“And you think there’s more,” DeRicci said. “What else could they do to the Moon?”
“I don’t think this about the Moon,” he said. “This is about the Alliance.”
“You think or Deshin thinks?” she asked.
“We both think. But I want to hedge my bets. Just in case I’m wrong, just in case we’re wrong. If we are, then we should be able to find another group of clones on the Moon, waiting to release some other kind of attack.”
DeRicci closed her eyes. She seemed to gather herself. Then she opened her eyes slowly. “You’re assuming that they’re here now. The Frémont clones weren’t. You theorize that the Peyti clones would have been off-Moon if the plan went differently. What makes you think the other clones are here now?”
“Just making certain,” Flint said. “If Deshin and I are wrong, then you might find another cluster of clones, based on some mass murderer, here on the Moon.”
“And if you’re right, we won’t find anything?” DeRicci asked.
“If we’re right, there might be more clones,” Flint said. “But they wouldn’t be on the Moon. They’d be scattered throughout the Earth Alliance.”
DeRicci frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not illegal. I’m sure there are all kinds of duplicates of various individuals all over the Alliance.”
“I know,” Flint said. “The problem gets a lot bigger then. We have to track it through money and DNA and the brokers. But check for me first, all right, Noelle? Search for clones here on the Moon, in unlikely positions, maybe in unlikely species like the Peyti.”
DeRicci tapped her lips again. “I’m not sure that’s legal, Miles. What we did the day of the Peyti Crisis had exigent circumstances. No one is going to challenge our actions that day. But to do it now, when we don’t have any real evidence—”
“What does it matter, Noelle?” Flint asked. “Who will know? And if we’re wrong, no one will ever know.”
“If you’re right, what do we do?” DeRicci asked. “Round them up because they might commit a crime?”
He had thought this through. He hated what he was going to say next. He was so glad Talia wasn’t here.
“If they’re clones, Noelle, they’re property. We can confiscate property that came to the Moon illegally.” He spoke very quietly, as if his daughter could hear him through the door. “If they don’t identify themselves as clones, then they’re breaking a dozen Earth Alliance laws.”
“Legally, you’re right,” DeRicci said, “but I believe that clones are as sentient as anyone else. They’re just born differently—”
He wanted to hug her for that; she, like everyone else, had no idea that Talia was a clone.
“—and so, we’d be starting a terrible precedent,” DeRicci said. “And what if we’re wrong? What if they’re harmless? Doing some job they’re particularly suited for?”
He shook his head. “I don’t like this any more than you do, Noelle. But think of it this way. If some foreign government sent spies into the Alliance, and those spies could be identified with a single search, wouldn’t you do it?”
“We don’t know this is a foreign government,” DeRicci said.
“We don’t know that it isn’t,” Flint said.
She stared at him for a moment. Then she sighed heavily.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to search,” she said.
THIRTY
JUST AS NYQUIST was about to leave that strange room attached to Gumiela’s office suite, one of her assistants opened the door from the outside. Gumiela leveled a glance on the assistant that even made Nyquist cringe.
The assistant, to his credit, didn’t blink an eye.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said to Gumiela. “I have a lawyer here who won’t go away until he sees you. He nearly shoved in on his—”
Then the door opened wider, and a gaunt man wearing a shiny blue suit pushed his way into the room. A waft of spicy cologne followed him, overpowering Nyquist with the scent of cedar mixed with oranges.
Nyquist resisted the urge to put a hand over his nose. He wasn’t wearing anything that would allow him to create his own environment, and for the first time in months, he regretted that.
He would go out the other door. “If you’ll excuse me, Chief.”
She held up a hand, indicating that she wasn’t done with him. He held back a sneeze.
“You can see me in my office,” she said to the lawyer. His dark hair was slicked back, revealing eyes with pupils that were just a little too large. Either he was nervous, or he had taken a clearer in the past few hours—or both.
Nyquist didn’t smell any alcohol, though, although with cologne this strong, it would have been hard to smell anything else.
“No, sir, I can’t,” the lawyer said. “Time is of the essence here. I already spoke to your bosses upstairs, but I’m going to talk with you as well, since you’re the one handling interrogations of the Peyti.”
Nyquist had his hand on the doorknob, but he froze. He actually wanted to hear this.
“I’m sure my superiors will contact me,” Gumiela said in a tone so frosty that Nyquist was astonished the man hadn’t turned into a block of ice.
The lawyer didn’t even seem to notice. “And if they don’t, then my client will suffer. So I’m covering all angles.”
Gumiela sighed noticeably.
“Fine,” she said. “If time is of the essence, then speak quickly.”
He bowed slightly, which Nyquist found just a little odd. But then so was the suit, with its long waistcoat and old-fashioned cut, and that overpowering cologne.
“My name is Torkild Zhu,” the man said. “I am here, representing all of the clones of Uzvekmt. I have more than two dozen injunctions, which are active immediately.”
Nyquist couldn’t help himself; he snorted.
“All of the clones?” he said. “Aren’t we the ambitious little lawyer.”
Gumiela shot him an appreciative glance, the edges of her lips turned up in a slight smile. Well done, Bartholomew, she sent. Let’s get rid of this creature.
My pleasure, Nyquist sent.
“Actually, no, I’m not,” this Torkild Zhu said. “I just happen to be the Schnable, Shishani and Salehi partner who was unfortunate enough to be on the Moon right now. In case you haven’t heard of us, we’re a large defense firm. If you have, you might have encountered our nickname instead of our real name. We’re—”
“I’m familiar with S-three,” Gumiela said. “What are you doing representing the Peyti clones? They’re not even individuals. Property can’t hire attorneys.”
Nyquist felt surprised that she had used this argument. It made sense, however. She didn’t want any legal interference at the moment.
“But other individuals can hire attorneys to act in the interest of property,” Zhu said. “To be fair, however, our client—we—are uncertain whether the property laws apply. We seek injunction against any actions you might take involving property laws and clones. We also enjoin you against interrogating the clones of Uzvekmt until the rest of our team arrives. That will take several days. We will be heading to court to find out the rights of these clones and until we have a judge’s ruling, you cannot do anything with them.”
“Seems you already have a judge in your pocket,” Nyquist said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have injunctions.”
“Let me see them,” Gumiela said. “We’re not bound by certain injunctions issued by the Earth Alliance.”
“That’s right,” Zhu said, reaching into his coat. He pulled a small tablet from it. “That’s why we have several dozen injunctions here, from judges all over the Alliance, including two that handle cases here in Armstrong. We’ve enjoined representatives of the Alliance, of the United Domes of the Moon, and of all of the police departments in every dome on the Moon for doing anything except housing the clones until the rest of the team gets here.”
“We don’t act contingent on lawyers,” Gumiela said.
Zhu smiled. H
e was younger than Nyquist thought. The smile didn’t reach the lawyer’s eyes. He was nervous. Maybe he wasn’t that happy being the representative of so many potential mass murderers.
“I understand that, sir,” Zhu said. “Which is why the injunctions are for one month. You may take no action with these clones until the injunctions expire.”
She took the tablet from him. Then she glanced at Nyquist.
What the hell? she sent.
Let me, he sent back.
“Obviously, I haven’t looked at the injunctions,” Nyquist said, “but how do we know that your firm represents these clones?”
“You don’t have to worry about it,” Zhu said. “The courts have already decided—”
“The courts decided because a famous law firm with some clout asked them to consider this. I think we need to validate the injunctions.”
“Go ahead,” Zhu said. “But any court you go to will keep the injunctions in place while ruling on their validity. No court would risk removing the injunction while the risk of injury to those clones is so high. Because the consequences to the court—to the judge, actually—would be severe.”
“Why don’t you just tell us who your client is,” Gumiela said.
“The Government of Peyla,” Zhu said.
Nyquist exhaled. He hadn’t expected that. “The government of an entire planet?”
“Right now, this situation is having a negative impact on the Peyti. Apparently, your port is denying them entry, and you people are refusing to talk with Peyti lawyers of any kind. That’s why I’m here. The government of Peyla has an interest, and while all the court cases play out, you are enjoined from acting against that interest.”
Sorry, Nyquist sent Gumiela. It was worth a shot.
I had hoped we might find out who actually owned the clones, she sent.
You’re assuming it’s not the government of Peyla, Nyquist sent.
She looked at him with great horror. Zhu watched them both, now realizing they were communicating on their private links.
It couldn’t be, she sent.
Nyquist didn’t believe in “couldn’t” any more. He’d had too many surprises this year already. So he shrugged.
“If you two are finished,” Zhu said, “I’ll leave you with the injunctions. But do know this: my firm has incredible resources and if you violate the injunctions, not only will you suffer the legal penalties imposed by the various courts, we will sue you.”
“For what?” Nyquist asked before stopping himself. “Are you going to value the clones? I can save you some time on that. They have no value. They might be property, but they’re worthless property now.”
Zhu’s smile was smarmy, and this time, his eyes weren’t empty. They seemed to be taunting him.
“There’s all kinds of ways of measuring damages in a suit,” Zhu said. “You’ve only thought of one out of thousands.”
Then he pivoted and left the room. Or, rather, most of him left the room. The cologne remained, and probably would unless someone turned on the environmental scrubbers.
Gumiela closed the door. Then she leaned on it. “How the hell am I going to deal with this?” she asked softly.
Nyquist wasn’t even certain she was speaking to him, but he was going to assume she was.
“You look on it as a gift,” he said.
She raised her head, and from her expression, he realized that indeed, she hadn’t thought of him when she spoke initially.
“A gift?” she asked. “Everyone’s after me to get answers. We have to find the next attackers before they hit, and we can’t even talk to the attackers we have in custody.”
“That’s right,” Nyquist said. “But now you can find out what kind of interest the Peyti government has in these clones. You’re probably closer to solving this than you would have been if all of us interrogated those prisoners.”
She shook her head. Then she closed her eyes.
A bulletin came across his links: Do not proceed with any interrogation. Orders from the top have altered. Wait until we receive new orders before moving forward.
That was the general announcement that she had just sent. Nyquist supposed she was sending others as well, probably to her lieutenants, making certain they would prevent any action from being taken.
“You said this was a gift.”
It took Nyquist a minute to realize she was speaking out loud to him.
He nodded. “You said it. Everyone expects you to get answers, and you know that you can’t. You know those lawyers will never talk. You know that what information we would get would be tainted, particularly if some rogue detectives decided to break some property.”
She looked at him sideways, as if looking at him full on meant that she would have to agree with everything he said.
“Now, you can blame S-three or the Peyti government or whoever you want. You can blame your superiors. You can blame the Earth Alliance, or the judges. It’s out of your hands.”
And, he thought but didn’t say, it probably just saved your career.
Her cheeks flushed slightly. She looked down. He had a sense she understood what he had just implied.
“Gift is probably the wrong word,” she said. “Especially if we get attacked again.”
She was ever the politician. But he agreed with that sentiment.
“Still, you’re right. It takes some of the pressure off.” She sighed and stood up. “Now all I have to do is make sure these injunctions are legitimate. Then I’m going to see if we can investigate S-three’s clients. I really don’t want to hand this off to the Earth Alliance, do you?”
“No,” he said. “And if you need help looking into things—”
“I will turn to you, Bartholomew. Thank you.”
And then she walked out of the room, leaving him alone with the cologne. He felt shaken.
He wasn’t even certain he agreed with himself. A gift? Maybe. But it was also a burden. He wanted to catch the perpetrators, and interrogating the Peyti clones would have felt like he was doing something.
He went out the other door, into the now-empty bull pen. That restlessness, that need to do something, made him wonder if he was more of a hypocrite than he realized.
Had he gone in to talk with Gumiela to stop Romey and others like her?
Or had he wanted Gumiela to clarify the rules?
And if she had made it official that no one would get punished for harming the clones, what would he have done?
Nyquist was very glad he would never find out.
THIRTY-ONE
AS FLINT LEFT DeRicci’s office, he felt like he’d won a Pyrrhic victory. She would use the methods he had developed to find the Peyti clones only a week ago to see if other large groups of clones existed on the Moon. Only it would be a bit worse than the methods he used. He had traced the clones of a known mass murderer. DeRicci would be looking for large groups of similar faces, no matter what the species. Then DeRicci would have to determine how many clones of an original were “normal” and how many were “suspicious.” Once she deemed them suspicious, she would try to match them to known killers.
Or something. He wasn’t sure about the second half of how the search would work.
But he did know this: If DeRicci found anything, her actions might have a negative impact on a lot of individuals as wonderful and innocent as Talia.
At least DeRicci understood that. She was someone he could trust to use the power she had minimally, taking it no farther than she needed to.
The needs were what worried him. Times were extraordinary, and he was enough of a student of history to know that procedures developed in extraordinary times were often misused in ordinary times.
He also knew that DeRicci wouldn’t be in charge forever.
But she was in charge at the moment. He had to trust her to do the right thing. Because, as he kept reminding himself, if they didn’t figure out where, when, and what that third attack would be, then his concerns about clones and individual rights woul
dn’t matter at all.
He didn’t see Talia. He had expected to find her in one of the chairs littering the reception area where Popova’s desk was.
Popova watched him for a moment, as if she were trying to decide something. Then she beckoned him.
He stepped forward, a bit surprised. Popova wasn’t the beckoning type.
“Sit for a minute,” she said.
“I need to find Talia,” he said.
“She’s in the bathroom. She’ll be there a while.”
He felt a surge of panic. “She’s sick?”
Popova shook her head. “She’s getting herself together again.”
Flint glanced toward the restrooms. If Talia was letting other people see how poorly she was doing, then she was in very bad shape indeed.
“Listen,” Popova said. “I know someone.”
He looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed. The normally unflappable Rudra Popova was flapped.
“There’s a therapist I saw after Arek died. I needed someone to talk to.” Popova’s voice was soft.
Flint remembered how she had been in the days after Anniversary Day. She had been just like Talia, emotions right on the surface, unable to function the way she had before.
Popova was no longer the woman she had been before Anniversary Day, but that day had changed everyone. She was closer to that woman, though, than she had been after Anniversary Day. At that point, DeRicci hadn’t been certain if Popova would be able to remain on the job. DeRicci hadn’t been certain Popova would ever recover—and neither had Flint.
“Talia needs someone,” Popova said, as if she thought Flint were going to contradict her. “She’s hit a breaking point and, no offense, you’re not the person she can turn to. Neither am I, and I doubt a girl like her has the right kind of friends who can help her through this.”
Popova was right; Talia didn’t have anyone she could talk to, not about the things that truly disturbed her.
The Peyti Crisis: A Retrieval Artist Novel: Book Five of the Anniversary Day Saga (Retrieval Artist series 12) Page 18