Archform Beauty

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  You haven't heard? He jumped off a tower. Onto a stone courtyard. Squashed flatter than flat. So what do you have?

  You've got what I have.

  The damned filch committed suicide, and you tell me you can't find anything more on him?

  I winced at the violence of Bimstein's link, and I had to wait a moment before replying. You had me working on all the other stuff, and there's not much there. I can't even speculate without something, but I do have an idea.

  An idea? Better be good.

  The filch are different. We're all open screens… see their images, and that's all you see. McCall is a perfect example… vid-perfect solicitor. Yet he's been indicted for murder. How much of the filch don't we see? What really goes on behind those nanite screens? I checked on his wife, and his closer acquaintances. It's the same thing there.

  Hmmm… have to think about that. I'll get back to you.

  I almost laughed. What he meant was that he was going to see if anyone else could find anything on McCall, and if no one came up with anything, then… then he might buy my approach.

  I swallowed hard and tried the link to Maeda Forsala's office. I was scarcely surprised when I got a simmie, dressed in a dark suit with a pale mauve blouse.

  "This is Maeda Forsala. Please leave a link code and a message.”

  Since her greeting was spoken, old style, I activated the speaker and projection and spoke my reply. "Ah… this is Jude Parsfal of NetPrime. I'm trying to track down some information…”

  The simmie projection wavered and was replaced with a second image. This one also wore a dark suit, but the blouse was cream, and the dark hair was longer and swept back. "Mr. Parsfal… how might I help you, if I can?"

  "I'm a researcher with NetPrime, ser. I'm trying to find out more information about Evan and Nanette McCall…”

  "Someone told you that she had retained me, I'm certain.”

  Her response surprised me, but I just answered, "That's what I'd been told, but it didn't seem to track…” I was gambling with that, hoping I'd read it right.

  "Bravo, Mr. Parsfal. You're the first of several who seems to have done the background work. For that, you can have the information.” She smiled, and her teeth gleamed like a shark's. "It's not a violation of privacy. Nanette was not a client of mine. She never contacted me, and you may quote me on that. So far as I know, she was happily married to Evan.”

  "Is it possible she might have contacted another domestic relations solicitor or advocate?"

  "Possible, but highly unlikely. We'd known each other personally for years.”

  Left unspoken was the fact that Forsala had the reputation for being the best at that sort of thing. "Why do you think this rumor is being circulated, then?"

  "I cannot speculate on that. That's your job, Mr. Parsfal.”

  "Mrs. McCall—"

  "She went by Nanette Iveson, except on social occasions, or when the children were involved when she was younger.”

  "Nanette Iveson was well known as a physiological child psychologist.”

  "She was indeed. She was not as social as Evan, and she was far more perceptive.”

  "I see.” I thought I did, but how could I ask the right questions? "Had you heard that Evan jumped from the tower at his home and died early this afternoon?"

  The startled expression on her face was a clear answer that she had not. "No. I hadn't.” After a moment, she added, "I had never thought of Evan as that decisive. But one never knows.” She paused, but not long enough to let me ask another question. "I don't think I can add anything else, Mr. Parsfal. Good day.”

  I was looking at nothing and collapsed the blank holo projection. I'd been as much as told that the rumor was false, and that McCall didn't have the guts to commit suicide. That was just wonderful. I had less than nothing of substance there—except that Nanette Iveson had not been seeking a divorce.

  I managed to find Kerrigan's firm's link codes and tapped them in, only to discover he also required a holo projection link.

  "This is Jude Parsfal of NetPrime—"

  The simmie vanished. A dark-haired and rugged-looking man of that indeterminate age that was so common appeared. "What do you want?" He sounded annoyed.

  "Ah… any information you can provide on Evan McCall. You were his closest friend.”

  Kerrigan laughed, bitterly. "So you can twist things yet another way?" He paused, and his face smoothed. "I apologize, Mr. Parsfal. Since we've never talked before, I may be assuming what might not be true.”

  "I'm sorry. I've been given the job of finding background. Frankly, there's very little there, and half of what is supposedly common knowledge isn't even true.” That was stretching it slightly, but it wouldn't hurt. "I hate to bother you now, after the latest…”

  Kerrigan straightened up. "The latest? He was indicted for murder. That was crazy enough, but… there's more?"

  "He committed suicide by jumping from a tower a little while ago.”

  Kerrigan looked totally stunned. "I can't believe that.”

  "The recsat system has it on databloc.”

  Kerrigan shook his head. "I wouldn't… I don't see how…”

  "I'd heard that you were often his tennis partner. You knew him fairly well?"

  "As well as anyone… Are you sure about the suicide?"

  "That's the DPS report.”

  "I can't believe it. He was friendly to everyone. This has been so unfair.”

  "Some have said you only knew him through tennis…”

  "We saw each other socially sometimes, but usually… on the tennis court. We played most Saturdays. Evan was a good player, not great, but good. He didn't talk much. He never did.”

  "I understand that he and his wife were very close.”

  "You wouldn't know it from the way DPS has handled it.” He offered another bitter laugh. "Yes, they were. Evan couldn't have laid a hand on Nanette. First, he loved her too much. It was evident in everything he said or did. Second, he was a technical idiot. He was always having to have his staff readjust his holo projection or his link settings.”

  "Why do you think the DPS charged him, then?"

  Kerrigan shrugged. 'That would be the kind of speculation that I'd rather not engage in. I'd guess that they were misled, but that would be a guess, and it's not for attribution.”

  "Would you object to a report that said sources close to the family believe DPS was misled?"

  "If you think that might be the case… I don't know. It's only a guess.”

  "Can you think of anyone who might want to see McCall dead?"

  "Are you thinking he was murdered?"

  "I don't know what to think.” That was definitely true.

  "Evan?" Kerrigan frowned. "No one personally, that's certain. Everyone I know who knew him liked him. I don't know anything about his practice. He was a privacy solicitor, and he never said a word about a client in the whole time I knew him. I wouldn't know one of his clients if they walked up to me or if someone handed me a list.”

  "Do you know anyone who might?"

  "Only his junior associates. Knowing the way Evan was, I'm certain they wouldn't say anything to the media. They might have said something to DPS.”

  I offered a few more questions, but Kerrigan had said what he was going to say, and it hadn't been much. Then I put in another call to Marc Oler, but only got the simmie.

  I went through the thin file on Emile Brazelton. It was suggestive. Brazelton was the head of the nanite-based fabricating firm that KC Constructors had hired for the control systems of the shuttle guideway system. KC was Kemal's firm. According to John Ashbaugh, Brazelton had been a client of McCall's. But so had KC Constructors. I was debating how to approach that when Bimstein's overboosted link seared through my skull.

  Parsfal? What have you got on McCall? Now!

  Everyone liked him. He was deeply in love with his wife. He never ever talked business even with his closest friends. Someone put out a rumor that the McCalls had been having tro
uble and that she had retained a solicitor for a separation or divorce. It isn't true.

  You sure of that?

  I got a confirmation and an allowed quote from the solicitor. Also got another source that won't be quoted directly but will allow a quote as a source close to the family. The source claims that DPS was misled, that Evan McCall wouldn't and couldn't have laid a hand on his wife.

  Hmmm… guess we'll play it the other way.

  The other way?

  McCall was truly in love with his wife. He was so distraught by her accidental death and the charges that he'd murdered her that he couldn't take it and jumped.

  Do we know that? I asked.

  We know that they were in love. Got some other confirmations on that from Rehm. We know they didn't have problems. The DPS has just apologized for its hasty action and said that Nanette McCall's death could easily have been caused by an inadvertent misadjustment in the nanite field parameters. They've confirmed that McCall couldn't have readjusted the system.

  That was even stranger.

  You can wrap that up. Send what you've got to Metesta. Then, get back on the ebol background. Five deaths in Denv yesterday, and ten so far today. And I still don't have the last water diversion piece I asked for.

  After Bimstein broke the link, I put together the "source" quotes on McCall and fired them off to Metesta. Then, I just sat in front of my console. That was the news business. McCall had been hot, and now Kerras or someone was doing a wrap-up on the story, probably with a tragic overtone, lamenting the situation, with at least a sideways slam at DPS. And I was supposed to forget it and concentrate on ebol4 and the horror it was likely to bring to Denv and NorAm.

  I shook my head, and the old lines crept into my mind.

  The world is weary of the past

  Oh, might it die or rest at last…

  Sometimes, I felt that way. Sometimes, there was too much to be weary of, and too little of beauty and grace.

  And I had the feeling that the McCall case was a tiny sliver of something far, far larger, something I couldn't even imagine—or have the time to pursue. I decided to finish up the latest diversion segment so Bimstein couldn't hold that over my head. He'd hold something else.

  Chapter 18

  Kemal

  After I stopped by the KC MedCenter for the nanomeds to deal with the ebol4 outbreak, my first appointment on Thursday was with Heber Smith. The meeting would be short. After I met with Heber, I had to talk to O'Bannon about the impact of the orbiter attack. The attack hadn't helped anything. Because of the new fusion tug technology, it might attract attention to the upcoming corporate meeting of MMSystems. It would increase tensions between the Martian Republic and Earth. Increased tensions sometimes led to bad government decisions and greater scrutiny. KC didn't need any of those.

  The ebol4 outbreak was going to make matters bad enough. I'd already made sure Marissa, the children, and the rest of the family got their upgrades right after I did. If I didn't take care of family, who would?

  I put those thoughts aside and went out to greet Heber Smith. He'd taken the company flitter from St. George the night before.

  He looked rested when he walked in. "Somehow, the office fits you, Chris.” He grinned. "It's good to see you.”

  "It's good to see you. It looks like you slept well.”

  "I did. I had dinner with my daughter and her family last night. We've got another grandson.”

  "Family's important.” I gestured to the conference table.

  We both sat down, our backs to the view. There wasn't much, since it was cloudy, and even Mount Evans was obscured.

  "You've got a problem with District Coordinator Dewey,” Heber began.

  "We've always had problems with Dewey. Everyone thinks he's so clean, and that we're so crooked. We're honest. We've told the world that we oppose him. He runs on the idea that we're corrupt thugs.” I snorted. "His cousins run GSY. He gets Cannon to put through that divestiture legislation. They benefit, and he's honest? We built the new shuttle system, but because we built it, we can't maintain it. We can do it better and cheaper, but we're not allowed to. They get most of the profits, but it's clean? The Justiciary bought that crap, too. So we can build systems, but we can't get the maintenance contracts. Or we can let someone else build crap, and take a loss for two years upgrading it through maintenance. That's good government?" "It's good politics,” Heber pointed out. I had to laugh. "You're right. We'll have to do something.”

  "You still have another problem with Dewey.” "What?"

  "He's working with the NorAm Economics and Commerce Committee to draft another piece of legislation.” After a moment, Heber went on, "He wants to limit the royalty markup on proprietary technology to one hundred percent of production costs. That's for public works projects. It wouldn't apply to contracts between private parties. Our counts show that it might pass.”

  "What else?"

  "He's talking about hiring a forensic accounting team. It won't be called that, but that's what it amounts to. He wants to show that—"

  "GSY can do a cheaper job on major projects once they can steal our technology. Politicians like Dewey need to be shot. Or drawn and quartered. They have no idea of the years we've spent in upgrading Brazelton's operations, the engineers we've supported, the design and development costs. All they look at is the markup over the direct production costs. So we need to make sure Alredd wins the election.”

  "We can't. It's not possible, Chris. Dewey's got such a base among the servies, close to seventy percent. He's got sixty percent of the sariman, and forty percent of the filch.”

  I understood the numbers. What I didn't understand was the forty percent of the filch. Dewey was a populist demagogue. He'd drain every filch he could. And forty percent would vote for him. "You're sure of that?"

  "Absolutely.”

  "How much more can we give to Alredd?"

  "Even through all the avenues you've got, less than three million.”

  "Find out how much. Talk to O'Bannon, and make sure every single credit is absolutely legal. Then tell me what checks to write.”

  "You're throwing the credits away.”

  "No. I want every single credit we send from now on targeted against Dewey's support of whatever Alredd can call filch projects. The guideway legislation, the Southern Diversion, and anything else. Talk to O'Bannon. See if there's a way those ads can be run into Deseret District. If not, have Hansen use the same stuff, pointing out that the Dewey-Cannon conspiracy—call it that—is designed to take Deseret credits and pour them into the Capitol District.”

  "Cannon will still win. Hansen's facing more than an uphill battle.”

  "This time. We have to think more for the long term, my friend. Senators come and go. We'll help Cannon go."

  "Cannon's one you don't want to tangle with, Chris. He'll let a lot slide, but if you attack him, or threaten him, he gets his back up.”

  "Then we don't apply force to him. We apply it to the things and people he cares about.”

  "You don't want to make an enemy of the man, Chris.”

  "Heber… he's already an enemy. The question is what we do about it. And about Dewey.”

  "I don't know that you can do much about Dewey.”

  "I'll have my mother pray for a miracle,” I suggested. "We could use it.”

  "I hope she prays well.” Heber smiled. "Some of her prayers have been answered.” Then, we both knew that we couldn't count on divine intervention. Not without help. "You're staying for the weekend?"

  "No. I'll leave tomorrow. Ruth's sister is hosting a family get-together tomorrow night.”

  "Have a good time.”

  After Heber left, I had some thinking to do. Dewey would ruin KC, just on principle, because he didn't understand economics or business. Some of what he had in mind would undermine the arrangement with the Republic. I had some ideas, but, again, I didn't get far. Mr. O'Bannon is waiting, Mr. Kemal. Send him in.

  O'Bannon slid into the offic
e and eased into the chair he always took at the conference table. He was like a black tiger.

  I sat down across from him. "What's the word?" "Your friends are upset. As you instructed me, I told them that the attack was carried out with obsolete technology. I also pointed out that NorAm orbiter wouldn't have been as vulnerable—"

  "The vulnerability was mostly because the Russeans don't like to cross anyone else's airspace. The Agkhanate had to know that. The Russeans also couldn't track the attackers. They can't retaliate.”

  "Can you?"

  "Why would I want to, James? The attack just shows the problems of dealing with the Russeans.”

  "The Republic might want to.” "They'd get better terms on paper. Not in practice.

  They know that. Their hands are tied. They have to deal with EurCom or NorAm, and they have to let this attack pass. Oh, they could line up a metallic asteroid and accelerate it at Earth. They could build up enough velocity to make its deflection impossible, but they couldn't aim it well enough to hit Kabul. They could destroy civilization and possibly humanity on Earth. That destroys the source of their technology and all their markets. So it's an empty threat. That's why they're helping us. A direct takeover would be viewed as far too unfriendly, but they want MMSystems in more friendly hands.”

  "Hands they can control by threatening exposure,” O'Bannon said.

  "It's not in their interests to expose me, and it's not in mine. Besides, what we're doing is perfectly legal.”

  "Until the NorAm Senate finds out.”

  "Even in cases of continental emergency, ex post facto legislation is banned. That's what my distinguished solicitors told me. Now… what else did they say?"

  "They understand that you are not in a position to do anything about the disaster, but they would like to make the point that once can be accepted, as a necessary evil. Twice will require action.”

  I snorted. "What action? Any direct action hurts the Republic more. They're not stupid.”

  "I agree. That is, however, what they said.” O'Bannon smiled. "What do you want me to tell them?"