Regenesis (64 page)

“Code 291-1, section two: Involvement of azi in the commission of a crime…”

It went on for a list of twenty-one items.

It made Rafael’s note compulsory reading:
“To: Sera Ariane Emory, Director, Alpha Wing

“From: Rafael BR-283, Commanding Officer, Alpha Wing Security

“Officers Mark BM and Gerry BG accompanied Justin Warrick to Abrizio’s Bar and Grill in the Education Wing where, pursuant to the orders of Justin Warrick, they disengaged but observed. Justin Warrick engaged Jordan Warrick in private conversation at another table. Jordan Warrick left the bar and was placed under arrest outside by officers BY-210 and BO-8 of Reseune Security. Justin Warrick objected. Reseune Security threatened him with a stunner, while applying restraint to Jordan Warrick. Alpha Wing officer Mark BM then drew a lethal and instructed Reseune Security to stand down…”

Oh, even better. She skipped to Justin’s message.

“Ari, forgive me. I lost my head. It wasn’t Jordan’s fault…”

It went on to say,
“On my own discretion, I told Jordan the nature of the upriver construction and the incident there. His reaction was sympathetic, and despite the public locale, the ambient noise was as good as a silencer, so I am relatively confident no one overheard. Conversation kept to a quiet level until Jordan left the bar with Paul, whereupon they were arrested by ReseuneSec personnel outside the bar. Grant and I followed, an argument ensued, and Mark and Gerry intervened to abort the arrest of all of us. I think Mark and Gerry will report more details.

“You know that I put Jordan into our old apartment. I apologize. If you want to talk about this incident I’m available at any hour. I very much regret the inconvenience.”

There was even one from Jordan Warrick:
“I don’t know if this will get to you, but it’s a nice place. Thanks for the tray.”

She wrote back. To Yanni:
“Sorry about that. There was a communications problem. I’ll communicate with Hicks and straighten it out. Keep me current with what you find out on the other matter. If you need me, call.”

To Adam Hicks:
“We had a problem tonight. Jordan Warrick should be subject to observation, not arrest during general curfew, unless, as per any other CIT, he violates the law. Justin Warrick is not to receive any reprimand for his actions of last night. All charges are to be dropped. Jordan Warrick is now resident in Wing One and has received rights of access there.”

To Rafael:
“Your personnel acted as they ought. Please stress that they should contact ReseuneSec Command offices and cite my authority to defuse any further such situations, so long as Alpha Wing personnel are safe, and that should remain the priority. Under no circumstances is any Alpha Wing resident to be arrested on any charge without clearance from me.”

To Justin:
“I knew it was going to be interesting when you left the party. I’m glad you’re all right and it’s all right what you did. That information is due for release soon anyway, before the news obsesses about it. Jordan is safer where you put him, and I don’t think I could have persuaded him to go there. Congratulations on that part; Please write Hicks and Yanni a meaningful apology and say you were following my orders.”

And, not least to Jordan, who’d actually initiated an exchange with her:
“You and Paul are welcome. You can contact the Office of Domestic Services, Alpha Wing—the minder will have the number; and, arrange a pair of betas, set of your choosing, to serve as domestic staff if you like. Justin and Grant never opted to have anyone live in: that was their choice, but they relied somewhat on my staff. Now that I’m removed from that area, you probably will find it easier to have someone to take care of the day-to-day operations. It is, however, entirely your choice. I hope you like, the place.”

Last was a mundane detail, an order to the ODS to allow exactly that, to send the bill to her office, and to allow Jordan Warrick, whose request would otherwise ring bells all the way to Yanni’s office, to come and go on his own.

She leaned back, then, still in her evening finery, and got up, called Joyesse to get her out of the blouse and hang things in the ‘fresher. She slipped on a gown and told Joyesse, “Call Florian.”

For some nights there was no other solution.

She lay there abed, waiting, hands behind her head and thinking, with some amusement, that she’d probably issued the order for Jordan’s free pass only marginally ahead of Jordan’s first provocation of security in that wing.

And thinking, with much less humor, that the world was a little darker tonight, now that somebody had decided to bomb a tower on something
she
was building. It hadn’t hurt anybody. But it had done financial damage. It was Reseune property. More, it was her project.

Maybe whoever had done it had known it was a special night for her. Was that too paranoid to imagine?

First the two nanistics Specials, mightily inconveniencing Yanni’s plans; and now this, a setback in hers…

The Paxers usually expressed themselves harmlessly in graffiti, or, not harmlessly, in subway incidents in Novgorod. They didn’t challenge Reseune directly.

Maybe that had just changed.

It might actually be an improvement. If they got out in the open, where security could lay hands on them…

Florian showed up in the doorway.

“I’m not at all in a bad mood,” she said. “I’m actually fairly cheerful, all things considered. You don’t mind my calling you, do you?”

“Not at all,” he said. Which he always said, but he always seemed to mean it. And he was just what she needed at the moment: a major distraction.

J
ULY
17, 2424
0827
H

Twenty-two weeks, and Giraud was growing a pancreas—not so dramatic as a heart, or lungs, but it meant he would be ever after able to digest food, to produce insulin and deal with sugars, and proteins…and thereby regulate his body chemistry. Not as dramatic as a heart, not as romantic, but just as life-essential, and very, very important to a man who’d value good health and enjoy his table as much as Giraud would.

He had gotten a bit fuzzy, meanwhile: body hair had started. His skin was too big for him: he was wrinkled as dried fruit, but he actually had gotten lips, and had tooth buds—they’d be squarish teeth when they finally came in, the two center ones a bit prominent—but those wouldn’t be needed for months and months yet. The bones were still growing, and teeth now got their share of calcium and other nutrients.

He and his companions were getting much more complex.

J
ULY
18, 2424
1829
H

Disappointing, the lack of progress on the Patil case and the Thieu business. Ari had a small soiree for at least some of the youngers—Yanni and Justin were at dinner elsewhere, Sam had gone off to Strassenberg: she’d urged him to be very, very careful, and she’d diverted two of her own security to go up there with him and make sure neither Sam nor Pavel did anything rash. Maria had stayed here—barracks living was no place for Maria, Sam said, and she’d take care of the place.

But Maria would have been lost in a council of war, so she didn’t get the dinner invitation tonight. Sam would have come, however, and they missed him.

Tommy and Mischa and Mika came. Yvgenia Wojkowski, who had lost no time dumping the boyfriend who had jeopardized her chance to stay with the group…she was there. Will Morley arrived, and of course Amy and Maddy. They had a simple supper and drinks after, and they sat under the fish wall, which cast a rippling light on everything, and tried to absorb the complex detail Catlin and Florian told them in the general what’s-going-on briefing.

Namely: Rafael’s lot had turned up a list of twenty contacts Patil had had with shady connections; nobody yet knew anything but rumor on Anton Clavery—but ReseuneSec was still digging—and the Thieu autopsy was still doubtful as to murder, but on circumstantial grounds the death was just too connected to the Patil murder to be anything but.

“Meaning they’re good,” Catlin concluded regarding the perpetrators, “and that means they’re not amateurs.”

“Or it means they meant to kill Thieu the hard way,” Florian said, “and ended up just stressing him to death. But there are no marks, no bruises, except the livor mortis that happens when a body—”

“Ugh,” Maddy said, and waved the information away. “We don’t need that much detail.”

“Blown out a window is nicer?” Mischa said. “Twelve stories down to a cooling tower?”

“Nasty,” Tommy said. “So we know they weren’t squeamish.”

“That’s not highly helpful,” Amy said. “As if you’re going to commit a murder and squeamishness matters?”

“It does probably add into the ‘not amateur’ theory,” Florian said.

“Getting into Planys also does that,” Amy said.

“And the tower at Strassenberg.” Will said. “Which is organization.”

“Considerable logistics,” Florian said. “ReseuneSec lab’s traced the explosives to a mining company at Svetlansk. That’s no surprise. The mode of delivery is uncertain. No boats are reported missing from Svetlansk, none scheduled to be in the vicinity on that day.”

“But the explosives might have been planted earlier,” Catlin said, “and detonated by timer or remote. Proximity-detonation would have been possible, but it’s not really logical to do it that way, and it doesn’t seem they did.”

The site was an inconvenient remove and an inconvenient height above the Strassenberg complex.

“One other thing of note,” Catlin said. “We also
did
have a boat out and in motion at that time. It came from Moreyville, visited Svetlansk, and came back.”

“Long trip,” ‘Stasi said.

“Especially long if they came from Moreyville, past Strassenberg—” Ari said.

“Upcurrent,” Yvgenia supplied.

“And,” Ari said, “didn’t refuel at Reseune docks.”

That got attention from the rest. “Big gas tank,” Mika said. “Did somebody do that?”

“Yes,” Florian said. “ReseuneSec is wondering about fuel drops along the way. The boat was in fact on its way back from Svetlansk when the tower blew. Rafael is trying to check currents and times. Downriver’s naturally faster. The time could work. It’s a large boat, a rental, which makes it more suspicious. It’s easy to piggyback in more fuel tanks without altering the boat.”

“So they didn’t want to refuel at Reseune so we wouldn’t have records?” Maddy said.

“Something like,” Ari said. “That’s the lead we’re following, at least, the best we’ve got.”

“A link, who knows?—from Novgorod to Morleyville, past us, to Svetlansk, for people wanting to blow up the tower,” Tommy said. “At least they didn’t get help here at Reseune.”

“Who was aboard?” Mischa asked. “Can we tell?”

“The rental was made by one Sera Penny Esker.”

“Never heard that name on any list.” Amy said.

“None of us have.” Ari said. “It searches to an Esker line resident in Novgorod, some employed by Novgorod Transport, Penny Esker being currently employed by the public library, data archive department.”

“Where Patil used to lecture.”

“Former student?” Tommy asked.

“Way out of her field. No University connections, not on any of the watch-it lists, but they wouldn’t use somebody who flashed red lights. Penny Esker seems to be a nobody, so far as criminal records, which is the sort, if you were up to no good, that you’d prefer to use, especially to rent boats. Florian says, and I agree, she wouldn’t have been on the boat.”

“Why did they do it at all, though?” Amy asked. “Blow up a tower? Paxer nonsense?”

“Maybe,” Ari said. “Maybe something about the site leaked—but that sort of incident doesn’t do the Paxers any good. They’d want some sort of media coup, blowing up something of mine, coupled with revealing I’m some sort of junior megalomaniac out founding towns at random, building secret laboratories and siphoning money out of Reseune to do it. They want publicity. They want public dislike of me, in particular. What the bombers actually got out of this business was my attention, and a slowdown of about two weeks in the Strassenberg build.”

“It could scare people, though,” Tommy said. “It could scare Fitz Fitzpatrick. It could be aimed at him and his company.”

The man in charge of the construction company, the man Sam was up there working for. She nodded, not liking that version of it, but it was indeed possible.

“Did we do anybody out of a contract they wanted?” Amy asked. “Fourstar was closest bidder besides Fitzpatrick.”

“Worth checking,” Catlin said, “since Fourstar is working next door to us in Wing One. They’ve already passed a security check, but a second one wouldn’t hurt.”

“Investigate Svetlansk Mining and the rest of the Svetlansk operations that handle explosives,” Ari said. “How many companies are working up there?”

“Four,” Catlin said.

“Probably we won’t find anything blinking on and off with colored lights,” Ari said. “But if we continue asking questions, individual by individual, something may turn up.”

“Have we got any investigative people up on scene?” Mischa asked. “I know Sam is, but—”

“That’s the other thing,” Amy said. “Sam is up there and he’s at risk if this gets more serious than it is.”

“ReseuneSec’s going to be investigating,” Ari said, “already is, but that all lands on Hicks’s desk, and it’s clumsy, and it’s slow, and it’s damned useless if we need three layers of authorizations to stop a boat on the river. We do have Sam’s bodyguard. This is what doesn’t get out. He’s got non-uniformed security with him. The two I sent with him aren’t trained as engineers. They’re taking tape on construction, but that’s not what they really do. So, yes, we do have our own investigation onsite. The problem is—they aren’t to leave Sam to go chase anything; and I don’t want Sam anywhere near a problem.”

“I’m glad they’re with him, though,” Maddy said.