Drowning World (27 page)

“It is my impression that all the other bioprospectors felt similarly about Mr. Hasselemoga.”

“Uh-huh. But I didn't see none of them hanging around those two skimmers that've gone missing on the two nights when port surveillance just happened to go out.”

From the last time they had talked, some of Seth's words suddenly came back to her in an explosive, damning rush.

“How's your luck been?”
she had asked him.

“Not so good. . . . I've got a couple of leads on some spots down south . . .”

Down south. That was where the reviled Shadrach Hasselemoga had gone missing. Had Sethwyn been working the same general area? Was he afraid that his detested but resourceful competitor would beat him to discoveries that Case believed were rightfully his to make? Had he seen to it that Hasselemoga's skimmer would crash and not be able to send out a call for help?

When a rescue skimmer had been sent out to look for the missing prospector, had Case been forced to make sure that it, too, would vanish without a trace, in hopes that no third party would be sent to look for those who had preceded it? Wasn't that exactly what had happened so far? Meanwhile, rumors flew that the Deyzara were behind the twin disappearances. Divert attention. A classic maneuver of the clever criminal. Was Case responsible for them, too?

Kamis was rising to go. “I just want you to know, Administrator, I'm not telling you about this because I've got anything against this guy Case. Or because I happen to like this Hasa fella. I don't even know him. I ain't doing it because I'm any more fond of Fluva than any other human bean unlucky to be stationed here. I'm telling you because I'm a regular churchgoer and it's against United Church orison for one sentient to belittle another with intent to cause harm. What happened to those two skimmers may or may not be the fault of this guy Case. Any stuff like that has yet to be proved. But the rumors ain't fair to the Deyzara. That's why I'm speaking up. I'd bet my pension they're not responsible for what happened.” He pushed his chair back into the table. “Maybe if you have a chat with Case, you'll find out for sure who is.”

She did not follow him with her eyes as he made his way back out through the crowded restaurant. Her vision, like her thoughts, was directed elsewhere. She sat at the table, hardly moving, staring at nothing, until the diffident Deyzara server approached. The two-trunks' speaking organ was bobbing fretfully.

“Your pardon, Administrator Matthias, but is there perhaps something wrong with the food?”

“What?” Absently she glanced down at the intricately inlaid and still heavily laden tray. “No. Nothing at all. I'm just . . .” Her voice strengthened and she rose from her seat. “I have to go. Emergency call.”

The server sighed knowingly through his trunk. “I am sorry for you. You must have to deal with a very great many of those in these uncomfortable times.”

She did not succeed in mustering a reply.

Somehow, she donned her rain cape and found her way back to the Administration Center, thankful that the eating establishment lay within walking distance and she did not have to use a skimmer or slider. Pedestrians who knew her called out greetings and were taken by surprise when she did not respond. It occurred to her that she was in a mild state of shock.

She wrenched herself out of it. She was too busy to be in shock. If she wanted to spend time in shock, she would have to set aside an appropriate length of time on her appointment calendar.

She was dimly aware that Pandusky spoke to her as she entered and strode past him. Possibly one or two other staff members did so as well. She wasn't sure. She could hear nothing except her own searing, agitated thoughts.

Throwing herself into her welcoming chair, she ignored the insistent flashes of light from her desk. Whatever it was could wait. Everything could wait.

Kamis's testimony was damning—but it was not conclusive. The maintenance worker had said as much himself. She needed more proof. She needed hard evidence to go with the little man's eyewitness account. Bergovoy would be no help. What would, what could, constitute the proverbial smoking gun? Fully alert and active now, her mind ran through a long list of possibilities. Eventually, she addressed the waiting desk.

“Sanuel?”

“Administrator Matthias, is there something—”

“Not now, Sanuel,” she interrupted brusquely. “Get in here. I've got a job for you.”

Her assistant arrived within seconds. The look of concern on his face was not addressed. She had no time for it.

Without preamble or explanation, she said, “You know the bioprospector Sethwyn Case? He's been here to talk to me on several occasions.”

Pandusky's expression remained perfectly neutral. “I remember him, yes.”

“I'm not surprised. You remember everything, Sanuel.” She did not give him time to respond to the mixed compliment. “I want to see his personal financial records for the past year, local time.” She raised a hand to forestall the reaction she knew was coming. “I know it's illegal. I also know you have the skills and resources to do it. It's a matter of Authority security.”

At that moment, her assistant looked more uncomfortable than she had ever seen him.

“I'll take full responsibility,” she continued. “If there's any fallout, I'll see to it that you are completely absolved of any liability.”

Still, he hesitated. “A matter of Authority security, you said?”

She nodded. “Utmost importance. Questions of life and death.”

Pandusky took a long, deep breath, didn't smile, and muttered, “Give me twenty minutes.”

He was back in fifteen. Matter-of-factly, he dumped the hard copy on her desk. “Will there be anything else, Administrator?”

She was already poring over the report. It was not extensive. “Not for now, Sanuel. I'll let you know.”

Nodding, he watched her read for a moment, then retreated gratefully from the room.

It did not take long to find what she was looking for. There were half a dozen suspicious transfers of credit. None was large enough to stand out, but they were all of approximately the same amount and in each instance the transfers into Case's account had taken place on consecutive days. One large payment broken up into several smaller ones to avoid drawing attention, she surmised. There was no proof that was the case, but it was not an unreasonable assumption. Particularly since every one of the suspect transfers was from a company called Poutukaa. She knew the name. It was part of her job to be at least cursorily familiar with such things.

Poutukaa was owned and operated by Sakuntala.

On the surface, there was nothing shady about the company. It dabbled in food processing and supply as well as the transshipment of goods among towns and villages. It might be involved in other enterprises as well; she couldn't remember. The key question was why and for what service was it paying Sethwyn Case substantial amounts of credit.

She ordered Poutukaa's confidential financial records accessed. With a look of reluctance and a sigh of distress, Pandusky went to work.

Geladu-tiv arrived in her office later that afternoon, escorted by two peaceforcers. She had the heavily armed soldiers remain, flanking the door to her outer office. The Sakuntala elder did not look happy. His tongue kept lolling out of one side of his mouth, and his tail would not be still. The strappings he wore were among the fanciest she had seen, an opulent mix of traditional weave, embossing, and engraving work that alternated with contemporary highlights.

She said as much. “Poutukaa must be doing well for its Hata to afford such costly raiment. I applaud your enterprise. You are proof that the Deyzara are not the only ones who can succeed in doing commerce with the business entities of the Commonwealth.”

Hauled off under armed guard to the office of the Authority administrator, the last thing the senior Sakuntala had expected was to be greeted with a compliment.

“Hauea, we do well enough.” He was trying very hard not to turn to look at the guards, who had their protective face shields down and their weapons at the ready. “Administrator Matthias, why have I been brought here? I a simple businessperson, just as you have declared.”

“Businessperson I have no doubt. Simple—that is another matter.” She indicated a thick pile of hard copy on her desk. “I have been reviewing your company records for the past year.”

Geladu-tiv looked startled. “You not permitted to do such a thing.”

“On your way out you may request the proper form for filing an official complaint.” She made a show of shuffling through the hard copy. “There are a lot of payments here to small groups and organizations that I am informed are active participants in the current troubles.”

As per prior instructions, one of the peaceforcers moved forward until he was standing close behind the Sakuntala senior. Very close. Threat by implication would be difficult to prove. Had a Church padre been present, he or she would have protested vociferously. But no United Church presence hovered over the little tableau that was being played out in her office.

Geladu-tiv struggled not to turn and meet the eyes of the very tall peaceforcer. “Poutukaa is a respected clan-based Sakuntala operation. It is no hotbed of radicals.”

“I believe you.” She indicated the hard copy. “However, Poutukaa is guilty of providing financing and support to factions that are.”

“To work profitably among Sakuntala is necessary to have good relations with all clans and groups. Sometimes payments necessary to buy not just goods but goodwill. That not a crime.” He hesitated, not entirely certain of the relevant bit of Commonwealth law. “Is it?”

“No, it's not.” His relief was palpable. “Anyway, I'm not interested in your company's political activities. That's your business.”

Now the senior appeared genuinely bewildered. “Then why I here? What you want from me?”

She extracted one piece of hard copy from the pile and pushed it toward him. He glanced down at it without making a move to pick it up, as if it were a lurking bai-mou just waiting to leap at his throat.

“On the dates specified, you made a number of sizable payments to a human named Sethwyn Case.”

One did not become the head of a successful company operated and owned by Sakuntala without possessing at least a degree of shrewdness. “I cannot verify that without first check with company fiduciary.”

“For now, take my word for it.”

Having yet to be openly accused of breaking a law, the Sakuntala entrepreneur was starting to feel a little better about things. “Is also not illegal?”

“No.” She stared hard at the senior. “All I want to know is, what were these payments made for? What services did the bioprospector Sethwyn Case render to the company Poutukaa to be worthy of all this credit? You didn't pay him in
mulat
.”

Geladu-tiv let his tongue and tail tip fall to the floor, a dual sign of abject submission. “You must believe me, Administrator Matthias, when I tell you that I not know.” Before she could object, he added helpfully, “If they are indeed accurately recorded and stated as you claim them to be, then all payments to which you refer would be ones made at behest of respected radical Hata-yuiqueru Aniolo-jat.”

Sitting back in her chair, she nodded slowly. To the senior's discernible relief, the hulking peaceforcer who had been standing immediately behind him stepped back and resumed his original position next to the doorway.

“What business does Poutukaa have with an extremist like Aniolo-jat?”

“Trade,” Geladu-tiv responded without hesitation. “Insurance.”

“Weapons?” she retorted.

The senior looked alarmed. “No, no! Poutukaa would never be involved in the traffic of such things!”

Matthias was relentless. “Yet you make payments on behalf of a Hata-yuiqueru like Aniolo-jat.”

“It is as I told you. Business is business. Among other things, heesa, credit buys goodwill.”

She grunted, folding her hands in front of her. “In my language we would call it protection money, but so be it. You have no idea why Aniolo-jat wanted you to transfer large sums to the human Case?”

“No, Administrator. If you want to know, I think you must have to ask the Hata-yuiqueru yourself. We did what we did because we felt it good business.” He swallowed. “Necessary business.”

“You did it because you felt you had no choice. Did Aniolo-jat or some of his minions threaten you or your company?” The senior did not reply. “No matter. That's between his people and yours. You can go.”

“Wistha?” Surprised by yet another unexpected turn in the interrogation, Geladu-tiv's ears flicked sharply in her direction.

“Heesa.” She waved a hand indifferently. “Yes, go on; go. You are free to leave.”

“I not—I am not under restraint?”

“You can stay if you want to,” she told him crisply.

He left in such a hurry that he forgot to tongue her good-bye. It was just as well. She was in no mood to deal with a wet Sakuntala tongue wrapping around her face.

“You two. You can go outside, but stay in the building. I may need you later.”

The two peaceforcers flashed simultaneous salutes. They had been sworn to secrecy concerning whatever took place in the administrator's office. Now they departed, themselves unsure of the significance of what they had just witnessed.

That was because they had been given access to only a few pieces of the puzzle, she knew. The only one who held them all was Lauren Matthias, chief administrator of the Commonwealth Authority on Fluva. And that was the trouble. She only had pieces. Enough to visualize a finished picture. Not enough to lay before a tribunal.

It would be nice to have a confession from the Hata-yuiqueru. One more bit of the puzzle. Bringing in Aniolo-jat, however, would not be quite as easy as sending peaceforcers to the head offices of the company Poutukaa. Like his fellow extremists, the Sakuntala war chief was hiding somewhere deep in the Viisiiviisii, directing the uprising. Utilizing the advanced technical resources at her command, she had no doubt she could locate him eventually. “Eventually,” however, was an imprecise length of time. She was far too angry to be patient.