“Humility.”
He had risen to greet me.
“Byron.”
I can be polite too. I was trying to meet his eyes while taking in everything I could about the room. It was as small as I’d expected. The only reason for my first impression of size was that it was almost empty. There was a small table. There was one screen. Just one. I thought of the banks of monitors in Daisy’s office. Their constant movement. This screen was blank. I didn’t make the mistake of taking the lack of obvious circuitry for its absence. Not when he had a table like that. Its matt surface was a dark not-quite-black and I could almost feel the cyberlife which pulsed through it. I guessed it had more capacity than the combined power of all the other terminals in the Port. He’d brushed a palm against one edge when he stood up. Calling up data to his implants? Recording? Wiping something?
There were also two chairs in the room. He waved me to one as he sat back again into the other. Mine was comfortable and seemed uncomplicated. I didn’t ask what was built into the elegant structure of his.
He was sleek. There was no other word for the slick fit of coveralls which were not Company issue, the smooth gleam of his skin, the lack of any of the signs which betrayed an upbringing in the streets. When he smiled his teeth were even, white. There was no expression at all in his dark eyes.
“You wanted to see me?”
In person? The query about such unnecessary and unusual behaviour was unspoken. Then I remembered that I’d tried to get him on the phone and that he probably knew. And that I’d failed.
“Yes. I’m curious.”
“So you told me yesterday. Has your curiosity taken you far?”
If I could have answered I wouldn’t. I didn’t look forward to discovering just how far it might take me.
“I’m not talking about Jon. Not this time. It’s Daisy I’m concerned for.”
I’d thought about subtler approaches but decided that subtlety was something he probably specialised in. I had enough handicaps without trying to confront him on his own territory. Besides, bluntness might startle results out of him.
He didn’t seem startled. “Daisy? Oh yes, the Port Officer is a friend of yours.”
I didn’t for one nanosecond believe he had forgotten.
“Yes. And I wanted to find out how much you’re blaming her for this sabotage.”
He didn’t blink. “There’s four assumptions in there.”
“Four?” I’d only counted three.
“That there’s been any sabotage. That the Port Officer is its target. That she is being blamed for it. That I have any concern in the matter.”
He listed them with precision as though reading them from some inner screen. Perhaps he was. He certainly saw no need to tick them off on his fingers as I would have done.
“An audit doesn’t concern itself with sudden, unexplained Company losses?”
“It might.” It was as much of an admission as I was likely to receive. I was about to seize on it when he went on. “An auditor would need a good reason to discuss business with someone outside the Company. Especially someone who is still listed as Missing from her home, and who would appear to be living on a vessel to which she has no clear title.”
I’d known I was still Missing. It went with being Shunned. Though I contacted my mother every year on her birthday, I would remain Missing until I came to my senses and returned home. It was the bit about the Pig which had me gasping.
“What do you mean? I inherited the boat!”
“The ownership’s still registered to Jack Fane. Deceased. There’s an argument which says unclaimed property reverts to the state after a certain length of time.”
I didn’t ask how long. Didn’t want to know. My instinct was to get back to The Flying Pig and take her out of harbour as fast as the tide allowed. Only the suspicion that that would exactly suit this ’crat made me sit fast.
“The state,” I said deliberately, “can plug both ends into the same socket and go sit in a puddle for all I care. And if you don’t want to talk about Daisy then perhaps you’ll listen.”
His voice hadn’t changed from its polite blandness when he’d threatened the Pig. It didn’t change now. “Of course.”
“I just wanted to be sure you factored into your calculations the certainty that hurting the Port is not in her interest: its success is her ticket to further promotion. Out of the city. She’d be a fool if she undermined that. So, unless you think the Corps regularly appoints fools to senior jobs, that must mean someone else is behind what’s happening.”
“If I accept that there is anything, she could be after a bigger prize than promotion. There are more influential Families than the Vincis. If one of them is interested in this site, they might well prefer its development to fail. They might even offer an incentive to someone in a position to assist that failure.”
I’d laughed when Daisy had suggested it. I didn’t feel like laughing now.
As a child I’d played games of chase, of make-believe, of Them and Us. They had always involved the Families. When I’d been even younger there’d been chants, too. The Family names, chosen years ago from sentiment or whim by people whose own names meant little. Gates, Bismark, Nelson, Short. Vin-ci and Tal-ley-rand. I couldn’t even remember them without hearing the rhythmic repetitions. Of course the order sometimes changed, though Gates always came first.
Of the six Families which ran the Companies – which were, in effect, EuroGov – the one which owned Midway Port was the second smallest. Vinci. I don’t know much about business or politics, except that there’s little difference, but I did know that much. Byron had spoken as though he had as few feelings on the subject of Family rivalries as one of his computers, but I couldn’t take it so calmly. I pushed my chair back and stood up.
“If you believe that, your logic circuits have been screwing your common sense. Unless it’s cheaper to look for a scapegoat and never mind the truth.”
He didn’t react to insult or challenge. He didn’t react at all. I wondered just how deep that circuitry on his skull ran.
I headed for the door, conscious that I’d not only failed to learn anything but that I’d also probably made a fool of myself.
“In case you need to know, I’m going to speak to Daisy now. And don’t try to bug the Pig while I’m away!”
I don’t know why I said it, he’d already had opportunities enough, but it did get a reaction from him.
He laughed.
“Bug that boat? I doubt if I could. I’ve never seen anything with less to plug into. I don’t know how you survive on it even when it’s in harbour. At sea…” He shuddered.
In a way that cheered me up, even though it said he’d already looked into the subject. I didn’t believe he couldn’t do it, of course, but I liked the idea he might find it difficult. A challenge? I dismissed the thought before it could take root and left the room without troubling about how hard the door swung shut. I wondered as I left just how he’d managed my ladder in those smooth-soled boots.