«All around the central unit's case we then mounted sonic repulsors. Anyone approaching without due authorization would be overwhelmed by beams of sound waves that could knock down a bull. In a nutshell, they are devices that make such a noise that you have to leave immediately or you'll find yourself with permanent hearing damage. They don't allow you to stand there undisturbed and try to tamper with the equipment. That's why the whole story doesn't convince me.»
«It doesn't convince you, does it? Yeah yeah», Rea quipped. «Mr. Bruford, would you like to add something about these notorious repulsors? As far as you know, is it possible to hack them and make them seem to operate normally?»
«I should carry out a specific check, Colleague Officer. In any case, to answer your question, yes, it is possible. You need to be smart, though.»
«It's possible, indeed! And you're smart, Deveux, right?»
William sighed and kept his mouth shut.
«Oh, but please go on, we're sorry to interrupt!»
William cleared his throat again.
«We then replaced the storage media. The one at Minneman was strangely outdated, or at least compared to our standards. One would always expect a very high standard, but instead...»
«Yes, yes, but hold your comments, I told you.»
William filled his lungs with air.
«The next phase is that of data transfer from the old data media to the new ones. Of course we did our best to preserve the integrity of all information contained and to ensure that not even a single bit got lost.»
«We this, we that. When you say we, you mean you or other people?»
«None of the employees covers all the phases of the process, we always alternate. It's an extra precaution», William clarified.
Rea strangely agreed. He turned to Bruford, nodding.
«However, according to the documentation provided, Minneman claims that there are discrepancies between the contents of the archives before Leigh Madison Enterprise's employees got their hands on them, and what Minneman found later. I won't list them off here because I would be overwhelmed by boredom. We'll leave this task to Mr. Bruford, if he wants to. Well, then?»
«I can only say that everything was all right before leaving Minneman. I know for sure, because I checked.»
«That doesn't mean you're going to accuse anyone, other than your colleagues, right?»
Rea was waiting for him to step out of line, to get the chance to teach some of the discipline he was proud of.
«No... no.»
William's voice was trembling.
«That's pretty obvious. I therefore assume that those differences are due to mistakes. Is that what you meant?»
William swallowed.
«Maybe.»
«But... mistakes during the copy process... or later?»
William thought about it for a moment.
«I can't answer that question.»
«Or, more likely, you don't want to», Rea stated, pretending to regret. «Yet I'll give you that. A while ago, you claimed to be completely convinced there was no error and now you're open to the possibility. It's a great step forward, though you're probably not aware of it.»
Buchanan got up to get some drinks. Five glasses, how many militiamen there were. The defendants didn't drink. William watched them quench their thirst as if they were tasting a delicious beverage. He found it very childish. That bottled water reminded him that his throat was dry. He had to fight the urge to ask for a drink, as well as he had to restrain himself from scratching his forehead beaded with sweat. Even those could be interpreted as signs of weakness.
«Deveux, would you like to take a little break?»
«No thanks.»
«Oh, you're more than welcome! Whenever you want, just ask!»
He laughed out so loud that he nearly fell off his chair.
«So, I think we can go on. Do you have anything else to add? Our Mr. Bruford is all ears.»
William chose to set aside that little initial boldness. Their behavior was much too clear, yet he didn't want to give up. A long-lost memory came back to him. He was just eleven years old yet he wanted to grow up fast, to look life right in the face. After a quarrel with his father, because of a cigarette, he ran away from home. His father Dominic, helped by some neighbors, found him the evening of the day after on the west bank of the Kastar river, on the edge of town. He was just sitting on the ground, all huddled and cold. His dad, without showing anger or touching him, merely looked at him with sad and watery eyes. The sadness of a parent who feared he was not doing enough for a motherless child. Remembering that look, William thought he had never felt so bad in his life, so guilty. You can go on for hours, he thought while facing all that arrogance, but you will never make me feel worse than that. You can't do anything to me.
«Deveux? What else, then?»
«Well, then... an advanced biometric scanner was installed at the entrance to the central unit room. Not only does it detect weight and height but, from the analysis of body sweat, the panel is also capable of...»
«We do know what an ABS is, Deveux!», Patrick Rea interrupted him. «Isn't it true, Mr. Bruford?»
Bruford nodded right away.
«And we know it's not an unhackable security measure, am I right?»
«Indeed, Colleague Officer. With current technology it is possible to simulate vital parameters and human features. It costs a lot of credits, but it's feasible. Sweat, furthermore, can be replicated with...»
«Okay, okay», Rea cut it short. «It's not an impenetrable protection, that's all that matters!»
«No security measure is in itself perfect or sufficient. It takes a full set of security devices, both hardware and software, to provide adequate protection and minimize the risks», William replied.
«So you admit! Negligence and premeditation! You premeditated being negligent, this is the truth!»
William stuck his nails into the palm of his hands.
«I... didn't...» He couldn't add anything else. It was like imploding.
«Come on, Deveux! Calm down. This can all end right now, if you... just speak that word.»
«I don't... I don't want to. I told you before.»
Patrick Rea then seemed to adopt a paternalistic attitude.
«All right, all right! You got a point, let's go on! Anyway, I swear I'm ready to stop all this as soon as you want.»
William felt a sense of humiliation. He felt like he was trapped in a labyrinth and, no matter how hard he tried, he always got back to square one. That mean act had to end, he couldn't stand it anymore. But how? By doing what Rea expected, surrendering? Blaming himself for crimes he hadn't committed? He feared he could no longer control himself, he was already making a huge effort. What if he reacted badly? He would end up in the morgue for sure. And if he took the fall for someone else, on the other hand? He would make Scarlet Militia happy, as it was just interested in convicting someone, no matter who he or she was. And goodbye to that semblance of a future he still hoped for himself and not just for himself.
His shirt was now wet and his collar was getting tighter and more annoying. William noticed that Buchanan was beginning to show impatience, too. He had taken his eyes off his tablet and had put himself on standby, hoping his superior would not take it too long.
Rea was called by a colleague along with the two operatives at one point, so the break was taken either way. None of them was pleased about that, as everyone in that office wanted to be elsewhere. The other two militiamen in the room took the chance to turn on their communicators and engage in rather personal conversations, regardless of William's presence. He would like to do the same, but he thought it best not to provoke them. So he decided to get up just a moment to stretch, but he wished he'd never done it: Buchanan and Bruford looked at him both worried and surprised, and with little hand signals they urged him to sit down again. If the officer saw the defendant standing up and stretching... poor them!
When would Rea come back? And when wo
uld that torment end? Finally, a few minutes later he could hear his voice approaching. He was screaming I don't care and you take care of it. When he got back in, his face looked gloomy. Perhaps some other notorious criminal to be brought to justice, William speculated.
After messing around with some papers, Rea took up the loose threads with a more serious tone, setting aside that inappropriate sense of humor showed up until then.
«Let's finish this, Deveux, time is running out. Summarize what's worth knowing to help our investigation.»
«Yes. So, other things which deserve to be mentioned are the dynamic-response protection system, the periodic-check encryption, the...»
«Okay, okay, explain», Rea stopped him.
«So, in the first case it must be said that the system is capable of reacting to intrusions by counterattacking the remote systems from which the invasion started.»
«I think we're not interested in this at the moment», Patrick Rea said, meeting Bruford's knowing look.
«The periodic-check encryption allows to periodically encode and recheck the data to ensure their integrity and avoid the risk of tampering. The system keeps track of any unauthorized changes and reports them.»
«Mr. Bruford?»
Christopher Bruford took a few seconds before answering. His reply betrayed a hint of embarrassment.
«Colleague Officer... due to the amount of data, it's not possible to evaluate the quality and the efficiency of that protection system. In order to provide a reliable opinion, I should spend some time examining the encryption algorithm and extracting samples from Minneman Company archives, so that...»
«All right, all right, we'll talk about it later», Rea stated, really tired of technicalities. «What else?»
It was not clear to whom that invitation was addressed, whether to William Deveux or Christopher Bruford. Since he got back from that kind of break, Patrick Rea seemed to be distracted by something, with his mind somewhere else and more focused on the papers in front of him than on the interrogation.
«So, Deveux?»
«Well, there's not much else to add. The central unit has a double-card opening system, so it takes two to access its hardware. Lastly we installed secret volumetric sensors at the building's key spots, to monitor the premises outside office hours and identify any unauthorized subjects.»
Rea turned again to Bruford, saying nothing.
«The volumetric sensors can be remotely deactivated and, even if concealed, they emit signals that can be intercepted, revealing their location...», the computer specialist suggested.
William let it slide, having no more energy to argue, but the others also seemed worn out by that prolonged debate. The thing was taking way too long and dusk was approaching. William had half a mind that Militia interrogations were usually shorter, that he wasted a lot of their time. That was almost something to be proud of.
As far as possible, William tried to sit more comfortably in his chair and folded his hands in prayer, awaiting the events. He looked around, had not noticed at first how much noise the air conditioner was making. The decor was just shabby, old and low-cost. On the walls, there were pictures of Scarlet Militia officers passed away, with the list of their heroic feats. Meanwhile, the prolonged exposure to such bright artificial lights had caused William a slight but annoying sting in his eyes. He rubbed them and, in doing so, aroused the pack leader's interest.
«Deveux, are you sleepy?»
Rea slapped the table, awakening the audience from lethargy.
«Don't worry, I've got good news for you. We're done for now. We have not come to any formal indictment, after all, so it would be superfluous to go on indefinitely. We'll certainly meet again, though I couldn't tell you when.»
That time his voice did not betray emotions, it was neither sarcastic, nor threatening.
«Before you leave, you'll have to sign some papers, a mere formality. Just to attest that you were treated with due respect and that no harm was done to you», he concluded, with coldness and lack of empathy. A closing formula he had surely repeated over and over and now it didn't make any more difference to him. He got up, then, and left in a hurry. After a few moments the other militiamen followed him, but with less haste. Buchanan signaled to William Deveux to precede him. When he was behind him, he told him - in a tone of voice that was supposed to be forceful, but turned out to be quite embarrassed - that he would not have to leave town, except for a specific consent of Militia headquarters.
Once fulfilled the last obligations, and suffered yet another search before leaving the building, William finally abandoned that evil place. A hard rain had begun to come down and the sun had almost completely disappeared. He headed back home, not caring too much about the path, driven by instinct. Every now and then he deviated from the route his inner compass chose for him, as if moved by the invisible threads of an unlikely puppeteer. He looked straight ahead as if he was stunned, unable to think of anything, exhausted by hours of waiting, anxiety and a struggle against a tough and prejudiced opponent. The raindrops, meanwhile, were slipping more and more in his curly hair, streaming down his face. Indifferent to the mud that covered both sides of the street, he marched with heavy and painful steps, splashing water almost everywhere.
It was evening lights that catapulted William into real world. Their reflection on the damp floor dazzled him and enveloped him pleasantly, like a reassuring hug. He began to admire the neon lights, fascinated by that multitude of colors. One of them, in particular, got his attention: a flashing red light with the word “Shakers”, at the foot of which a homeless – all curled up and trying to hide from the rain - consumed what could hardly be called a meal. It was like a slap in the face, someone was trying to remind him that he was not the only unfortunate on planet Earth. William approached the homeless and gave him a prepaid card for small daily purchases. He always carried one just in case. The homeless hesitated before picking it up, looking at the generous donor from head to toe. The poor man was perhaps thinking about which of them actually needed it the most.
That meeting made William feel even more alone than he had already felt that long and troubled day. So, he sought shelter in his favorite mental refuge: Lucinda. She was out there somewhere in the world, but, above all, she was there in his thoughts, from which nothing and no one could ever take her away; the rest didn't matter.
He took a few more steps, then stopped and turned to the sky with his mouth wide open. He loosened the knot in his tie and undid the first buttons of his shirt, then closed his eyes and let the rain pound his face.
Chapter III
Lucinda had a problem. She had to decide whether to indulge in the arrogance and lust of Zakhar Sarkov, or preserve her own professional and moral integrity. She would lose or risk something either way. Sarkov was not an ordinary client, the one you can dump according to the circumstances, to ongoing commitments or, why not, to the desire for profit. The one to thank for his confidence and... next up, let's go! No, it wasn't like that. His reputation preceded him, he always got what he wanted. Accepting his proposal meant giving up everything Lucinda stood for, self-esteem, hard-earned sense of security in social relationships, the respect of her employees and working partners. Preventing him from indulging his whim - because that's what it was, just a whim – meant to go against a dangerous man. A man who wanted to exercise his presumptuous power, and probably force her to surrender to his lust. There could be serious consequences, far beyond any lost earnings. Time was running fast, she had already made a lot of excuses, but could not put it off forever. She had to answer Zakhar Sarkov.
Janine Meltzer had tried in vain to get her attention again and again, but Lucinda was still lost in her thoughts. Just the beep of an electronic message was able to bring her back to Earth. She turned her eyes to the computer and jumped up, barking.
«What? Jeff Cormann... again? Wasn't that story over?»
Going out of the room, she bumped into Janine who tried a new, timid attempt to take up
a little of her time.
«Lucy, I need you to sign some documents, then there's the new report... anyway, call me when you're ready.»
Lucinda passed her over and, without interrupting the gallop, raised her right hand to order her to wait. She rushed into Zephra Thomas's room, asking for clarifications.
«Cormann insists on refund», said the sender of that unpleasant message to justify it. «According to him, the contract was not completed.»
«Not completed, my ass! If the meeting he had planned has not taken place, it is not our business. Samira regularly showed up at the appointment. How much are we talking about?»
Lucinda didn't even wait for the answer and snatched the computer from Zephra's hands, starting to wiggle frantically her fingers on the keyboard to trace the amounts of the deal gone bad. Zephra blushed and fell silent.
«Seventy-nine hundred credits! This is crazy! We cannot grant him an annulment, not with that kind of money at stake.»
«This time his lawyer too, Austin & Austin, wrote us. They've just sent a letter of formal notice», added Janine Meltzer, who had meanwhile joined the discussion.
«I couldn't care less. We have a signed contract, we did things right.»
She paused and began to huff. She placed her right hand on her hip.
«However, we don't have all that money anymore, much of it has been spent.»
«Candice wanted to know how you wish to proceed. We have to defend ourselves, legally speaking. We can't just ignore it, at this point», Zephra Thomas asked.
«Hmm... start a video chat with Candice.»
Candice Moriansky's flowing blond hair showed up in all its glory.
«Candy, the Cormann's contract. Give me something to work with, please», Lucinda pleaded.
«Look, the request presented by his lawyer is appropriate. The Markovian Text of Commerce easily allows the termination of the contract, in cases like that. We may apply an exit charge, and in our case it is fifteen percent, but, if we don't find some loophole, we'll have to refund the difference. Among other things, Cormann has been very fair because he has paid the full amount in advance», Candice emphasized, disappointing Lucinda who hoped for more aggressiveness by their legal representative.
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