and report it.”

“And it was definitively a grenade?” Ari asked.

“Yes. Hand launcher,” Catlin said. “they aren’t big. They carry farther than a toss can do. Unskilled people can use them the same way they’d use a handgun. Setting it off in a room wasn’t really appropriate use for it. But it was probably on a few seconds’ delay: that’s one advantage of a grenade. That would let the perpetrator get the door shut so he wouldn’t get blown out, too.”

“Using the launcher in that small a space says this was a novice,” Florian said. “Someone that was likely to make a mistake with a grenade, maybe freeze. The launcher–you just preset the delay you want, and pull the trigger. It could have sent the grenade halfway to Admin from here. In that little room, it probably stuck in the wall and then blew up: if it had hit the window, it would actually have done less damage. The door was shut by then: there was blast impact on its inside. The perpetrator was on his way out of there–if he wasn’t blown out, too. They tried sniffers outside the room, but he was probably using a puffer, and he was probably moving fast. They went ahead and took sniffer readings in every room on that floor and above and below, but they never found the launcher or the puffer, so that part was clever. Somebody probably took it from him, maybe somebody else took over the puffer as they passed in the hall–that’s the lab’s theory. If he didn’t land on a rooftop somewhere as yet undetected. Possibly the assassin was on building staff. I don’t think they’re going to find too much that’s useful. A lot of things about this are very well‑organized.”

“That could even mean they meant to give the impression of a novice,” Catlin said, “and whoever was running it really wasn’t. A grenade like that–it could have taken out the apartment downstairs. It didn’t. The owner downstairs was very lucky, or the assassins knew the building design.”

“Not nice, all the same,” Ari said.

“No,” Florian agreed. “Not nice. And Paxers haven’t been at all careful about collaterals. No rules.”

“If it was Paxers,” Catlin said.

“Paxers had the motive,” Ari said, “if they thought Patil was betraying their interests or selling out to Reseune. Paxers really don’t like us. But you’re right: there could be others. And where do you getgrenades and launchers?”

“Mostly from Defense,” Catlin said, “but there’s pilferage, mostly at Novgorod docks, and things can be had.”

“That needs fixing,” she said.

“It’s not easy to fix,” Florian said, “from what I hear.”

“First is to make sure they’re not hiring any Paxers dockside,” Catlin said, “which has happened.”

“That would be top of the list, yes,” Ari agreed. It was a wide, confusing world–unlike Reseune. But there were slinks in both, and they hadn’t found the one in their own halls, not yet: that there wasone, potentially–the movement of the card indicated there was.

“Sera,” Catlin said, “you have on file a list of all her contacts.”

“Yes. Largely Defense, and academics. Academics don’t have access to grenade launchers. Unless they’re getting them from Paxers.”

“Defense is having elections,” Florian said. “That’s a period of instability.”

“Namely?” Catlin said.

“Jacques and Spurlin backed Eversnow, but there’s Khalid. I’d expect Defense professionals to be more careful,” Florian said, and a little line appeared between his brows. “But the charge didn’tpenetrate the floor. Just blew the pressure out. Does anyone live downstairs? Do we know‑that? And who are they?”

“I did check about downstairs,” Catlin said, “a single man, Shoji Korsa. He was out on emergency assignment with his company. This appears a coincidence. Coincidences have to be proven. He’s an executive with Geotech. That company called him to Moreyville. His apartment wasn’t damaged, except a mirror broke. The building is being investigated for structural problems.”

“Meanwhile we’re investigating via the ReseuneSec link,” Florian said. “We’ve kept our inquiry out of Hicks’ awareness, sera, except for that. We’ve done a little, just to keep up the appearance of using his system. Should we ask him directly?”

Ari shook her head. “Not until we talk to Yanni. I imagine he’s upset about Patil. But I’d like to know how upset he is. Have you sent Yanni and Hicks the transcripts?”

“Yes,” Florian said.

“Good.” She’d ordered that, a gesture of good will. She was tired. It had been a long day with the computers, and she’d missed her lesson with Justin. Again. Her eyes were scratchy. Jordan had found out about Eversnow from somebody. And when she thought about things really hard, she got sleepy when she was in this state: that was ideas trying to find their way out of the maze. Regarding Justin. Regarding Paxers. Regarding two murders, one delicate, one a blunt‑force mess that might have destabilized an apartment tower. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“Shall I leave, sera?” Catlin asked.

Leaving her and Florian alone, Catlin meant, which would be good if she had any energy left, but she didn’t. She just wanted comfort. And ideas wouldn’t happen if there was sex, so it wasn’t a good idea on that account, either.

“Stay,” she said. Her gown was thin, the room was chilled down for night, on the minder’s program, and they in their gym sweats were warm, longtime company. She made a place under the covers for all of them, and they got under, Florian in the middle, and tucked down together, the way they had before they’d ever discovered sex.

She could let her mind go, then, and just think, and she did.

If Patil had recognized Anton Clavery in the person who’d showed up with a grenade launcher, then she’d met him under that name. Novice, Florian and Catlin had said. And thatwould seem to rule out anyone important or anybody military. Unless, Florian and Catlin had said, it was someone trying to leave the scene looking like a novice.

If Patil called out that name in the face of an armed man and her imminent death, she’d tried to send Justin a message regarding someone she counted as a threat, or the source of threats. “They,” she’d said. A mysterious “they” had been watching her, scaring her, making her desperate enough to call Justin to try to get through to Jordan.

And why Jordan? Why not ask him to go to Yanni?

Jordan’s name had been popularly attached to the dissidents. They’d campaigned to get him released. Thieu had been in favor of terraforming and against the forces that had stopped it, namely the first Ari. Giraud, Yanni, all that generation: Jordan said Thieu had regarded him with sympathy, and courted him, believing he’d murdered Ari.

It wasn’t a sweet old man, was it?

Thieu would have wanted herdead, likely. Thieu had wanted the planet terraformed, all the ankyloderms and platytheres dead, everything in the oceans–all done; and the first Ari hadn’t. The first Ari had been a citizen of the planet, and Olga Emory hadn’t influenced her enough–the first Ari had changed her mind and begun to protect it.

Like Gehenna, wasn’t it? This is your world…

Had that had an emotional resonance for Ari One, herself? Take care of it? Defend it? Protect it?

It did with her. Shewasn’t for losing what Cyteen had grown up to have. She’d defend it. And that would put her on the outs with Dr. Raymond Thieu, who’d been sure Jordan Warrick would take his side and admire his work and his intentions.

Maybe that was over‑romanticizing it. Maybe that was giving too much credit to Jordan because, bastard that he was, he hadn’t liked the man’s insistence. Jordan wasn’t anybody’s follower, he was nobody’s disciple. Free‑thinker, yes, argumentative son of a bitch, definitely, but not the sort that would sit in the shadows with anybody and connive and scheme…just not in his makeup. Not in Justin’s. In a certain measure, they had something in common, and damned sure when the first Ari intervened with Justin, it wasn’t to make him capable of connivance and subterfuge–she couldn’t think of anyone actually worse at it than Justin.

And Justin wanted the world as it was. He wanted to save the native fauna. Jordan wasn’t for destroying them so much as he was just for getting off the planet and going away and having all mankind living in space–living a lot like the Alliance folk, in steel worlds, in ships. Maybe with a forest at the heart of Pell, but that was not–not something that was going to be Jordan’s first project. He’d be trying to educate kids to be rational beings. That was what he used to do, before he became so angry.

He wasn’t Clavery, that was sure. But the two people they could reach who probably knew who that was…were both dead.

Clavery could be a nonperson or he could even be a hollow man sort of a nonperson, someone who’d never really existed, only who various people opted to be when they wanted to be somebody else. He could be a construct, a composite.

Even a foreigner. Somebody from Alliance. Somebody bent on mischief that could start the whole War again, and she didn’t think that was the case. If Patil had recognized him in her doorway, she’d known who she attached that name to, and she’d wanted it known to Justin and Jordan, as her last living act.

She couldn’t get through to Jordan, so she’d called Justin…

Couldn’t get through to Jordan.

But that was the one she’d wanted. Couldn’t get Thieu. So she wanted Jordan, as if he should know, or as if he should be warned.

Tell him about Anton Clavery? Thieu was dead, and that name was at issue, and Patil was terrified for her life? She’d gotten her message out. Not all of it. If she’d done a little less arguing with Justin and a little more saying what she had to say, the world would be safer.

It had been a collected, sensible gesture, in extremity. That at least was admirable. The first Ari would have done that, if she’d had time.

But, damn it, why had the woman had to feel her way with Justin and not just say it out loud?

Whoever hadn’t scrupled to kill two Specials was a person they urgently needed to find and deal with.

And which Specials were gone?

Both in nanistics. EverySpecial in nanistics. There were researchers and experts, but the brilliant people, the theorists, were gone.

A bad trade for the universe, she could think: whether she supported the project or not, they’d lost two geniuses in the same field.

It slowed Eversnow waydown. Therewas a problem for Yanni’s program, wasn’t it? Yanni had to move fast, and sign some people, replacing Patil, or his project was going to fall through. Deals Yanni had made with Corain and Jacques were now subject to review.

She ought to be happy about that, but she’d promised Yanni not to oppose Yanni’s objective.

Maybe somebody thought they’d now gotten the better of Yanni, and reduced his political power.

Somebody might have second thoughts about that move if Yanni turned out not to be in charge, and if they suddenly saw they were dealing with someone who was going to be in authority for a hundred years.

But then–maybe it was the project itself that had stirred this kind of opposition. Maybe it was nudging somebody else’s territory. And if someone thought getting rid of Patil and Thieu would stop Reseune from a project Reseune needed–

Well, Yanni needed to talk to her about what was going on, and it had to be very, very soon.

BOOK THREE Section 2 Chapter viii

JUNE 14, 2424

1802H

Another dinner with Yanni…and Yanni had protested, this time. He’d claimed he was too busy, said he had far too many things to do, and she was impinging on the little relaxation he did get.

Dear Yanni,she’d written back, urgent. Be here at 1800h.

And he was.

He did look tired. She showed him right into the dining room, and Haze personally offered him a drink. “What are we eating?” he asked, sensibly, and Haze suggested an early start on the wine, a white, which Yanni agreed would be fine. So it was a Sauvignon Blanc for both of them.

The first sip went down with a deep sigh. Followed by a second. Yanni wasn’t reckless in that regard, not like Jordan in the least. She had one sip, just one, and waited.

“We have a new cook,” she said. “I don’t know what he’s put together, but it should be good.”

“Thanks for the transcripts on the Patil case,” he said, straight to business.

“No problem,” she said, and signaled Haze, who was doing the serving tonight, with Florian entertaining Frank in the conference room, and Catlin on hold for her dinner, just quietly standing in the corner, silent as a statue. Haze brought the appetizers, bacon‑wrapped shrimp, and Yanni’s disappeared fast, without a comment. She gave a second signal, and salads arrived, delicate greens, with a light vinaigrette.

That started going down, too, as if Yanni were half‑starved, and Yanni’s wine was at a quarter of the glass left.

“Yanni,” she said. “You’re worried about something.”

“I’ve got a lot of pieces trying to come unglued,” Yanni said, and swallowed a bite. “Sorry. I’m just elsewhere this evening, I’m afraid.”

“Who’s Anton Clavery?”

“Not a pleasant dinner conversation,” Yanni said.

“But this is our window to have this conversation, unless you want to stay for drinks, and I know you’re tired. Yanni, I need to know what’s going on.”

“We don’t know. Clavery’s nobody. Literally, nobody.”

“Nonperson?”

“Something like.”

“Did he kill Patil?”

“Behind it, we’re pretty sure. Not the hand on the trigger, necessarily, but–”

“Why did he kill Patil?”

“Because…” Another bite went down, chased by the rest of the wine. “Because Patil was coming over to Science, or because certain people know about Eversnow, and shouldn’t, and that blew up before it ever got to public knowledge.”

“Jordan?”

Last bite. She pressed a silent signal, and Haze came in and removed the plates, while Yanni had to think about that question.

Haze refilled Yanni’s wine glass. Yanni let it sit.

“Jordan knew about Eversnow,” she said. “He said he did. I gave you thattranscript, too Did you lie to me, Yanni? I thought you were honest. But maybe you’re just good.”

Yanni nodded. “When I have to be. Yes, I told him about it. He didn’t approve. He hit the ceiling, in fact.”

“In your office before you left. Thatwas what the fight was really about.”

“Young sera, you know quite a lot.”

“It was pretty famous, Uncle Yanni. You weren’t very quiet. And Jordan is news. So yes, I heard there was a fight. So did everybody in Admin and Ed. Why did you tell him?”

Long silence. And Haze wasn’t going to come back in until signaled.

“We’re the same generation,” Yanni said. “Old associates. I know the way he thinks. He was in on the project at the beginning. I didn’t want him to find out later and blow up or go behind my back. I wanted to control how he learned and what he thought and know what his movements were once he knew. And I pretty well got the reaction I thought I’d get, so Jordan didn’t surprise me in that respect. He doesn’t like it. He said he’d had enough of Thieu, and I was crazy, and terraforming anything was a good way to get biologicals loose we just won’t like. Old argument, with Jordan. I said he didn’t like planets on principle, and he said they were good for studying, but he’d rather not live there if he had any choice. And he asked me about his transfer to Fargone, old topic. Which I told him was dead. Totally dead. He’s not going anywhere in the foreseeable future. He shouted. I shouted. He called me a damned fool. We weren’t on record.”

“Somebody slipped that card into his pocket, and it turned up, he says, the night you got back from Novgorod, from all this dealing. You didn’t do that, did you?”

“No.”

“Can I believe that? Did anybody working for you do it? Do I have to pare it down until something finally fits?”

“I have no idea where that came from, or, more to the point, how whoever did it knew Jordan knew– ifthey knew Jordan knew. It’s a damned maze. And it wasn’t my doing.”

“He’s connected to Thieu. Thieu didn’t know about Eversnow, or did he?”

“Thieu did know something, because we made a request for his Eversnow notes back when we set this up.”

“Thieu hadnotes on Eversnow in his files?”

“He doesn’t, now. Didn’t. We borrowed them and didn’t return them. But yes, he was doing some work on that once upon a time. Defense had used his work, in their little version of the Eversnow project. We’d studied it. It’s foundational to what we propose to do next.”

“Hell, Yanni! That’s a little oversight in informing me!”

“It’s a worrisome piece of information to leave out, I agree. Doubly so, now.”

“I don’t suppose Patil phoned Thieu to advise him when she got the appointment. I don’t suppose she said the word Eversnow.”

“He didn’t get a phone call. He did get the advisement back in April that she’d taken a job at ReseuneSpace on Fargone: she sent him a message to that effect, He was not mentally what he had been. But possibly–possibly he did put two and two together. Possibly he knew very well what she was doing, a nanistics Special on the farthest station outward, next to Eversnow. Where he would have gone, if they’d gone ahead with his program.”

“And before that he was bedeviling Jordan to contact her. Contact her. As if Jordan could. But we have just a slight clue what he wanted Jordan to find out, don’t we? If you gave Patil his notes…don’t you think that explains just a little bit? He had no warning at all that Jordan was actually going to get out of Planys. But he knew Jordan had contacts inside Reseune, that he has a son here. And you just lifted his files and sent them where he couldn’t get them, so small wonder he was a little agitated. How long ago?”

“During Denys’ tenure. Late last year.”

“The man was a Special. It was his life’s work. His stuff was disappearing. They were never going to run his work on Cyteen. He knew that better than anybody, if he’d managed the remediation program. And there’s the military nanistics program–he worked on that during the War, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“And he workedon Eversnow, you snatched his files, and he knew the only planet we own where it’s remotely appropriate to use the terraforming data isEversnow. And Patil was moving to Fargone, right next door.”

“He was in rejuv failure. The notes were classified. It was perfectly logical we take them, in his retirement. We don’t know how much of all that he put together. The rejuv failure was progressing fast. We’re talking about a few months, here.”

“Does Patil have them in her possession? Were they possibly in her apartment?”

Yanni shook his head. “No. They were sent on to Fargone–copies were. She didn’t have them yet.”

She let go a short breath. “Thank God for that.”

“She didn’t have them, and they’re in a military courier’s black box en route. Nobody can get at them butsomeone with the keyword.”

It didn’t make her feel that much better. “So Defense has them.”

“Can’t access them. Not unless they’ve messed with the black boxes themselves. Don’t even talk about getting into those. Elections. The stock market. Public records. There’s deeper security on that system than anything else we’ve got. It’ll feed into Fargone Central, totally robotic, and it has a gate‑restriction on it. It won’t feed out again until someone arrives there with a password. That’s the way it works. Those notes will be sealed, until someone authorized shows up there.”

“What password? Do you know it? Or who does know it?”

“I won’t tell you here. I know it. I hadn’t even told Patil. I willtell you.”

“Do. Please. That’s too thin a thread, Yanni. There’s security, but that’s way too thin a thread. Catlin.”

“Sera.”

“Paper.”

Catlin went to a sideboard, got a single sheet of paper and a pen, and gave them to Yanni. He wrote, and Catlin carried it to her. Alphanumeric, long, and without mnemonics evident. GIIW20280082Y2.

Then 28912HW. And W/18.

She tucked that paper into her decolletage. “Ash before midnight,” she said. “Thank you, Yanni.”

A nod of his head. Catlin had resumed her place. Likely had already memorized it, in the one glance she’d gotten. Catlin was good at that.

“So do we have a copy here at Reseune?” she asked.

“It’s there,” he said. “Filed in your archive.”

She had to be amused. They hadn’t turned it up by accident. It wasn’t part of the ordinary Library archive, nor Security’s ordinary file, not out there. “What else have you stored in my files?”