“I’m convinced it’s in the Regulus system. That would provide easy access to Augusta, which is where the construction systems must have come from. Everyone automatically assumes that CST and Augusta belongs solely to the Sheldon Dynasty; they forget that Isaacs was a cofounder, he has an equal share.”
“I suppose so. But I doubt we can afford to hire a spaceship. I don’t have that kind of money.”
“The Michelangelo show would pay. Once we reach the habitat, we can gain access to Isaac’s wormhole. We can take Morton and the motile off Elan.”
Which is what this is really all about, Mellanie knew. Ever since Dudley had heard about the strange alien motile he had been consumed with meeting it. She was thankful he despised the navy and completely distrusted Admiral Kime, otherwise he would have gone straight to them asking for the motile to be recovered. “It would have to be a really good proposal for them to come up with that kind of money,” she said. “You’d have to be very sure of the spaceship performance.”
“I am. We can do it.” Dudley stroked his ear. “A few more upgrades like this, some memory skill implants, and I’ll be able to pilot us myself.”
“All right. If you collect some figures, very detailed figures, Dudley, I’ll think about it.”
“Yes!” He punched one hand into the palm of the other, smiling broadly.
“I’ll get onto it right away.”
Mellanie slipped the T-shirt dress straps off her shoulders, and let the garment slide down onto the ancient floorboards. “I didn’t know Ozzie owned half of CST.”
“Oh, yes.” Dudley was staring at her as if he’d never seen her body before.
“They started the company together. Sheldon was always the director, the commercial half of the partnership. So he’s the one the public and the media always see making statements. It’s an association thing.”
“Interesting.” She unhooked her bra.
It was the signal for Dudley to struggle out of his own shirt, desperately trying to get it off over his head and getting badly tangled up in the hurry.
“You know, he hasn’t been seen for years.”
“Who? Ozzie?”
“Yes. I found that out when I was researching this. Not that it’s unusual—he’s always traveling through the Commonwealth. They say he’s visited every planet, and had a child on each of them.”
Mellanie stepped out of her panties and walked through into the bathroom. She turned the shower on, grateful the water was mildly warm. “If he’s so important, it’s strange he hasn’t said anything about the Primes. You know, there was a lot of pressure on the Baron show not to mention the asteroid habitat. I wonder what’s happened to him.”
“That’s Ozzie for you: one crazy dude.” Dudley was trying to get his pants off; he had to grip the door frame to stop falling over. “I’d like to be like him.”
“If he’s as rebellious as everyone says, he might let us use his wormhole anyway.”
“We’d have to find him first.”
“I’ll ask around the office. Somebody there might know where he is.”
Dudley finally got his pants off, and made for the shower.
“Wait there,” Mellanie said sharply. He came to a halt in the middle of the small bathroom.
She started to rub the thick soapy gel onto her body. “Watch me first. I’ll tell you when you can join me.”
Dudley sucked on his lower lip and whimpered.
Nigel followed his three bodyguards out of the wormhole gateway. It was daylight in Ozzie’s gigantic, hollowed-out asteroid, the balmy air carrying the sweet scent of flower blossom. A wide white canvas awning arched above the gateway, allowing visitors to acclimatize to the bizarre curving landscape as they moved out from under it. As he walked forward, more of the cylindrical cavern was revealed, two green wings sweeping up on either side, becoming steeper and steeper until they began to arch overhead. Sizzling white light shone out of the axis gantry, its glare obscuring the ground directly above him. Tall, impressively craggy mountains jutted out from the curving landscape at all angles around him, disorienting in their fantastical perspective. The sight coupled with the rotational gravity field produced a momentary sensation of motion sickness that made his legs weaken. One of the bodyguards actually stumbled, falling to his knees. His colleagues hauled him up, trying not to snigger.
“This way,” Nigel said, and headed down the gravel path that led away from the cliff where the gateway was embedded. Birds were singing not far away.
The interior was almost as he remembered. It was the trees that had changed; they were all mature now, adding to the elegance of the panorama. He didn’t like to think how many decades it would take to produce such a gap between his last recollection and today; judging by the height and density of the forests it could easily be a century.
Several gardenbots were busy on the grass, tending the rhododendron bushes and little spinnies of silver birch. There was no sign that several thousand people had poured through here like a runaway tide: no garbage, no trampled plants.
At the end of the path, the small bungalow was just as he remembered it. A single deck chair was sitting in the garden underneath a broad copper beech tree, waiting for its owner to return.
Daniel Alster’s call icon popped into Nigel’s virtual vision. He sighed, and opened a connection.
“Sorry, sir,” Daniel said. “There’s a development I thought you should know about.”
“Go ahead,” he said, knowing it would be important. He trusted Daniel to filter most of the output from the Dynasty’s political office.
“The Halgarths have just gone nuclear against the Burnellis in committee.”
“Hmm, which committee?”
“Security Oversight.”
“Really?” As always, Daniel had been right. The Security Oversight Committee was normally immune to the usual political maneuvering and squabbling between Senate factions; and at this time it should have been completely sacrosanct. For any kind of spat to have spilled over into its sessions was serious indeed. “What happened?”
“Valetta Halgarth tried to bump Paula Myo out of Senate Security this morning.”
Nigel was suddenly very interested. The Dynasty had been indebted to the Investigator on more than one occasion; after one case he’d even thanked her personally. Not that she pursued anyone for political reasons. He’d almost intervened himself when the political office told him Rafael Columbia had engineered her removal from navy intelligence; then Gore had stepped in, and there’d been no need. “What’s she done to annoy the Halgarths now?”
“We’re not quite sure, it’s probably ongoing. The Burnellis are worried about the Halgarths increasing their power base within the navy hierarchy.”
“They’re not alone. Go on.”
“The reason Valetta gave was Myo interfering in navy intelligence operations. Apparently Myo made an official request to her old Paris office to put Alessandra Baron under observation.”
“What does Myo think Baron has done?”
“We don’t know.”
“It’s probably not relevant to the Halgarths; as you say, this is a direct power struggle. I’ll talk to Jessica. I think we need to start keeping a closer eye on the Halgarths and their plans for the navy.”
“Yes, sir.”
The call ended, and Nigel came to a halt, considering what he’d just been told. The bodyguards waited respectfully. If there was one thing he knew about Paula Myo it was her honesty; she wouldn’t put Baron under observation on purely political grounds no matter how hard the Burnellis insisted. Then there was Thompson’s shocking murder, which remained completely unsolved. The assassin’s reappearance at LA Galactic was also something that hadn’t been satisfactorily explained. Something was going on at a level that affected the Dynasties and Grand Families, and to his considerable annoyance, he didn’t know what. That was almost unheard of. His virtual hand reached out and touched Nelson’s icon. “Got an information collection job for you,” he
told the Dynasty security chief.
Nigel knew the bungalow was deserted before he stepped through the open archway that was its entrance. There was something about an unoccupied home that spoke directly to the human subconscious. Nonetheless, he called out: “Ozzie, you about, dude?” as he wandered through into the lounge.
After an extensive investigation to locate Ozzie, Nelson had drawn a complete blank. Nigel had been girding himself for the news that Ozzie had set up home on one of the Lost23 worlds. But no, the last trace Nelson’s department could find was a ticket to Silvergalde. A team of Dynasty security agents had descended on Lyddington to find out what they could. The town was in chaos from the number of refugees flooding to Silvergalde in the belief that the Silfen would defend their world from the Primes. And there were no electronic records to review. That left money and alcohol to liberate tongues and unreliable memories. Ozzie had been in town; a stable owner claimed to have sold him a horse and a lontras. He hadn’t stayed long. A tavern landlord said he’d set out to walk the Silfen’s deep paths in the woods. No one in Lyddington had seen him come back.
As Ozzie legends went it was credible, suitably mythic and epic. Nigel wasn’t so certain. Ozzie had feigned disinterest in the Dyson Alpha barrier, but that was the usual Ozzie bullshit. Nigel had checked: it was the only time Ozzie had ever turned up at an ExoProtectorate Council meeting. His friend was interested, all right; enigmatic alien Big Dumb Objects were the kind of thing Ozzie loved. For him to then vanish off into a forest full of elves was difficult to understand.
Nigel’s inserts sensed several arrays activating in the lounge. A holographic portal projected a life-size image of Ozzie right in front of him, dressed in a shabby yellow T-shirt and creased shorts; from his bleary eyes it looked like he’d just woken up with a hangover. “Hi, Nige,” it said. “Sorry you’re here. I guess I must have been gone awhile and you’ve started worrying. Well, this is a recording I made to reassure you I’m okay. I love the idea you’re gonna build a starship, man, that’s gonna be so coolio. Hey, I bet you wind up going on the voyage in the end, you’ll find some excuse.”
“Wrong,” Nigel whispered at the image of his friend.
“I’ve gone the other way to find out what’s there. You know me, huh. The whole Dyson sphere thing is really weird, you know? And the Silfen have got to know something about it. I never did fall for all that mystic guru shit. They’re smart and they’ve been around a long time. So I’m doing a bit of exploring myself. I’m gonna track down those paths of theirs, and find out what’s at the center of their forests. I’m betting it’s something like our own slippy tricky little SI. Hopefully it’ll have some answers for me. So don’t go worrying about me, and I’ll see you when I get back. Double sorry if you needed me to solve a biggo problem, just like the old days. You stay chill, now.”
The image switched off.
“Oh, shit, Ozzie,” Nigel said in a pained voice. “You dickhead.”
Paula took a brief look around the large opulent office; as far as she could see, nothing had changed. Every piece of big gold-brown furniture was where she remembered. Even the aides were the same. Which made it all the stranger that it was Justine sitting behind the big desk, framed by a window looking out over Washington’s skyline.
“Thanks for finding the time to see me,” Paula said as the Senator rose to greet her. There was something in Justine’s movements that made Paula study her a little longer than was strictly polite.
“No problem. I bet you got a few stares on your way up.”
“A few,” Paula admitted.
They sat on one of the big leather couches. An aide had already set out a silver coffee service for them. Justine poured a cup of nonmodified Jamaican gold for Paula. Her own drink was water.
“Your father has uncovered a huge amount of financial irregularities in Bromley, Waterford, and Granku’s accounts. The company seems to be a distribution point for a number of individuals and organizations which have no verifiable existence. A lot of money comes in through various unlisted client accounts, and promptly vanishes. There also seems to be an equal amount of illegitimate activity at Denman Manhattan who run the accounts for Bromley, Waterford, and Granku.”
“Excellent. This sort of thing is easy for Gore, he was doing it before I was born, for God’s sake. So what’s your next move?”
“Our preliminary analysis is that Bromley, Waterford, and Granku was acting as a financial distribution center for the Starflyer agent network. They know it’s been compromised, of course. that’s why Seaton, Daltra, and Pomanskie have all vanished. The network funding will have been switched to another distribution center. However, Gore is going to inform the Financial Regulation Directorate; apparently he has a lot of contacts there. The Directorate will subject both Bromley, Waterford, and Granku, and the Denman Manhattan bank, to a forensic accounting evaluation. It’ll be considerably more thorough than anything Senate Security can run. There’s a chance that they might identify both the source of all this dark money, and some of the illusive individuals it was channeled to. It will be difficult; whoever set this up knew what they were doing, and of course onetime accounts remain the bane of law enforcement.”
“I’m sure Bromley, Waterford, and Granku has been shut down, but I know the FRD—they’ll take months if not years to complete their investigation.”
“I am of the same opinion,” Paula said. “But that aspect of the investigation may well soon be irrelevant, which is why I’m here in person.”
“You don’t trust encrypted calls?”
“I was on the East Coast anyway to see your father, and this is extremely important. Wilson Kime has been in touch with me. He’s asked me to visit the High Angel to review some information. His message was very short, but it seems as though he’s uncovered some kind of abnormality which occurred during the Second Chance mission.”
“I’ll be damned, that’s a surprise,” Justine muttered.
“Exactly. Convincing Wilson Kime that something is wrong could well be a turning point for us. In which case we’d need to know how strong our political support is. Are you making any progress?”
“Better than I’d expected. I can certainly defeat the vote against you in committee whenever Valetta Halgarth gets it onto the agenda again. But a full Senate vote is another matter. If we’re to launch an official investigation into the Starflyer, I’ve got to have rock-solid proof not just that it exists, but that it is manipulating human politicians exactly as the Guardians claim. And we both know my fellow senators won’t take kindly to that allegation, especially the Halgarths.”
“What about the Sheldons?”
“I haven’t determined their intent yet. I’m sorry.”
“I’d like to suggest a strategy,” Paula said warily. The idea was one that she and Gore had discussed at their meeting. It wasn’t quite the kind of tactic she approved of, maneuvering someone into a precarious position. Especially given what she suspected about the Senator’s current physical situation. But these were unusual times, Paula reflected, and there was no illegality on their part, which was the one line she would never cross—not even to challenge the Starflyer. Though it is a very blurred line these days. “According to the Guardians, the Starflyer will return to Far Away when the Commonwealth has been destroyed.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“It’s been mentioned in several of their shotguns. I have studied their content intensively over the decades; Johansson seems quite convinced by this. In fact, I suspect that has a lot to do with the unusual equipment they have been trying to smuggle to Far Away recently.”
“All right, so it wants to go back to Far Away; how does that help us?”
“That whole elaborate double wormhole connection to Far Away is massively subsidized by the Commonwealth. You should suggest withdrawing the funding, effectively shutting down the wormholes, and preventing the Starflyer from returning.”
“Ouch.” Justine smiled roguishly into her glass.
“That’s going to annoy people.”
“It is intended to, especially the Halgarths and the Sheldons. Their reaction would be informative. It would certainly expose their political allies to us.”
“I could possibly include it as a rider on the navy finance bill that’s coming up next week. It’s justifiable as it would divert money from Far Away to the navy. Let me talk to Crispin. He always has been against subsidizing Far Away.”
“Thank you. I should add there might be some considerable risk in it for yourself personally. Your brother Thompson was killed because he interfered with the transport arrangements to Far Away. You might want to consider asking Senator Goldreich to propose the rider for you, given your … condition.” She couldn’t help the light flush rising on her cheeks, though she held Justine’s stare levelly.
“What condition is that?”
“I believe you’re pregnant, Senator. There are certain signs in evidence. And you did tell me you were going to give Kazimir the one gift still within your ability to grant. I suppose that was the real reason the body was taken to your family clinic in New York.”
Justine looked down. “Yes. You’re right on all counts. If you could keep that to yourself, please.”
“Of course, Senator. But the risk—you would effectively be bait.”
“I assume you and my father had taken that into account.”
“Your personal security would be upgraded and in place before the Far Away proposal is made. Senate Security has several operatives wetwired at a level capable of dealing with the Starflyer assassin.”
“Walk in the park, then.”
“Hardly.”
“I’ll schedule an appointment with Crispin. You can start upgrading my security.”
“Thank you, Senator.”
Justine sat on the couch for a long while after the Investigator had left. The prospect that Kime could come around to accepting the Starflyer was a phenomenal breakthrough. The more she considered the implications, the more worried she became. At the moment she was completely alone in the Senate in her belief, which made her extremely vulnerable. By introducing the prospect that the Starflyer was real she would expose herself to political destruction by the Halgarths, possibly in conjunction with the Sheldons. They really did need undeniable proof before going public.
The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle Page 158