"I don't know. I don't want people to know, or to think that I might be involved with the senator. I only talked to him once, and that was because I was the hired help at a soiree.”
"I'm only asking,” he said quietly. "I wouldn't even put your name or your gender in the background story—just a mention of a key technical and advertising support person who was also targeted, but escaped.”
I felt uneasy about that, but I'd have felt uneasy about saying no, too. "Just so you keep my name and direct background out of it.” I flipped back my hair, and then felt nervous about that as well.
"I promise.” He smiled, warmly, and it wasn't all professional. "If I don't get back to NetPrime, my boss will have my skin.” He inclined his head. "It was good to meet you in person, Professor, and I'm very glad that you're safe. Please take care.”
"I will.” What else could I say?
As Jude Parsfal walked away, Sarao grinned at me. "He likes you. I've never seen a newsie bend over that way to protect someone. He's sticking his neck out to keep you out of it.”
"I wouldn't know.” I didn't, but it did seem strange that a newsie I'd talked to once would double-check on me while the people I worked with were trying to get rid of me and my job merely because I'd spoken my mind.
Chapter 47
Kemal
Friday night, after dinner, I was standing on the balcony of the family retreat in Aspen. I was looking toward the twilight-shrouded and early-leafing trees. On those slopes, centuries before, there had been skiers carving their way downhill through a much colder spring.
"What are you thinking, Chris?" Marissa slipped up beside me.
"Oh… not much. It's good to get away from Denv at times.” There were so many details, and so few people who seemed to understand that multilaterals and families had few differences. Discipline and love—those were what held both together.
"You don't mind being here?"
"I'm happy to be here with you.” And I was. Marissa was more than any man deserved, and she'd always stood by me, and never tried to manage the business side of things.
There is an urgent call from James O'Bannon.
Marissa looked at me. She could sense the link. "Do you have to take it?"
"I'll be quick.”
She kissed me on the cheek. "I'll wait here.”
I walked into the small study and flipped on the holo display. I wanted to say that it had better be important. I didn't have to. O'Bannon knew better.
O'Bannon's image filled the small study. He wasn't laughing. "I just got a call from Jakob Flemmerfeld. Brazelton was arrested and put in custody by Lieutenant Chiang just a few hours ago.”
"Not nanite restraint? No house arrest?" That was bad. Very bad.
"Actually, Brazelton is under maximum security. He's also accepted a plea bargain, against Flemmerfeld's advice.”
"What are the terms of the plea bargain?"
"For him to reveal what he knows about you. It's more elegant than that, but they're coming after you, Chris.”
"Start doing what you can.”
"We already have.” He looked hard at me. "You might think of taking a trip. Off Earth.”
"That would show guilt. What am I guilty of? Building a heritage for my family? Trying to revitalize businesses that were crashing? Creating jobs and better transport systems?"
O'Bannon nodded. "I'll keep close to the matter. Nothing will happen soon.”
I had my doubts about that. But I smiled. "That's the way it is.” I shrugged.
After O'Bannon broke the connection, I glanced toward the door. Then I smiled. Marissa was waiting, and there wasn't much else I could do. Not at the moment.
Everyone would be waiting, watching, hoping to push me into doing something reactive and stupid. That was the last thing I should be doing.
I opened the study door and walked toward the balcony, Marissa, and the waiting evening.
Chapter 48
Logic and rationality are like three-edged blades, and two of the blades wound the user more than the third wounds the enemy or benefits the user.
The so-called rational analytical approach embodies a fundamental flaw, a flaw that has consistently and historically either been ignored by both rationalists and scholars or minimized. This flaw is the assumption that matters, feelings, or occurrences that cannot be described rationally or quantified objectively are of such little significance that they will not affect the outcome of the analysis. Further, such "non-rational" feelings or occurrences are all too often termed "irrational" and thus dismissed as beneath consideration.
In attempting to evaluate all too many human situations, in practical terms, there is indeed a difficulty. How does one quantify love or hatred, exaltation or depression, patriotism, or beauty? How can one present any of these "objectively"? How can one weigh the impact upon human conduct? Upon economic or political behavior?
The problem is merely made worse by the rationalists who dismiss those who cannot present then-case or argument objectively and rationally. Failure to present a case in rational terms does not mean that the case does not exist; it only means that either the presenter cannot provide a logical format or that the case is not susceptible to logical presentation. By insisting on an objectively rational case, the rationalists impose what can best be called "the tyranny of logic.”
Solicitors and attorneys at law have historically been the leading tyrants of logic. We have seen through the ages how totally unjust, unmerciful, and irrational laws and judicial decisions have been reached through pure logic and rationality.
Moreover, the tyrants of logic question the value of the so-called irrational. Of what use is great art? Beautiful music? Inspiring architecture?
In point of fact, any decision—indeed, any organization or culture—which does not incorporate emotion, passion, and other so-called irrational factors will in the long run fail, because the absolute reliance upon quantified facts and pure logic reduces the intelligence of the decisions of that culture. The evidence of history demonstrates that few strong societies have existed transgenerationally without an internal culture embodying irrational elements such as love, beauty, art, and music.
Yet, from the centuries preceding the first Collapse through the present, supposedly intelligent men and women have striven to ensure that the decisions that they make are grounded in absolutely quantified facts and pure rational logic…
Exton Land From "The Importance of Irrationality" Etymology Quarterly, June, a. d. 2364
Chapter 49
Kemal
Marissa and I woke around nine. We decided to eat breakfast on the enclosed sun porch. The morning sun there warmed the room. The miniature lemon trees along the east wall gave the room a moist and fragrant feel.
Marissa set down her coffee. "You didn't sleep that well. Are you sure you're all right?"
"There are some loose ends…”
"I heard about Entile Brazelton's arrest. It's on all the news nets. Some of them are saying that it's tied to your takeover of MMSystems.”
"I'm sure it is. They don't want me to have the company.” I laughed. "That's clear enough. They'd charge me with anything from child abuse to murder if they thought it would keep me from taking over. That's why O'Bannon called last night. I told him to get ready for the worst.”
"I thought it might be something like that.” Her hand reached across the table and squeezed mine. "It's going to be bad, isn't it?"
"Yes. I didn't want to bother you with it. I just wanted to enjoy the weekend.” I had wanted that, and I'd enjoyed the evening with Marissa. We hadn't had too many evenings like that in the past months. There would be few ahead either, I feared.
Marissa turned. Fred had knocked on the door frame.
"Mr. Kemal? There's a Mr. Massin for you. He said it was important.”
Marissa raised her eyebrows.
"I'll try to make this quick.” I'd said that the night before, but nothing was likely to be quick in the days and weeks ah
ead.
I nodded to Fred. "Show him to the study.” Ashtay probably had bad news as well, especially if he'd traveled from Denv to find me. I took a last sip of coffee, then rose from the small table.
I smiled at Marissa. "Don't leave. I'll be back.”
"I'll be here, dear.”
I'd been so lucky with her. She was beauty itself, and I'd never forgotten that, not over all the years. With a smile, I walked to the study.
Ashtay was standing beside the bookcase that held the leather-bound pre-Collapse books that few knew my father had collected over his lifetime.
"Good morning, Mr. Kemal.”
I closed the door, and then eased behind the desk, where the screens there would protect me from anything short of ultra-ex. "Good morning, Ashtay. I imagine it must be important for you to come all this way on a weekend. What is it?"
Ashtay turned. "You should know. I'm not Ashtay. I talk like him. I look like him. I'll register as him.”
I studied the man who said he wasn't Ashtay. He registered as human, but he could have been a clone. The scanners didn't show any weapons. "What do you want?"
"To tell you that the game is over. The risk has become too high for the Republic. The agreement is terminated. Your family will be safe.”
"What—"
Blinding white flared from Ashtay. I tried to drop behind the desk, but the whiteness flared through the screens. Then… blackness…
Chapter 50
Chiang
I had duty on Saturday. Used the monitors to check on Brazelton every hour. Sometimes more often. He was safe, healthy, bored. Scanned the news nets. Nothing more than what Parsfal had gathered on Friday. Speculation, but no new facts. Agkhanate claimed that the Martian Republic had staged the attack on the orbiter itself. The Republic denied it, claimed that the Agkhanate was trying to escape its own guilt.
With a flash and an urgent warning, the advance summary report arrived on my console at eleven hundred. I read it twice. The important words were simple.
* * * *
… explosion at private retreat of Christopher Kemal… ultra-ex suspected… Only casualties… Kemal and unidentified male… no GIL identification on record for unidentified male… preliminary gene screen indicates probable clone…
* * * *
I read through the report and checked a few more things. Then I got ready to link to the captain. She wasn't going to be pleased.
On Friday night, we had a clear path to Kemal. By Saturday, all we had was Brazelton. Brazelton didn't know anything more than what he'd done. He'd worked directly for Kemal. No other links. No proof, and with the privacy laws we had nothing.
I used the priority code to link with Cannizaro.
Captain, this is Lieutenant Chiang. Urgent override.
What is it?
Kemal's dead. Part of his Aspen place was blown up. He was in that part. DPS checked out all access to Aspen. Limited. Filch-expensive limited. DPS there found two bodies in the debris. Kemal's and an unidentified male with no GIL ID. Kemal's wife swears he was in his study. Upset and then some, according to the report. Only craft that couldn't be tracked was a private orbital shuttle—registered to EraseCo. Out of Nauru. Registration was false. No such craft, no such registration.
We've got Brazelton, and nothing else, then?
That's the way I see it. Clear that Kemal was fronting for the Martian Republic. They saw what was coming and removed him. No ID on the killer. Bet it was a clone loaded with non-reflective ultra-ex, but can't prove that, either. Privacy laws mean we can't trace back. So we can report that Brazelton claims he was hired by someone else, but that someone is dead. Means that no one will know the details. No hard proof.
That will satisfy Kugeler… mostly. His clients don't care so much about a Justiciary verdict as a clearing of their parents. Even over the link, Cannizaro didn't sound displeased.
Doesn't bother you, Captain?
Not much. With the Russean arbiter mess, both the PDF and the NorAm Senate will be happy that the Martian Republic isn't dragged into the headlines again. Everyone knows Kemal was a bad actor, and he's gone.
Oh… and one thing more. Les Kerras was murdered. Simple poison that mimics a heart attack. Kirchner is, investigating how he ingested it, but we probably won't find out. I paused. Lot of bodies for no real solutions, Captain.
But these actors won't try it again. The Senate will be watching for another Martian takeover, and Kemal's empire will fragment. We'll talk about it Monday. In a week, almost everyone will have forgotten.
I wondered about that.
Those were my orders. I sat there and began to go through all the dispatches and records I'd neglected. Just went through the motions—until I came to the CDC document. Not even a response to our request. Just a report that had come in with all their other drek. Read over it. Bottom line was that the combination of exposure to heavy amounts of resonance music and "soop" selectively overstimulated the heart muscle in certain individuals with specific genetic profiles. Such overstimulation led to fibrillation and then heart failure. Rezrap also could cause depression in certain genetically susceptible individuals and was heightened by alcohol.
Just a report. Slipped back to us.
Couldn't help mumbling. "Didn't even give us credit.” I wouldn't even get reimbursed for the rez stuff I'd bought and sent to CDC.
Wondered who'd actually won in the whole mess. DPS escaped without a disaster, but wouldn't have called it a victory. McCall's wife had probably been tipped off to the alkie-rezrap connection for suicides by the Cewrigh woman. She'd told McCall. McCall had let that slip in some way, or even brought it up. Kemal had removed McCall's wife and tried to frame McCall, and then set up the suicide as a double insulation. Kemal hadn't wanted anyone to look into his dealings. Not with the MMSystems deal in the works. So the McCalls had been expendable, and no one really cared except their children.
NorAm Senate avoided embarrassment. So did Kemal's family. The rezrap would go on. There would be warnings, but kids would still die. CDC would point out it was a small percentage. Filch parents would screen their kids. The others would take their chances. Kemal's "heirs" would keep making credits on alkie and ignore the suicides and ODs. So would the soop makers, and trendside would keep score.
Sat there, thinking.
For a moment, had an image of the professor—true beauty. Laughed. I'd seen Parsfal's face. Never seen a newsie that worried.
Latest crisis was over. I'd have to get back to everyday trends.
… and I still owed Kama that game of chess.
Chapter 51
Cannon
At nine-forty on Monday morning, Ransom Loftier stalked into my office, barely behind Ciella's quick link.
Senator Lottler—he looks stern.
I smiled as long as the door was open. I didn't sit in front of the desk, but settled behind it. There were times to be a sheep, and times to be a bullheaded ram. I did activate the privacy screen.
He still wore the ancient-style pin-striped suit, but the mild accountant had vanished. The soft voice hadn't.
"I had thought you had more sense, Elden. A subpoena for economic security? Where did you come up with that idea? The leadership…”
I just grinned. There wasn't much else I could do. Besides, I knew it would irritate him.
"Go ahead and grin… Never have I seen anything more high-handed. You know that continental defense security takes precedence over everything. Economic security… what's that?"
"Ranse… let's look at this rationally. You can either support me, or you can oppose me. If you oppose me, I'll have to point out that you knew this more than a week ago and that you did nothing. I'll even go under truth nanites.”
"You would… you actually would, you goody-goody. What are you going to do when the Martian Republic threatens that embargo?"
"They won't. You can issue that subpoena for all the records of NNB and for the ownership of MMSystems. It wouldn't be a good idea, I ad
mit. Not now, but you could, and you could suggest that to the Executive and to the appropriate individuals in the Republic's government. I don't think they'd want that information public.”
"You have an answer for everything…”
"And,” I went on, "you can also point out that the new fusion drive for the space tug still happens to belong to MMSystems, which is a NorAm business. You might suggest that we're happy to cooperate, and that in return we'll overlook their heavy-handed attempts to steal Earth technology.”
Lottler laughed. "You're not going to do anything?"
"Not a thing more.” I'd done what I'd had to, and I'd been fortunate. Others hadn't been, and someday I wouldn't be. But, for now, I had been.
Lottler's laugh faded. "You won't always be lucky.”
"None of us are.”
"See you on the floor. By the way, Marge liked your amendment on music. I even voted for the bill when it came up.”
He probably had. I hadn't checked.
"This afternoon.” I did stand and see him out.
Then I went back to the office and checked over the committee business for the morning.
For all the infighting, for all the threats, veiled and not so veiled, there was still a beauty in politics—because it worked. It worked better than violence, and better than anarchy, even if it did verge at times on chaos. And I was good at it.
Even the professor would see that.
Chapter 52
Cornett
At dinner on Saturday night, Raymon had listened to my story about the conapt systems. I wasn't sure he really believed me, even after the news reports about Christopher Kemal's death in an explosion. I wouldn't have believed me. After all, why would someone that powerful want to kill an unknown music professor?
By Monday, the whole business still seemed unreal. Whether it was unreal or not, I still had to make a living, especially while I could. So I took the shuttle in and taught Abdullah. He had a good lesson, as usual.
After he left, I spent some time in the office, reorganizing my sheet music. Then I went to the library and continued my almost-vain search for lost art songs. I didn't find anything new, but I did find an ancient copy of "Silent Noon"—a Rossetti sonnet put to music by R. Vaughan Williams. I already had a much newer copy, but finding that confirmed my desire to keep plowing through the material the library was going to discard.
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