Zane ‘Man Mountain’ DeWitt leaned through the door of Novak’s office. “He’s in the chair, boss, just as you ordered.”
“Good.” His messages sent, Novak closed the lid of his concealed desktop keyboard and locked it back into place. “How long until he wakes up?”
“Doc Chin says about an hour. He put a double dose of sedative in Quan’s java, just to be sure. That little ninja has some serious fighting skills.”
“I want you and Croft in there with me. Chin can monitor the session from next door, but he’s not to enter the interrogation room until I ask for him.”
The big man’s brow furrowed. “Something’s changed, hasn’t it? You haven’t been the same since that day you came back from Med Services. Are you okay, boss?”
“I wanted to see whether my mother had survived the war, so I had my DNA compared to the updated population databank.”
“And the results weren’t what you were hoping for?”
He paused. “No, but they explained a lot. They showed me who I really am. And today we’re going to make Nestor Quan wish he’d never met me. Or Chin, for that matter.”
“Sounds messy,” DeWitt remarked. “Do you want the surveillance eye turned off?”
“No. Chin’s going to want to watch this. Warn Croft not to react to anything he hears. I’ll do all the talking. When I give the two of you an order, I want you to follow it without saying a word.”
DeWitt gave him a toothy grin. “A blast from the past, boss?”
“Long overdue,” Novak muttered grimly.
One hour later, he walked through the door of the interrogation room and found DeWitt and Croft standing stolidly to either side of the EIS’s specially designed interrogation chair. Leather cuffs buckled Quan’s wrists and ankles firmly to its bent-pipe arms and legs, and a matching leather collar fastened his neck to its head support, permitting no more than a couple of centimeters of movement in any direction. A feature of these restraints was that they grew tighter if the subject struggled against them. Apparently, Quan had forgotten that fact in the seven years since he’d last occupied the chair. The collar looked uncomfortably snug around his throat.
“Finally!” he exclaimed. “Will you please tell your mute henchmen here that they’ve made a mistake and order them to release me?”
“It’s no mistake, Quan.”
A chair had been brought in for Novak, but he chose not to sit.
“I beg to differ,” spat the prisoner. “When my people find out—”
“How? How are they going to find out? We’ve kept you incommunicado for seven years. For all you know, the war might already be over, and your side might have lost. And yet, there you are, making threats as though you actually have some power over me.” He paused. “Do you remember my telling you earlier that when I run out of patience, you’ve run out of time? Well, it’s happened, Quan. I’ve heard enough of your lies.”
“They weren’t lies!”
Novak shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe they were half-truths, spun dizzy to serve your own personal agenda. But that’s all they were, and we both know it. In any case, I’m done listening to you. Now you’re going to listen to me.” Turning to DeWitt, he added, “Gag him.”
“No, wait!”
Too late. Croft had already produced a strip of cloth, knotted in the middle, and handed it to DeWitt. For the first time since they’d met, Novak saw concern on Quan’s face. Fear would have been preferable, but he’d settle for this, for now.
Quan fussed and protested for several moments after the gag was in place. Then he fell silent, the apprehension in his eyes giving way to a baleful stare that made Novak glad ‘the ninja’ was securely buckled down.
“I should have realized what you were much earlier,” said Novak, leaning in and returning the stare, with interest. “But I finally figured you out. You see, we have something in common, Quan. We make a show of playing by the rules, but deep down, we’re both criminals. People like us don’t work for other people. We work for ourselves. That’s why you don’t have any implants. It’s hard to skulk around in the shadows if you can be electronically tracked.”
Novak glanced at DeWitt and Croft. They were standing like statues. Their expressions were masks of indifference.
“So, I’m certain you’ve never worked for the Directorate, because all of their agents are optimized. And your claim to be working for the radical faction is probably bogus as well. You might have conned them into thinking you were on their side, I suppose, as long as you saw an opportunity to get something for Nestor Quan. Like the credits for selling Naguchi’s patents out from under him, and the reward for retrieving the experiment he’d stolen. And maybe a ready-made spy network that you could use to grab some power for yourself on Stragon. Nod if I’m getting close to the actual truth here.”
Quan’s fists were clenched, and the visible part of his neck was a taut rope of muscle, giving Novak his answer.
“Now, the trap that you threatened my agents with earlier might actually exist,” he continued. “But really, that’s irrelevant now, because while you were snoozing, I cut them all loose.”
The ninja eyes widened briefly with surprise.
“You heard me correctly, Quan. Earth Intelligence is closing up shop. I’ve aborted all current missions and discharged my operatives. And all the resources they’ve been able to call on here on Earth have already begun going away. Will any of my former agents align themselves with the radical faction? They might. I don’t know. The important thing is, I won’t be ordering them to do it. And neither will you, because you’re going away as well.
“You’ve enjoyed our hospitality long enough. Now it’s time to clear your account. You’ve abused my trust. You destroyed Nayo Naguchi. He was my friend. And street justice dictates that we now destroy you.” Turning once more to DeWitt and Croft, he said, “Get Dr. Chin in here. Tell him to bring enough sedative to put this little scrag out of our misery for good.”
Quan tried once more to speak, but the gag was too effective.
Novak leaned in and told him quietly, “Like I said, I’m a criminal, clearly a more powerful one than you are right now. And in case you were wondering, Barry Novak doesn’t exist anymore. There’s just me, Rex Regum, king of the Warrior Kings.”
“How long do you want him to sleep?” asked Naguchi’s voice behind him.
Still staring into Quan’s now-fallen face, Novak replied, “Forever. I want him dead. Do it.” Then he stalked out of the room.
Thirty minutes later, Naguchi came to the conference room on the sixth floor to find him. Novak was staring darkly into his second cup of java. He glanced up, keeping the frown on his face, as the doctor stepped through the doorway.
“How long did you put him out for?” Novak demanded.
Naguchi threw him a reproachful look. “You knew I couldn’t actually kill him.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t. How long, Nayo?”
“I’ve put him into a chemically-induced coma. It will last until the counteracting drug is administered.” Naguchi pulled out the adjacent chair and sat down. “Do you know what you’re going to do with him?”
“I know what I’d like to do with him, but I don’t think you would approve.” Novak exhaled gustily. “Where is he now?”
“I’ve had him moved to the infirmary. He can stay there as long as necessary. And did I hear you say you’ve aborted all the missions on Stragon?”
“Quan didn’t leave me much choice. I’ve alerted our agents that they may have been compromised. Their instructions now are to suspend activities and await further orders. Which, if I can figure out a way to extract them all without arousing suspicion, will be to report to a rendezvous point.”
“So you were lying when you said you’d just ‘cut them loose’.” Naguchi sounded relieved.
“Of course. I may not be able to bring them all the way back to Earth, but I’m sure as hell not going to leave them within reach of Quan’s radical friends.”
“Boss?”
They turned and saw DeWitt filling the doorway.
“There’s an ‘eyes only’ transmission sitting on your computer from whoever’s been using that unassigned channel.”
That would be Paul Rodrigues, now posted back on Daisy Hub. Novak excused himself and headed for the lift.
When Rodrigues specified “eyes only”, it was something important. The last such message had been a warning about the start of the Corvou war. As he strode down the eighth-floor corridor toward his office, Novak could feel a stirring in his gut. This was going to be bad news. He could practically smell it.
He dropped onto the chair at his desk, activated the decrypter, opened the file, and read:
These documents speak for themselves. They came from a backup copy of the Stragori archival server. The Terrans on Stragon are at serious risk of illness and/or death. Townsend strongly advises leaking the documents through agents already on Stragon to motivate Terrans to evacuate the refugee settlement.
Intrigued, Novak pulled up each of the documents in turn. By the time he’d finished absorbing their contents, his jaw was so tightly clenched that it ached.
Townsend had recommended an evacuation, but Novak knew from experience what leaked information generally led to. He’d witnessed the violence on Earth in the months just before the Corvou war. When nearly 27 million Terran refugees rose up in outrage, it would take far more than his eleven agents to control the chaos. The EIS would be forced to reach out for help. The moderate and radical factions would see this as an opportunity to swell their respective ranks. They would vie to form alliances, creating division among the Humans as well and placing them, as Olivia had once put it, “smack in the middle of someone else’s civil war”.
It was a lose-lose situation. Novak could either do nothing and let untold numbers of Terrans slowly sicken and die, or order Angeli to leak the documents and spark a revolt that could quickly cost just as many people their lives. If there was a third possibility, he wasn’t in a position to see it.
He filled his lungs and let out a loud and heartfelt curse. Then, feeling only marginally better for it, he made his decision and got busy at his keyboard.
—— «» ——
When the message from R. Bascomb appeared in Novak’s InfoComm inbox one week later, the first thing that came to his mind was suspicion. There was no good reason for anyone with that last name to be contacting him.
Warily, he opened and read the text. Richard Bascomb, the general’s youngest son, was requesting an in-person meeting the following morning in the most public location in the District. Logic and experience told Novak to refuse this invitation. However, his curiosity had been piqued.
He agreed to the talk.
Arriving early, Novak positioned himself behind a vacant pedestal — the statue that had once occupied it had been an early casualty of the pre-war rioting — and watched as a man emerged from the front doors of the District Administration Building. The man sat down on a bench halfway across the square. He was the only other person in the vicinity, and the way he kept glancing around fairly broadcast the fact that he was waiting for someone. This could only be Richard Bascomb.
Gazing at his half-brother was almost like looking in a mirror. Bascomb had the same build and coloring as his own, wore his hair the same length, even parted it on the same side. His face was a little narrower than Novak’s and adorned with a neatly-trimmed blond beard. Still, the resemblance between them was unmistakable.
“He’s alone, boss,” said DeWitt’s voice in Novak’s ear. “Unless he’s miked. Hard to tell from this distance.”
“Copy that, Zane. I’ll be careful.”
It was time to show himself. Stepping out from cover, Novak strolled toward the bench.
“Richard Bascomb?”
“Call me Rick,” the other man replied, getting to his feet to shake hands. “And you’re Barry Novak?”
“I am.”
They sat down side by side.
“You were probably surprised to hear from me,” said Rick. “Supreme Adjudicator Lynette Ellenshaw recommended that I contact you. She told me that you and Madame Vargas had been friends for a long time.”
Novak slipped a surreptitious hand into his pocket and activated the jamming device he’d brought with him. “For more than thirty years,” he confirmed.
“You must have been devastated when Regional Security found her remains in that firepit in The Flats.”
“Yes. It all happened so fast … quite difficult to accept.” In fact, Novak had nearly had a fit when Ridout had mistaken the timing and put them within a hair’s breadth of blowing the entire operation.
Rick looked as though he wanted to say more about that. Did he suspect it had been a con? Novak remained tensely silent. He didn’t dare disappear two Chief Adjudicators in less than a month, but that didn’t stop the EIS mantra from repeating inside his head: Turn him or terminate him.
“Lynette also told me that you and Madame Vargas sometimes did favors for each other,” he said at last.
“Yes, as friends often do.”
“Giving warnings, solving problems, fixing mistakes…?”
“Providing comfort and support in a variety of ways,” Novak summed up warily.
“Lynette has mentioned to me that, as the new Chief Adjudicator, I would be well advised to have such a friend.”
“That sounds like wise counsel. Are you saying she suggested asking me to be that friend?”
“Would it be an improper request if she had?”
“No, only I can’t help wondering why a man with two older brothers would need to ask a stranger to watch his back.”
“He would if those two brothers considered him to be a stranger as well.”
“Ah. I see.”
“You and I have things in common, Barry Novak, starting with a father who wishes we were both dead. Don’t worry — he doesn’t know about you, and I’m not about to tell him. In fact, the general and I haven’t spoken to each other in years. When DNA testing was made publicly available, I asked to be quietly notified about anyone whose analysis revealed a connection to the Bascomb family.”
“Why?”
“So I wouldn’t have to ask a total stranger to watch my back. And I wanted the information kept confidential so that relatives with a different last name wouldn’t have to worry about watching their own. Sadly, even though we just met, you’re already more of a brother to me than Hugh and Darren ever were or will be. I’d like to get to know you better. From the way Lynette talked about you, I’m pretty sure you already know a lot about me. I’m hoping we can build a relationship, maybe not as close as what you had with Juno Vargas, but … something. What do you think? Is it worth pursuing?”
Turn him or terminate him. There were possibilities opening up here. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter what Rick Bascomb knew.
“I think we can give it a try,” said Novak with deliberate casualness. “Just out of curiosity, who are you concerned might come after you?”
“Any number of my father’s enemies. Once upon a time, the Bascomb family business was tailoring. My grandfather made uniforms for all the Security forces. Then my father decided that revenge would be his business. I don’t know exactly when or why. All I know is, by the time I was born, he was a cold, bitter man, driven by hatred and not even bothering to hide the fact. Growing up in that family was like living in a war zone. I tolerated it for as long as I had to. Then, on my sixteenth birthday, I celebrated my majority by crossing The Flats and becoming a farmer.
“When I returned to New Chicago as the District Councilor for the Agricultural Zone, I discovered how many powerful people my father had managed to smack off during my absence. In some circles, just saying the name ‘Bascomb’ is enough to raise hackles, and being a Bascomb is enough to raise fists. My father does an excellent job of protecting himself and my brothers. Me? I’m the traitor, not worth his time and effort. That makes me an easy target for anyone with a grievance against the other three, just because we share a last name.”
“Have you thought about changing it?”
“It’s a little late for that. Besides, the way everything is recorded these days, anyone who wanted to could track me down, no matter what name I was using.”
“Have you had any problems so far? Any confrontations?”
“Not really. There have been a lot of snide comments and innuendo. And a couple of veiled threats. Lynette overheard one of them. That’s when she gave me your commcode and recommended I get in touch with you. She also said that you would be interested in knowing who had made that threat. It was Supreme Adjudicator Patricia Chen.”
If Chen was spewing venom at a Bascomb, it meant Novak’s suspicion was correct — the general had something on her and was using it to his own advantage.
“All right, Rick. I might be able to help you with this. And there might be things that you could help me with as well. Let’s start with getting Chen on your side and go from there. I’ll do some digging and get back to you.”
—— «» ——
Back at his office in the Zone, Novak composed a carefully worded message to Lynette Ellenshaw, the Supreme Adjudicator for Americas.
She replied promptly: Let’s talk.
Late that afternoon, as he pulled into the driveway of Juno Vargas’s former residence in Millbrook Enclave, he saw an imposing, dark-skinned woman with purple hair standing on the verandah, waving at him. This was Lynette Ellenshaw, exactly as Olivia had described her.
She watched him stop his vehicle and step out of it, then called out cheerfully in a warm alto voice, “I understand you’re in the market for a house.”
Evidently, she thought the mansion was still under surveillance. He grinned at her and went along with the charade. “I always wondered what it would be like to live in a place like this. Have you had any nibbles?”
“Nothing serious,” she replied, pressing her thumb to the front door lock. “These homes are expensive to maintain, and the last couple of years have taken their toll on this one….”
Once they were inside, Novak put a silencing finger to his lips and swept the front of the house for bugs. As he’d anticipated, there weren’t any. With Juno Vargas gone and the mansion empty, there was no longer a reason for anyone to be listening in. Still, the Supreme Adjudicator watched him, nervously biting her lip.
“We’re clear,” he told her.
“Thank goodness! When Juno made me the executor of her will, I didn’t realize I’d end up the custodian of so many secrets.”
“What made you buy this place?”
“Juno left it to Gael Dedrick, the last legitimate Forrand heir. He told me he had no use for the house or anything in it and instructed me to sell it all off. When I heard a rumor that General Bascomb was preparing to make an offer on the property, I snapped it up myself, just to keep it out of enemy hands. Now I’m thinking of fixing it up and renting it out. But you didn’t set up this meeting to discuss real estate, did you?”
“No, I didn’t. I need a favor,” he told her. “A small one. Can you get me a private audience with Patricia Chen?”
“She’ll want to know what it’s about.”
“Tell her I’m aware of her problem, and that I believe I can help her solve it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “In exchange for…?”
“You’re complaining about having to keep Juno’s secrets. You want to add mine as well?”
“I guess not,” she sighed. “No promises, Barry, but I’ll relay your request. Then I’ll step aside. If she’s interested, she’ll contact you directly. If she doesn’t, you’ll have your answer.”
It was the best that he could expect. “Thank you, Madame Supreme Adjudicator. I appreciate your assistance. By the way, what would you be charging as rent on a place like this?”
She appraised him up and down before replying, “I doubt that you could afford it.”
“Could a junior District Councillor?”
Her lavender eyes twinkled mischievously. “Perhaps.”
Novak knew what she was thinking: It would drive the general crazy if his least-favorite son ended up living in a larger and grander home than his own. Truth be told, it would look good on both of them.
—— «» ——
The bench in the square outside the District Administration Building was getting a lot of use lately, Novak reflected wryly. This morning, Patricia Chen was sitting in the middle of it, holding a cup of java in one hand and a serviette-wrapped pastry in the other, and not looking genuinely interested in either one of them. Patricia was a good name for her. A dark-haired beauty with classical features, she projected an ageless, aristocratic air.
He activated the jamming device in his pocket, then strolled across the pavement toward her.
“Do you mind if I sit here, Madame Supreme Adjudicator?” he asked.
She’d been deep in thought. His voice startled her into glancing up.
“You’re Mr. Novak?” she replied. “You look familiar. Where do I know you from?”
“I own SecuriTech. We hold the installation and maintenance contract for all the surveillance gear in this building. I visit the premises from time to time, so you’ve probably seen me around.”
“Ah.” She smiled briefly at him, then frowned and turned away. “According to Lynette, you’re the man who knows what everyone else is doing. And you think I have a problem.” She gestured to him to have a seat.
“I’m pretty sure you must,” he said, easing himself down onto the bench beside her. “If George Bascomb feels safe about pulling your strings, then the odds are he’s holding something over you. I’m assuming that’s the case, based on your attitude toward the junior District Councilor who shares his last name. Of course, I could be wrong. If so, tell me, and I’ll walk away now and never mention this meeting again. But if I’m right, and you tell me what he has on you, I’ll make it go away.”
She threw him a disbelieving look. “And then you’ll have something on me. Or, even worse, what if you fail? Then two people will know my secret instead of just one.”
“Normally, that would be a risk. But I won’t fail. One way or another, I’ll see to it that your secret is … buried.”
She gasped. “Do you realize what you’ve just suggested doing?”
“Yes. And once I’ve succeeded, you’ll have something on me.” He turned and locked eyes with her. “There’s a small price for this favor, Madame Supreme Adjudicator.”
She stiffened in her seat. “What is it?”
“Richard Bascomb is a decent man, new to the ways of power. He also hates his father even more than you do, and the feeling is mutual. All of that puts him in a very vulnerable position. It would be a shame if the job of Chief Adjudicator turned out to be too much for him.”
“And the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” she said thoughtfully. “All right, Mr. Novak. It isn’t a small price, but I’ll pay it. We have a deal. I’ll tell you what Bascomb knows, but not here.” She darted a glance over her shoulder. “Too much surveillance.”
“I know a secure place where we can talk. Tell Lynette that you’re interested in seeing the house she has for rent. Set up a viewing time, and I’ll meet you there.”
—— «» ——
Unlike the rooms upstairs, which had been “decluttered” in preparation for showing the house to potential buyers, the clean room in the basement was almost exactly as Juno Vargas had left it. Novak stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the pair of midnight blue loveseats, the lighter blue padded armchairs, and the large, glass-topped wrought iron coffee table.
There was a slight chill in the air. Also a slight echo. Chen stepped around him, hugging her shoulders. “She’s still here,” she whispered hoarsely. “I can feel her presence.”
No, he thought, Juno was definitely gone. Her silver tea tray that would have completed the picture had been sold at auction.
Out of habit, he pulled the bug detector out of his pocket and scanned for listening devices. “We’re clear,” he said. “Shall we sit?”
Wordlessly, she settled herself onto one of the chairs. He took Juno’s customary place on the adjacent loveseat.
“Tell me what Bascomb knows about you,” he said.
She shuddered a little. “Patricia Chen isn’t my real name. I was born on Ginza Hub, to an indentured sex worker. As was the practice there, the birth was never registered with Data Management on Earth.”
“And…?”
She dragged in a breath, then continued, “When I was fourteen, my mother’s owner wanted to sell me to a porn show. My mother objected, and he beat her, badly. That night, I stole into his bedroom with a wrench and hit him in the head with it, more than once. Then I stowed away aboard a supply ship that was leaving port the next morning. The ship-owner found me shortly after departure. As it happened, he’d recently lost his wife and fifteen-year-old daughter in an accident out on one of the colonies. I resembled his daughter physically and was alone in the world, so he offered to help me. When we got to Earth, he took me to a Data Management center, told them the death report from the colony was a clerical error, and had them process me and issue me a fresh biowafer with his daughter’s name on it. After that, I was Patricia Chen. And Abe Chen became the loving father I’d never had.”
“You never told him about the murder?”
“I’ve never told anyone, until now.”
“Then how did George Bascomb learn about it?”
She dropped her gaze to her lap. “I let my curiosity get the better of me. I wanted to find out whether my birth mother was still alive.”
Novak could relate to that.
“And because you were already in his crosshairs, he knew that you’d initiated the search. That gave him a starting point for a search of his own,” Novak concluded.
“He came to me with the results,” she said bitterly. “Apparently, there’s an outstanding arrest warrant on Ginza Hub with my birth name on it. If the truth came out about me, my family on Earth would be ruined, and I would be arrested and extradited to stand trial in a jurisdiction where every rotten thing that owner did was just business as usual.” She raised liquid brown eyes to his face. “If you’re having second thoughts about helping me, I don’t blame you.”
“Was your birth mother still alive?”
Frowning now, she replied, “No. I wasn’t able to find out her cause of death, but I can guess how it happened. I saw a lot of it when I was a kid.”
He didn’t press for details. “What about your adoptive father? Still living?”
“He was fatally injured in a flash riot in Vancouverville, just before the war.”
“I’m sorry.”
She leaned back in her seat with a sigh. “He was eighty-five. I warned him to stay indoors, but he insisted it was his civic duty to protest.”
“Is there anything you still haven’t told me?” Novak asked. She shook her head. “Did you ever try to verify what Bascomb told you?”
“Quite honestly, I was afraid it might give him even more to hold over me.”
“In that case, it’s clear what you have to do now.”
“What I have to do?” she repeated uncertainly.
“Don’t worry, Madame Supreme Adjudicator. Everything you’ve told me is strictly confidential. I will take care of your problem. Meanwhile, Lynette is waiting outside to drive you back to your office. You’re going to return to your daily routine and pretend we never had this conversation. I’ll make sure nothing leads back to you. When it’s all over, you’ll know.”
—— «» ——
Sufficient time had passed. Novak called DeWitt into his office and activated the signal jammer.
“I have a special assignment for you, Man Mountain.”
DeWitt perked up. The use of street names generally signaled that violence was about to ensue. “What do you need, boss?”
“I want Quan terminated. He’s been cluttering up the infirmary long enough. Make sure Chin isn’t around to see it. Unplug ‘the ninja’ from whatever he’s plugged into. Then take him for a ride into The Flats and finish him off. Make sure no one will find his body until long after you and I are dead of natural causes.”
“He won’t be missed?”
“According to the official records, he died seven years ago. So no, I don’t believe his absence will be noticed. Think of it as housecleaning. The Warrior Kings are back, and we don’t keep prisoners. Not any more.”