"You would have a functioning persona capable of self-analysis. It might be possible to simply ask it why it failed."
Derec felt eager to try. He wanted to say yes. He distrusted the impulse, but the idea excited him.
"Continue running the simulations until I can find out more about Kopernik's lab."
"Yes, Derec."
The light on the comm winked on. Derec leaned closer: Ariel was calling. "We may have that answer now," he said, and reached for the ACCEPT button. His hand trembled slightly; he clenched it into a fist for a moment, then pressed the contact. Hofton brought the link to Derec's apartment. Derec opened the small metal case and ran a diagnostic on the device.
"Our shuttle lifts in an hour, twenty minutes," Hofton said. "Are you packed?"
Derec pointed to a single large case by the door. "This'll take about half an hour, " he said, patting the side of the link. "Thales, we have a Mark-Six Collaborative Transcriptor."
"You requested a Mark-Four."
"Is this a problem?"
"No, this is a considerable improvement. Refresh periods can be at greater intervals and more thorough."
Derec looked at Hofton.
"I took a few liberties," the aide said. "No one was using this one."
Derec smiled. "I didn't realize you were such a good scrounger."
"The position of 'aide' is descriptively vague for a reason," Hofton said.
The diagnostic winked green. "The unit checks one hundred percent, Thales. Are you ready?"
"I have modified the download pathways to accommodate the superior unit. Start with nodes eight through fourteen. "
Derec opened a panel on Thales' console and began attaching thick connectors. "Did you happen to find out who's running the lab on Kopernik?"
"Yes'," Hofton said. "Rotij Polifos."
"I don't know him. Is he good?"
"He's been director for the past seven years."
"Hm. Anybody else?"
"There are two specialists and six interns. From what I saw, I think you'll be pleased. I also did some background on Mr. Lanra and his friend on Kopernik."
Derec rechecked the connections, then pressed a contact labeled OPEN CHANNEL. He watched the indicators for a few seconds.
"Coren Lanra used to be Special Service," Derec said.
"Yes, he did. So was Sipha Palen. In fact, they partnered together in Service."
"Why'd they quit?"
"Ideology, apparently. In Mr. Lanra's case, he disapproved of the changes in Terran policy toward positronics. He resigned roughly at the time we were beginning work on the Union Station RI. Ms. Palen requested reassignment after being attached to Senator Kolbren's office."
"Kolbren…isn't he the one that sponsored the legislation attempting to bar all Spacers from public areas? For health reasons, if I recall."
"In essence. It was a quarantine measure. It didn't even get out of committee, but Kolbren keeps winning reelection. Ms. Palen asked for a new position and was refused. She resigned. Shortly afterward, she accepted her current position as chief of security for Kopernik. "
Derec grunted. "Odd. She resented working for a rabid anti-Spacer, and her former partner resented growing cooperation with Spacers. How did they get along as partners?"
"I'm not psychic. Your guess is as good as mine. I suppose they found other things upon which to base their relationship. "
Derec looked at Hofton. He could never tell when the man was being sincere or sardonic. It annoyed him that Ariel seemed to like Hofton so much-Derec's own dry wit irritated her.
"Both, however," Hofton continued, "had exemplary records while in Special Service."
"And now he works for a man who wants to see us all thrown off Earth." Derec shrugged. "So we cooperate with him."
"A quandary. It is odd."
"Any ideas?"
"None I'd be willing to share at the moment."
Hofton's expression remained politely attentive, betraying nothing more. He had worked for Ariel for nearly three years. Before Hofton, she had gone through four other aides in something over two years. Derec had never asked about them or asked why Hofton was different. He wanted to ask now.
Instead, he said, "Hofton, you're perfect."
"One tries, sir."
Derec laughed, and was rewarded by a faint smile from Hofton.
"Anything else I need to know about these people?" Derec asked.
"I'm not sure. One curious fact about Mr. Lanra came up. He's an orphan."
"Really."
"Yes, sir. He matriculated from the Connover-Trinidal Youth Asylum, a life-long resident. I find this remarkable because many people from the same background don't enjoy much success."
"He never knew his parents?"
"No. And, of course, the records are sealed. But as far as I could tell, he never tried to look into them."
"Hm. What about Palen?"
"Very much the opposite. Large, extended family, prosperous, the best schools, etcetera. " Hofton waited a beat. "Should I continue looking?"
"Not on my account. Maybe Ariel would like to know more. Is Lanra accompanying us to Kopernik?"
"No, sir. He has lines of investigation down here…so he says. "
Derec gave Hofton a curious look.
"The shuttle up to Kopernik two days ago," Hofton said, "was his first trip offworld."
For a few seconds, Derec did not understand. Then: "Oh. Well, then, I suppose it's just as well he has things to do down here. "
Hofton nodded. "I think it's for the best. "
"Probably."
"We may find Ms. Palen more cooperative anyway, simply because she doesn't work for Rega Looms."
"That's certainly a possibility."
They fell silent then, and Derec stared at the link until a light winked on requesting the next phase of its setup. Derec worked silently, rearranging the connections, reconfiguring part of the device to match the next part of Thales' requirements.
Hofton softly cleared his throat. "May I ask a question, sir?"
"Sure."
"Why are you involving yourself in this?"
Derec straightened, trying to compose an explanation of the link and why Thales required it due to the distances involved and the complexity of the job, but stopped, comprehending the question a moment later.
"You mean with this investigation?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I could ask you the same." Hofton waited and Derec nodded. "I love this," he said, waving at Thales. "Working with positronics. Working, period. I hate inactivity."
"You could do calisthenics in that case."
Derec laughed briefly. "I'm doing this because I can, because it might give me a chance to do something I want to do. Because the chance to get my hands on the tools to do some serious work is worth the risk."
"You'd like to rebuild your robot, Bogard."
"Of course I would, but it's more than that."
"There are several good reasons for you to refuse."
"I know. I'm not going to think about them." Derec looked at Hofton. "You?"
"You mentioned inactivity. Do you have any idea how dull diplomatic work can be?" He smiled wryly. "Seriously, though, I have been with perhaps a dozen senior diplomats. The work was interesting-more so in the beginning, before the desensitizing produced by overfamiliarity and intimate contempt-but rarely challenging. Even so, had my various superiors been in the least worth the bother, I would never have complained, much less transferred. I never thought I'd find myself working for someone like Ambassador Burgess. It was very difficult when I was forced to leave her service last year. I admit, I'd begun to take her for granted. But I just finished several months with a man named Cotish Valgas, who is a deputy overseer in Furnishing and Accoutrements. Yes, there is such a department-I was shocked myself. Suffice it to say that I'll never take Ms. Burgess for granted again."
"She's special, isn't she?"
Hofton nodded slowly, his eyes bright and sharp. "She is that, sir."
"Because she's been ordered to."
Derec shook his head. "No, no. You've known her for all this time. Is that the Ariel you know?"
Hofton frowned. "She's more disciplined, I think, than you give her credit. " He blinked and folded his arms. "But, no, not really. She could easily refuse. She's been expecting a recall to Aurora anyway."
"So?"
"I think she wants a chance to get even. "
"With who?"
"All of them, sir. All of them." He glanced at his watch. "We have an hour before the shuttle leaves. Will you be done?"
Derec checked the monitors. "Five more minutes."
Hofton cleared his throat, and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Um…I spoke perhaps too openly, Mr. Avery-"
"She'll never hear about it from me." Hofton looked mildly relieved. "Under one condition."
"Sir?"
"Call me Derec."
"I'll do my best, sir."
Ten
Three people were waiting in his office when Coren returned. Two of them wore the look of professional security-well-dressed but practical, no clothing that would bind and impede a wide range of movement-while the third looked very administrative. Coren recognized none of them other than by type. He resisted the immediate urge to run; right now he did not have time for further complications.
"Mr. Lanra," the administrative type said. "I'm Del Socras. I work for Mr. Myler Towne of Imbitek. Forgive the intrusion, but I was instructed to convey Mr. Towne's regards and extend his invitation to lunch. "
Coren glanced at the security, both of whom had risen to their feet upon his entrance. "I really am rather busy, Mr. Socras. "
"Mr. Towne realizes this. It will be a brief lunch."
Coren considered his options: run, call the police, or comply. From the look of the pair of security types, it was even odds that he could get away. Dragging in the police might complicate things to the point that his investigation of Nyom's death would have to be postponed or abandoned. It always seemed to be the petty things that interrupted one's plans.
That was the problem, though. If it were petty; why would Towne be so insistent? Reluctantly, he concluded that his only viable option was to go along and find out.
"Very well. Shall I meet him somewhere?"
"We have a car, Mr. Lanra."
"Of course you do." Coren made himself smile. "Shall we, then?"
"One moment, sir," one of the security said and pulled out a palm monitor that looked remarkably like Coren's own. He walked around Coren twice, then reached into Coren's pocket and removed his hemisphere. He handed it to Towne.
"I don't think you'll need this, Mr. Lanra," Towne said, setting it on the Desk. "Our security is very good."
"I'm sure it is," Coren said tightly.
Socras led the way out of the building and across the avenue to the garage.
The drive lasted fifteen minutes, during which time Socras made a few attempts at polite conversation which Coren ignored. To his credit, Coren thought, he took the hint and lapsed into a polite silence.
The windows were all darkened. When they stopped, he had no idea where exactly he was.
He was shocked to see a garden.
Outside? No-he saw delicate ribbing overhead, supporting a high vaulting ceiling. Relieved, he surveyed the rest of the chamber. A garden, yes, and an expensive one.
A large dead patch off to the left, an area that looked as if some withering blight had eaten the life out of the very air around it, spoiled the placid beauty around him. Even the pavement and wall nearby were blackened.
A touch on his elbow prompted him to move forward.
Myler Towne sat behind a small table covered with dishes. He dwarfed his chair and made the people around him appear small. He looked up as Coren stopped.
"Mr. Lanra, " he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I'm pleased you accepted my invitation. "
"Is that what it was?"
"Of course. It's illegal to coerce people."
"Of course it is. What can I do for you, Mr. Towne?"
"Come to work for me."
Coren held back a laugh.
Towne looked at him, scooped a mound of mashed potato onto his fork, and smiled.
"Neither of us," he said, "has time for banter. I have some questions before you answer me. You saw the damage when you came in?"
"Yes…"
"I used to take my lunch there."
Coren glanced back at the dead patch. "You mean that was an attack?"
"Did you engineer it?"
Coren started. "Excuse me?"
Towne smiled briefly. "I didn't think so. Have you ever worked for Imbitek?"
"I think you'd know."
"Possibly. I don't have all my predecessor's records." Towne waited, ate another bite of potato, then pushed the plate away a thumb's width. "Did you?"
"No."
"You were involved in that imbroglio last year that put Mr. Mikels in prison, weren't you?"
"No."
Myler Towne glanced around at his people. "I was misinformed? I was under the impression that you met with the Auroran liaison from the Calvin Institute. Was that on some other matter? I ask, you see, for a number of reasons, not all of which may be immediately connected-"
"My employer was under suspicion for the events that put your employer in prison, Mr. Towne. I was doing my job, seeing to his security. I was not, however, involved in any of it."
"Hmm. Indeed. Then why have you been twice to the Auroran embassy in the last two days?"
"Your first message to call came before either of those meetings, so I assume your reasons had nothing to do with that. Have they changed?"
"When I hire someone I want to know about them."
"You aren't hiring me."
Towne gave a mock frown of disbelief. "You 're turning my offer down?"
"I am."
"But you haven't even heard it."
Coren sighed. "Must I?"
Myler Towne stood. He was an enormous man, easily head and shoulders taller than Coren, and not, as Coren first suspected, run to fat. For his size, he had a trim waistline, which implied that the shoulders filling his smock were solid and powerful.
"It's such a good offer," Towne said.
He came around the small table and an attendant immediately began clearing off the dishes. Another removed the table, and a third took away the chair.
Towne took Coren's upper right arm in a massive hand that nearly encircled his bicep. "Walk with me, Mr. Lanra."
Coren moved without thinking. There was no question of refusing.
Towne guided him deeper into the arboreta. The scents of various flowers mingled, almost too sweet. The colors competed for his eye.
"Do you like it?" Towne asked.
"It's…astonishing."
"Not entirely decorative. Beautiful, yes, but this is a working facility. There are several plots of non-Terran plantlife."
"Isn't that…?"
"Illegal? No, we have permission. Well, for most of them. A few unexpected forms got in with the authorized seeds and have proven useful. We do a substantial business in pharmaceuticals, as well as our industrial divisions. "
Coren glanced back in the direction of the "accident" and shuddered.
"No, that wasn't caused by an alien plant," Towne said. "Not directly, at least. We manage the biospheres here better than that. What you saw was a deliberate attempt to kill me. A very fast-acting substance-something we call a decompiler-was introduced in a standard defoliant. The plants we grew there possessed a method of self-defense that produced a cloud of protein molecules as they tried to rid themselves of the infection-in this instance a hopeless task, but it kept the poor things spewing vapor. I liked to eat there because the molecules so produced have a very pleasant aroma and a side benefit for the palate. Anyway, the moment this compound, which the plants continuously kept in the air, came into contact with flesh, it reacted with the
adiposa and began to work faster. Much faster. One of my gardeners wandered in there just before lunch a few day sago. The entire plot was reduced to the state you saw in about ten minutes."
"Um…" Coren worked to keep the image out of his head and failed. "So someone is trying to assassinate you?"
"Absolutely."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"Nothing. That's why I called you. I live within thick layers of security, Mr. Lanra. For someone to get that close…"
Coren nodded, understanding perfectly. "You don't trust your own staff."
"There are a few, of course, but I'm not sure I would secure the results I need if I were to put them to finding the traitor. I think it would be better done by an outsider, someone not overly familiar with the situation or the personnel involved."
"I suppose its pointless to ask if there was surveillance."
"Constant. We have nothing. We've reviewed the record and nothing unusual happened. I have one gardener for that plot-had, I should say-and he was the only one recorded tending the area. I doubt he would have been stupid enough to step into his own trap had he laid it."
"It would be extreme. Any idea who ordered it?"
"Oh, yes, I have a very good idea. I can't prove it. And I'd rather not say just now."
At that point, Towne released Coren's arm and stopped. Coren turned to face him.
"I would rather wait till I hear your answer," Towne said.
Coren shook his head. "Any other time, Mr. Towne, I might consider it. But just now…"
"I'll pay you half a million credits. Half now, half when your investigation is successful."
Coren's breath exploded as if he had been punched.
"Don't be shocked, Mr. Lanra, I'm very serious. This is worth considerably more to me than a half million."
"Forgive me, Mr. Towne…" Coren swallowed. "You must know that I can't accept. I have other responsibilities right now-"
"Looms' election? You can't think he'll win. Besides, I know that you've essentially delegated his security to your subordinate. "
"That's not the only thing, but I do owe some loyalty to Mr. Looms. How would it look if I left his employ now?"
Towne nodded. "It would look bad. I won't try to tell you that his election would be an inconvenience to Imbitek. Seeing him fail would hardly be unwelcome. But I think he will, anyway. So do you. Or you 're not as smart as I thought. "
Chimera (isaac asimov's robot mystery) Page 12