Isolate

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  In moments, Ysella led her sister into the study.

  Obreduur stood immediately and inclined his head to Emrelda. “I’m sorry to meet you this way. However, there are some things you should know and see.” He gestured toward the three chairs.

  While Dekkard closed the study door, Ysella guided her sister into the center chair, then took the chair to her left.

  After everyone was seated, Obreduur eased the package Dekkard had received across the desk to where Emrelda could see the address on the outside of the wrapping resting on the box.

  She stiffened and paled slightly as she read it. “That’s Markell’s handwriting, but why to Steffan?”

  “The letter explaining it is in the box with some papers,” said Dekkard. “I was as stunned to receive it as you are now. It arrived here late on Duadi, and we had no way to reach you. It’s been kept in a safe since then.”

  Emrelda’s hand was steady as she lifted the wrapping off the stationery box, but she frowned as she saw the box. “There was a stack of stationery, without a box, in his suitcase, but why…” She opened the box and saw the letter.

  “Do you want me to read it?” asked Ysella gently.

  Emrelda gave a curt shake of her head as she took the letter. Her hands were shaking as she finished reading and replaced the letter on top of the set of plans. Her eyes glistened.

  Ysella handed her sister a handkerchief.

  “I’m sorry,” said Dekkard as gently as he could. He’d worried about Markell’s last lines at the bottom. “I couldn’t see any easier way.”

  “No … it’s better … I saw for myself.” Emrelda blotted her eyes, then said, her voice icy, “Those bastards. Those absolute bastards.” After several moments, she said, “There must be more, or we all wouldn’t be here.”

  “Councilor Obreduur has some contacts,” said Dekkard. “We gave a sheet of the working plans to them. They discovered that the plan paper is only used by Siincleer Engineering. For us, that’s conclusive.”

  “But not for a Security patroller or agent,” replied Emrelda.

  “Some other councilors have found two instances where similar apparent mishaps and accidental deaths destroyed growing organizations competing with larger corporacions,” said Obreduur quietly. “Again, it’s not proof, but the similarities are disturbing.”

  Emrelda looked at Obreduur. “What else do we need? What else can we do?”

  “You suggested you had something,” said Ysella gently.

  “It’s not as much as you have, and that’s not enough to prove anything.”

  “If we get enough pieces…” suggested Dekkard.

  Emrelda straightened herself in the chair. “The nearest Security patrol station assigned me a local patroller to help me. He was there as much to see that nothing happened to me and that the area chief wasn’t surprised if I turned up something. It was all political. The area chief wants to stop the quiet strong-arming by Siincleer Shipbuilding, but he can’t investigate too much without things happening, either to him or his family … or his better patrollers. But if a patroller from Machtarn who’s looking for her vanished husband turns up with some answers … well, if something happens to her, then he’s got some leverage. I wish I’d found more, but it was all what wasn’t there.”

  “What wasn’t there?” asked Dekkard.

  “Too much,” replied Emrelda. “Both the security guard and the night clerk at the small hotel where Markell and the on-site project manager and a few others from Engaard Engineering were staying don’t remember anything from the night that Markell disappeared. The local patrollers even brought in an empath to check that, but the two were telling the truth.”

  “Then a high-level empath or possibly two overloaded their short-term memories with conflicting feelings,” said Ysella.

  “That’s not quite in the report,” said Emrelda. “It just says that it was verified that neither man could remember events between the fourth and fifth bells of night.”

  “What else wasn’t there?” asked Obreduur.

  “The on-site project manager is also missing. That didn’t make the newssheets, because he didn’t disappear until the afternoon just before I arrived. Well … no one could find him on Duadi, and no one bothered to look because he was very agitated after he’d gotten word his wife was deathly ill. She lives on the south side of Siincleer. When they went there on Furdi, she was fine, and denied sending any messages. They didn’t find any trace of him until late on Furdi. What they found was his jacket in a dinghy borrowed from one of the piers that had grounded on the rocky beach five milles southwest of Siincleer.”

  “All of this reeks of empaths,” said Ysella. “Halaard Engaard’s death was no natural heart attack, but brought on by projections of strong emotions. Markell was abducted with the aid of empaths, and the one man who was directing the flawed construction has vanished or is dead, most likely because he was lured away by a forged message or someone who convinced him emotionally that his wife was dying.”

  “Everyone will blame it on Markell,” said Emrelda. “He did the engineering design. They’ll say that Engaard’s death was due to his shock at discovering the bad design, and that the on-site project manager discovered he’d be found out because he colluded with Markell.”

  “That doesn’t make logical sense,” said Ysella, “but with all three missing or dead, who’s going to question it except us?”

  “Markell’s not merely missing,” said Emrelda bleakly. “He’d never vanish. And he’d never agree to anything corrupt.”

  No one said anything for several moments.

  Finally, Ysella turned to her sister. “It may be that all we can do is bring this to light and, if we’re fortunate and able, try to punish those responsible and keep them from doing it again.”

  “That’s a start.” The cold steel in Emrelda’s voice sent a shiver down Dekkard’s spine.

  “Are you sure?” asked Obreduur quietly.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes. Where do we start?”

  “We’ve already begun,” replied Obreduur. “Do you know the name of the on-site project manager?”

  “Pietr Vonholm. I don’t know much more than that.”

  “I’ll have an operative look into certain aspects of his financial or work-history matters. In the meantime, you need to keep doing your job and keep your eyes and ears open. For now, I think we need to keep the letter and the plans locked away.”

  “For now,” agreed Emrelda.

  Dekkard could tell she wanted that last letter from Markell, and he couldn’t blame her, but he also knew she was more likely to have it in the end if it stayed in Obreduur’s safe.

  “I’d also suggest sending letters to the patroller who assisted you and to that patrol chief, thanking them and asking, should they run across anything else, that they keep you informed,” said Obreduur, “because you’ve since uncovered more information.”

  “Do you think that will do much good?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ve found that if you don’t remind people they forget too quickly. The reference to more information might stir things up, and I’ll see about having someone in Siincleer keep an eye out for any reaction.”

  Emrelda took a deep breath. “I don’t want to sound pushy … but is that all?”

  “No. There are several other angles I’m pursuing, but they’ll take a little more time. I can plant some information with the newssheets to see who gets the building contract and what their ties might be, and also see if political contacts are involved.” Obreduur paused, then asked, “Do you have any recommendations on what else I might do?”

  “You said this sort of thing happened before,” returned Emrelda. “Could you find out if the small organizations were led by outsiders, ambitious people outside the Commercer network, so to speak?”

  “Was Halaard Engaard a comparative newcomer?” asked Dekkard.

  “His father was a smallholder near Khuld. Not a Landor and not from Commerce marks.”

&n
bsp; Obreduur nodded. “That might be very useful. Is there anything else?”

  “Are there any Security records on missing people? Records that would show how many engineers, troublesome legalists, guild staffers just vanished?”

  Obreduur laughed bitterly and sardonically. “If there were any such records, they were destroyed when the fire gutted Security Ministry headquarters.”

  Dekkard grinned. “What if that was the reason the fire was set? What if outsiders didn’t set it?”

  “Are you suggesting that I propose that?” Obreduur’s tone was curious.

  “No … but it might be interesting if speculations along those lines appeared. That just might force Minister Wyath to make public more information about who did set the fires. Or he might refuse to divulge more, in which case a councilor might honestly ask why he refuses to make the information public … and what other information is being withheld … and why?” Dekkard paused. “It might even be possible to raise the question of what Security knew about the Kraffeist Affair.”

  Obreduur nodded again. “That has possibilities.” He turned to Emrelda. “If you come up with any other information or suggestions, you can let me know or tell Avraal.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your looking into this.” Emrelda rose before Obreduur did.

  “I will keep you informed,” replied Obreduur, “largely through Avraal.”

  Ysella led the way from the study back out to the portico, where the three stood in the shade beside Emrelda’s teal Gresynt. “Would you still like us to come over today?”

  “I’d like that very much.” Emrelda handed her keys to Dekkard. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

  “If that is truly your wish.”

  Emrelda just nodded.

  Dekkard opened the rear door. After both were inside, he got in the driver’s seat and lit off the steamer, then backed carefully down the drive.

  He did not use the mirrors to look into the back seat on the drive to Emrelda’s house. The quiet sobbing and murmured words between the sisters told him more than enough. When they turned north on Jacquez, the sobbing died away, and when he pulled off Florinda Way and into the drive, Emrelda said firmly, “Just leave it under the portico. I’ll drive you back later.”

  Dekkard did as he was told, but did get out of the Gresynt fast enough to open the rear door and hand the keys back to Emrelda. “It’s a good steamer to drive.”

  “I’ve enjoyed it.”

  “I can see why.”

  “Do we need to go shopping?” asked Ysella.

  “I did that yesterday afternoon. I had to do something. I just couldn’t sit or pace around thinking. I thought the two of us could fix a veal dish for an early-afternoon dinner.”

  Dekkard nodded. The rest of the day was going to be very quiet and very domestic, and no one was going to talk about anything upsetting.

  51

  AS Dekkard had predicted, Findi ended up as quiet, sad, and bittersweet, if more bitter than sweet. He did enjoy the excellent veal Kathaar that Emrelda and Ysella fixed, especially with the cremini risotto and the green beans amandine. He endeavored to be quietly cheerful and did his best to support the conversation, rather than direct it.

  When it was time to leave, Emrelda said, “You could just take the other steamer.”

  Dekkard noticed that it was “the other steamer,” rather than “Markell’s steamer.”

  “That’s sweet of you,” replied Ysella, “but there’s nowhere to garage it at the Obreduurs’ house, and the weather could harm it.”

  “I didn’t think about that,” said Emrelda. “But if you want to use it on enddays … it really should be driven.”

  And she doesn’t want to drive it.

  “We’ll keep that in mind,” said Ysella. “Now … you’re sure about tomorrow?”

  “I need to go back to work. When I’m there I can keep my eyes open for the sorts of things I didn’t ever think would happen to us.” Emrelda’s voice turned harder. “You don’t think it can until it does.”

  Unless you’ve seen it happen more than once. But Dekkard just nodded.

  “We could take the omnibus,” offered Ysella. “You’re tired.”

  “Steffan can drive us over. I can certainly manage driving back. Then I might even sleep.”

  Ysella gave the smallest of winces. “You’re sure?”

  “I am.” Emrelda handed her keys to Dekkard. “There’s no point in talking about it. You’ll just get back to the Obreduurs later and get less sleep.”

  “Then we should go,” agreed Ysella.

  Dekkard understood. She didn’t want Emrelda driving back in full darkness. So he led the way to the teal Gresynt. He was also doubly careful in backing down the narrower drive.

  Ysella and Emrelda talked quietly in back while Dekkard chauffeured them to the Obreduurs’ driveway gates. There he got out and opened the rear door. As soon as Emrelda stepped out, Dekkard returned her keys.

  Surprisingly to Dekkard, Emrelda hugged him, then murmured, “Thank you so much.”

  Ysella got a longer hug before Emrelda got into her Gresynt and gave a brief wave, before pulling away from the drive.

  Dekkard and Ysella watched, but as soon as Emrelda was out of sight, he turned to Ysella. “She’s stubborn, but she hurts a lot.”

  “She never looked at anyone else. Neither did he. Have you thought of anything else we could do?”

  “Outside of kidnapping the head of Siincleer Engineering and interrogating him? And a few others. Not a thing. What about you?”

  “I said I’d never do interrogations. I might make an exception here … if I get the chance.” Ysella’s voice was cold in the same fashion as Emrelda’s had been. “I almost agree with the New Meritorists … except doing it their way would give the Commercers more power in the long run.”

  A thought occurred to Dekkard, but he frowned, wondering if he should bring it up.

  “What is it?” asked Ysella.

  “I was just remembering. That night after Councilor Freust’s memorial when the empie assassin targeted—”

  “What about it?”

  “You said she was stupid. Was that because you thought she’d undo all the reforms created after the Silent Revolution?”

  “Not exactly. I could see it if she’d targeted someone like Ulrich or some of the hidebound Landors, but Obreduur isn’t like them.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly why he was targeted,” suggested Dekkard.

  “Oh … they’re afraid he might get enough reform to cut support for a total revolution?”

  “It makes sense to me, either way. The Commercers don’t want any change, and the New Meritorists want total change. Neither has much use for anything else. That’s why we need to get the Commercers out of power soon … or it won’t make any difference,” said Dekkard bleakly. “I knew there were problems, but not that they were like this. Did you?”

  “That the Commercers were into disappearing people? I didn’t know they’d stooped that low. I’ve known that political rivals had unexplained difficulties, but those were short of murder or vanishing. Councilor Freust’s death was the first I saw as a possible political removal.”

  “It also explains why the logistics director of Eastern Ironway is missing. He was either disappeared or fled in fear that he would be.”

  “Do you think he’s still alive?” asked Ysella.

  “There’s a good possibility, since they sent descriptions to all Security stations.”

  “You really do keep confidences, don’t you?”

  Dekkard frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Obreduur told me that you drove ‘Sr. Muller’ to the docks.”

  “He told me not to say anything. Usually, he tells me if he’s told you.”

  “I admire that in you. In fact, there’s a lot in you I admire.”

  “I admire pretty much everything in you,” Dekkard admitted. “I can’t imagine partnering with anyone else.” In anything. But he wasn’t ready to say th
at. Not yet.

  “I feel the same.” Abruptly, Ysella looked toward the house. “We should head in.”

  “I suppose so,” said Dekkard. “Tomorrow could bring anything.”

  “Or nothing but the routine,” she replied dryly.

  They turned and walked through the pedestrian gate and up the drive.

  52

  UNADI, Duadi, and Tridi dragged out for Dekkard and Ysella. Obreduur was involved in Craft Party caucuses and floor debates over the supplemental funding, although he had assured both of his security aides that he’d had no word back on his inquiries about Markell and Siincleer Shipbuilding.

  When Dekkard scanned the morning edition of Gestirn on Furdi and found stories on flooding along the Rio Doro, more piracy by Sargassan brigands—involving, of course, vessels owned by Transoceanic Shipping—and unseasonably warm temperatures in Surpunta, he didn’t know what to think, because it had been days, if not longer, since the newssheet had run a story on the Council, on demonstrators, on any aspect of coal or natural resources, or anything at all happening in Siincleer … and there certainly hadn’t been any mention of the New Meritorists.

  Why are you so surprised? he asked himself. Until the last few months nothing like any of those appeared in the newssheets. At the same time, he had the feeling that more was happening than most people were seeing, including the newssheets and the Council.

  But since he just might be very much mistaken, he said nothing about his feelings at breakfast or while he drove Obreduur and Ysella to the Council Office Building. After he dropped them off and parked the Gresynt, warily watching the area all around him, he noted that the number of Council Guards was less than it had been recently, as if Premier Ulrich had decided that there was no additional risk to councilors and staff.

  Except to one particular staffer.

  He climbed the staff stairway and was walking along the corridor toward the office when he saw coming toward him Stavros Rhennus, the isolate for Councilor Mardosh.

  “Stavros … I haven’t seen you in weeks. Both Avraal and I were shocked when we heard about Mathilde’s disappearance. How are you doing?”