Soulminder (19 page)

“Of course,” the other said, his eyes on the revived man, the anger of a moment earlier replaced by an almost grudging sense of wonder. “It never ceases to amaze me, Dr. Sommer. That a man could be brought back from the dead … ” He shook his head.

For a moment they watched in silence as the doctor completed the final check and one of the techs helped the patient off the transfer table. A little wobbly, but otherwise clearly recovered from his ordeal, he was helped into a wheelchair and guided toward the door.

And on his face, as he passed them, was an oddly absorbed expression. The expression, Sommer knew, of a man who had taken a look beyond earthly life. Who had waited, all alone, in the gray Soulminder tunnel.

Who had faced the Light.

“A miracle, indeed, General,” he said, a gentle shiver running up his back at the memory.

“Yes,” Everly put in. “Kind of puts national pride in perspective, wouldn’t you say?”

Diaz threw him a look that was almost a glare, but merely nodded. “Perhaps. If you’re ready, Dr. Sommer, I’ll escort you to the Core.”

And with that, the spell was broken, the miracle gone. Now, it was back to straight, hard-headed business again. Perhaps, Sommer thought, that was precisely what Everly had been going for. “Lead on, General,” he said.

From the very beginning Sands had decided that the secrets of the Soulminder equipment would remain solely with her, Sommer, and what would eventually become the corporation’s inner circle. The result was that the central chamber—the Core—of each Soulminder facility always reminded Sommer of a cross between Fort Knox and NORAD’s old Cheyenne Mountain fortress.

For Everly and him, of course, the entrance procedure was reasonably straightforward. Sommer had sent their official clearances via layer-encrypted satellite signal a week earlier, and the counter-checks had also already gone through. At that point all that remained was for the two of them to provide handprints, hold still long enough for the computer to run surface facial and bone structure comparisons with the clearance records, and submit to the standard multi-spectrum scan for concealed weapons, microphones, electronics, dangerous chemicals, and whatever else Everly’s security experts had set up the equipment to look for.

In nine years no one had yet managed to penetrate a Soulminder Core. Sands and Everly intended to keep it that way.

“Dr. Sommer, Mr. Everly,” a smiling young man greeted them as they came through the final screening and passed through the vault-like inner door. “Welcome to Soulminder Santiago. I’m Martin Van Proyen, in charge here. I don’t know whether you remember me, but I was one of the people you met with in London two years ago when the Italian government went through that corner-cutting fiasco.”

“Of course,” Sommer assured him, offering his hand. “You were assistant head of the Rome office, as I recall. Congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thank you, sir,” Van Proyen nodded as he shook hands with Sommer and then Everly. “Actually, I’m not sure I
have
been promoted—officially, I’m still listed as an assistant head, temporarily in charge here until someone a little more senior is found. But since that assignment was a year ago—and since they’re giving me full Station Chief pay and benefits—I think I can assume the promotion came through.”

Sommer made a face. “Probably can, yes. Sorry about that—what with all the countries clamoring for Soulminder facilities, the personnel office has been sort of buried lately. I’ll look into it when I get back.”

“I’d appreciate that, sir. Well—” Van Proyen waved around him. “This is it. What can I show you?”

Sommer looked around. The Core of each Soulminder office was always the same: a half dozen small offices and work areas surrounding the central section, where the computers and actual soul-trap equipment were kept. “I’d like to start with the financial records,” Sommer told him. “I’m particularly interested in how the costs per Mullner tracing and soul transfer compare to other Soulminder offices around the world.”

Van Proyen’s forehead furrowed. “We can take a look, but I’m pretty sure they’re comparable,” he said. “Our operational costs aren’t anything special, either high or low. The Chilean government’s certainly been paying the standard fees, and we’ve been forwarding them to Washington faithfully.”

“The money’s all been coming in,” Sommer assured him. “My interest is in how exactly the Chileans plan to put everyone in Santiago on Soulminder for the price they’re proposing.”

“Ah,” Van Proyen nodded. “That. You’ve got me, Dr. Sommer. All I can suggest is that they’re somehow cutting their own bureaucratic costs.”

“Or else they’re cutting quality,” Sommer countered grimly. “In which case, your records ought to show a pattern of incompetence or inexperience from the Chileans working out there in the Periphery.”

“I haven’t noticed anything obvious,” Van Proyen said. “But I’m hardly a walking statistician, either. Let’s go to my office and we can start digging. Oh, before I forget, there was a phone call for you earlier this morning. Archbishop Manzano asked if you might call him whenever you got the chance.”

Sommer stared at him. “The Archbishop called
me
?”

“And called here?” Everly murmured, his tone thoughtful. “Interesting.”

“What’s so interesting?” Van Proyen shrugged. “He probably wasn’t able to get in touch with you at the hotel.”

Sommer eyed Everly, an uncomfortable feeling beginning to gnaw at the pit of his stomach. “We haven’t been
that
hard to find,” he said slowly.

Everly nodded. “I agree. I’d guess he called here because our phone lines are more secure than the hotel’s would have been.”

The uncomfortable feeling grew stronger. “You know the Archbishop, Mr. Van Proyen?”

“Not personally. He’s something of a local hero among the people, though—he was a strong supporter of democracy before the Santos government was elected, and he doesn’t hesitate to speak out against governmental injustice and reform foot dragging.”

Sommer nodded. The Archbishop’s exploits as the people’s unofficial advocate had received a fair amount of international media coverage over the past year or two, but Sommer never quite trusted media darlings to live up to the hype surrounding them. Apparently, this one did. “Did he leave a number?”

“Yes, it’s on my notepad. This way.”

Van Proyen’s desk was as cluttered as Sommer’s own workspace, but like Sommer the younger man seemed to know exactly where everything was. He reached beneath a fat printout, pulled out a notepad, and handed Sommer the top sheet. “I think that’s his residence,” he added. “He said he’d be there all morning.”

Sommer nodded. Pulling the phone over, he punched up the number. One ring … two— “
Hola
,” a man’s voice answered.

“This is Dr. Adrian Sommer,” Sommer said, belatedly wondering if the Archbishop even spoke English. “I have a message to call Archbishop Manzano.”

“Ah—Dr. Sommer,” the other said, switching to thickly accented English. “I am Archbishop Manzano. Thank you very much for returning my call.”

“No problem, your Excellency,” Sommer said, trying to keep his voice casual through a dry mouth. On Van Proyen’s phone a red light had begun flashing, alerting him that the call was being monitored. Not all that surprising, really, if the Archbishop was as much a thorn in the government’s flesh as Van Proyen had indicated. “What can I do for you?”

There was just the briefest hesitation on the Archbishop’s part, and then, strangely, the wiretap indicator flickered once and then went out. “I mainly wanted to add my voice to those urging you to allow the expansion of our Soulminder facility,” the other continued. “I’m sure you realize that the greater part of the Soulminder is reserved for government officials and the upper and technical classes. Only if the program is expanded can the poorer of our people be so protected.”

Sommer frowned at the phone. “Ah … yes, your Excellency, I’m aware of that. It was my understanding, though, that a sizeable fraction of the Soulminder facilities already here were reserved for the poor.”

“That is true,” the other agreed. “But the fraction is not nearly sizeable enough.”

“I understand, sir,” Sommer said. There was something off-key here, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Perhaps we could meet later and discuss what’s being done for Santiago’s poor.”

“I would look forward to such a meeting,” the other said. “I’m sure your schedule is very heavy, but if you find a free hour please let me know.”

“I’ll do that, your Excellency,” Sommer assured him. “Thank you for your call. I hope we’ll be able to make connections while I’m here.”

“Good-bye, Dr. Sommer, and may God continue to bless your work.”

“Good-bye, sir.”

Sommer lowered the handset carefully back into its cradle. “Trouble?” Everly asked.

“I’m not sure,” Sommer told him.

“Let’s find out.” Pulling Van Proyen’s chair out from the desk, Everly sat down, keying a handful of commands into the computer. “Probably should start by getting both sides of the conversation.”

Sommer leaned over his shoulder as the screen filled with a transcript of the conversation. “It wasn’t anything he specifically said,” he told Everly. “More like the
way
he said what he did.”

“Uh-huh,” Everly grunted. “That and the fact that the tap on his line got lost?”

“Well, now that you mention it … ” Sommer paused as Everly keyed in some more commands, and to the right of the transcription a cryptic column of numbers and letters appeared. “What’s all that?” he asked.

“Tonal information,” Everly told him. “Plus … well, well, well. What a surprise.” He looked up at Sommer. “The wiretap light went out because the line got switched on us.”

Sommer exchanged glances with Van Proyen. “You mean the government cut us off?”

“That’s it,” Everly confirmed, tapping a spot on the screen. “Right here, just after you asked what he wanted. Shunted you to a prepared line where they had either a good mimic or an electronic parrot waiting. Let’s see if we can find out which.”

“How?”

“Voiceprint analysis—there’s a nice little package of programs around for that sort of thing,” Everly told him, fingers skating across the keyboard. “Standard issue at Soulminder offices—you’d be surprised at the stuff foreign governments and industrial spies try and pull on us. There we go … and the winner is electronic parrot. Damn good one, too. Let me get a deep-probe going on it, see if we can figure out whose design it is. Might tell us where they got it.”

Sommer chewed at his lip. “You think it’s worth trying to call the Archbishop back?”

Everly shook his head. “No. They were somehow caught flatfooted by his earlier call here, but they won’t miss again.”

Sommer looked past him to Van Proyen. “I suddenly don’t think,” he said quietly, “that we want to wait for Frank to finish here before we get started.”

“Agreed,” Van Proyen nodded, his expression tight as he started toward the door. “Come on, let’s go scare up another terminal.”

Sommer had expected the search to take perhaps half an hour. It took, in fact, nearly two hours.

And at the end they found nothing.

Van Proyen keyed to the last page of the analysis and leaned back in his chair. “It’s not here,” he announced unnecessarily, reaching back to massage his neck muscles. “Wherever it is the Chileans are saving money, it isn’t with basic Soulminder functions.”

Sommer glared at the display. “You absolutely sure we didn’t miss anything?”

Van Proyen shrugged. “We looked at the Mullner tracings, transfer operations, non-hospital paramedical work, baseline storage and power costs, and worker efficiency. That’s all there is.”

“It’s got to be in the way the government’s handling their end of things, then,” Sommer growled. “Paying drastically reduced salaries, maybe?”

“Could be,” Van Proyen said doubtfully. “But remember that that’s one of the things the Italians did when they were trying to cut costs—and in
that
case, there was a big jump in worker turnover and general inefficiency. There’s nothing like that here—average stay for the low-level workers was, what, fifteen months?”

“Something like that.”

“And even the physicians are staying an average of a year or so,” Van Proyen reminded him. “Physicians down here are notorious for jumping jobs if their pay doesn’t suit them.”

Sommer chewed at his lip. “Maybe the prestige of working for Soulminder makes up for starvation wages.”

Van Proyen raised his eyebrows politely. “Would it make it up for
you
?”

“I doubt it,” Sommer admitted, getting to his feet. “Well, whatever they’re doing, at least we know for sure now that the difference is coming out of their half of the pie. I suppose that qualifies as progress.”

“Probably.” Van Proyen got to his feet. “Your man Alverez probably has it all scoped out by now. Assuming, of course, it isn’t buried too deeply.”

Sommer grimaced. “That’s what bothers me. Why it should be buried at all.”

General Diaz had left, they found as they emerged from the Core, but he’d left his car and driver and a message to phone him whenever they were ready to continue their tour.

“Is there anything else to see?” Sommer asked Van Proyen.

“Not really,” the other said. “There’s some administrative stuff, mostly concerned with the Chilean staff and supplies and all, and I suppose if you really wanted to you could hang around and watch another transfer.” He stepped to the Core receptionist’s desk, tapped out a command on her computer. “There’s one going on now, and four more scheduled later today—accident victims, all of them, who’ve spent the last few weeks healing in the hospital.”

Their bodies technically dead, with only full life-support keeping the biological functions going. The whole concept still gave Sommer the shivers if he thought about it too hard. “No point to it,” he told Van Proyen. “We already know that the savings aren’t coming from the transfers. In fact, some of the things they’ve added to the standard procedure are actually boosting the cost.”

“Those silly glucose IVs,” Van Proyen snorted. “Well, the medical part is their business. I’ve known hospitals in the States that were always throwing glucose at their patients, too.” He spread his hands. “In that case, I guess the tour is over.”