Reluctantly, she let Koeln lead her through the maze of impassive people. Her head swiveled. Finally she saw Mace, near his front door, sitting on the floor, arms behind him. He looked angry and bitter and did not look up at her as Koeln guided her outside and down the path to the pedistry.
“I wish he had talked to me yesterday” he said. “This might have been avoided.”
“What’s happening? Is Mace under arrest?”
“It appears that way, yes.”
“For what?”
“I only just arrived. I’m not privy to the charges. I had hoped you might enlighten me.”
“Me? But I don’t—”
He raised a hand sharply, index finger stiffly aimed up. “Not here, not yet.”
Baffled and frightened, she let him guide her to the pedistry and out of the enclave. She glanced back and saw more SA people milling about the entrance to the neighborhood. A large, dark blue transport squatted ominously on the grass nearby
Near the shunt station a smaller vehicle waited, the nose decorated with the PolyCarb emblem.
Koeln ushered her into the car. The hatch sealed quietly and the driver lifted off, heading toward segment one.
“What is going on?” Nemily demanded.
“Mr. Preston is in some trouble with Structural Authority Isn’t that what it looks like to you?”
“Why? And why have you taken me away? Shouldn’t I be under arrest, too?”
“Who says you’re not?”
Nemily stared at him. Koeln reached over to pat her hand, but she jerked it away from him. He blinked, then shrugged.
“There are questions which need answering,” he said. “Simple ones, not difficult at all. You may even know some of the answers. Do you know where Toler is?”
“No. Not now, anyway.”
“Explain that.”
“He—I saw him last night in the Heavy.”
“Where exactly?” When she did not speak, he grabbed her arm tightly. “This is not optional. Answer me or you go back where you came from. Where was he?”
“5555.”
“Reese Nagel’s clutch?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know where he is now?”
“No.”
He released her and leaned back in his seat, staring thoughtfully out the window.
“Nemily do you know who sponsored you?”
“You asked me that the other day. No, I don’t.”
“And no one ever contacted you? You never spoke with your sponsor?”
“No. I told you—”
“And yet I find you this morning at Macefield Preston’s house.”
“What do they have to do with each other?”
“You really don’t know?”
“At this point what would I gain by lying to you? You already believe I’m guilty of something.”
“No, not guilty. No more than the hand is guilty of what the mind directs it to do.”
Nemily realized then that Koeln did know who had sponsored her.
“I thought my InFlux records were confidential.”
“I have a judicial mandate from Structural Authority that grants me certain broad powers. What we’re investigating is more than an internal PolyCarb matter and in such cases exceptions are made. In any event, I have your InFlux jacket. What I found there led me to Mr. Preston. Imagine my surprise then when I discover that he’s seeing you socialiy”
“Why should that be a surprise?”
“Because his wife is listed as your sponsor.”
“But I was told she was dead.”
“Yes. In fact, she died before your sponsorship came through.” He glanced at her.”So you see how this looks.”
“No, I don’t. I met Mace at a party three days ago. Before that I’d never heard of him or his wife. What is it he’s suspected of doing?”
“I don’t know. Mr. Preston, besides running a rather good security firm, traffics in recovered data and storage media, but that’s no distinction, unless he’s suspected of possessing a certain kind of data. I said we were looking into data theft. When I found out about your sponsor, I thought perhaps you were a go-between for Mr. Preston and one of his clients. I doubted it, but you were a possibility. But that curious connection wouldn’t let me drop it. I thought perhaps Mr. Preston had sponsored you. But why would he use his wife’s name on your InFlux jacket and not his own? Besides which, in the event that he was caught at something, that would look even more suspicious, since he might have used a name completely unrelated to him.”
“I never knew his wife.”
“Nor, really, could you have,” Koeln said. “She died on Mars, she was never in Lunase, your paths never crossed. The question is, what purpose could you serve here that someone would import you under an assumed sponsorship?”
“You have my work record, you know what I’ve been doing.”
“And besides some vague work you did for Reese Nagel early on, I have found nothing to indicate that you’re involved with anything illegal or dangerous.”
“Did his wife’s name come up on any other jacket?”
“My mandate is limited, I couldn’t go rummaging through all the files InFlux keeps. But as it turns out, yes, it did.”
“Who?”
“That’s what made this even more interesting. I wondered what possible connection you might have to any of this. If you are a go-between, then the question remained, between whom? You haven’t done anything remotely illegal since you’ve been here, so obviously you were either innocent or you were waiting for something. What might that something be? Then I found the connection. You were waiting for someone. Now he’s here and now SA is interested in Mr. Preston and we are now interested in you.”
“Who was I supposed to be waiting for?”
“Glim Toler, of course. He is the other immigrant sponsored by Helen Croslo. Mr. Preston’s wife.”
Nemily waited the balance of the morning in a small cell in a part of the PolyCarb complex she had never been in before. She was not even sure such a cell was legal, but she could do nothing to challenge it. There was a toilet and a cot, but no commlink, and no one answered her calls through the door.
When someone finally came, it was Koeln, in company with Cambel Guerrera and another woman Nemily did not know Koeln looked preoccupied and waited by the door.
“Ms. Dollard?” Cambel addressed her.
“Yes. You’re Mace’s friend?”
“Cambel Guerrera. We met last night. This is Sonia McCutcheon, an attorney. We’ve come to take you home.”
“Have you talked to Mace?”
“Briefly. Please, save any questions until we’re away from here.”
The attorney opened her case to reveal a complex reader. She raised the screen and inserted two discs.
“Mr. Koeln,” she said. “If you would please enter your ID and acknowledge our writ.”
Linder Koeln frowned and stared at the screen. “I do so under protest, Ms. McCutcheon. This is an ongoing PolyCarb investigation—”
“For which you have no authority to detain anyone unless just cause can be presented to a justice and the appropriate security mandate is issued. You have no such mandate. Ms. Dollard’s release is incumbent upon the proper acknowledgement of authority. This is for your protection and PolyCarb’s. If you refuse to endorse the release, culpability will be assumed and action will be taken against you in court.”
Koeln sighed and slipped his ID chit into another part of the reader. He tapped the keyboard briefly and retrieved his chit.
“There.” He looked at Nemily. “Please make yourself available for questioning, Ms. Dollard. I remind you that you are still an employee of PolyCarb IntraSolar and therefore subject to its rules of full disclosure in a security investigation.” He glared at the attorney. “I do have authority for that.”
“And Ms. Dollard has the right to have an attorney present when you do.” She closed down her reader and snapped the lid shut. “Thank you, Mr. K
oeln. Now if you would please allow Ms. Dollard to accompany us.”
Koeln stood rigidly aside, not looking at any of them. Hesitantly, Nemily approached the door.
“Come on, Ms. Dollard,” Cambel Guerrera said. “We don’t need to be here.”
She was afraid to speak until she had made her way through the maze of the unfamiliar wing and emerged onto the sward of parkland around the complex. Her legs trembled.
“How—” She cleared her throat. “How did you find me?”
“Mace,” Cambel said. “He saw Koeln escorting you out.”
“What about Mace?” Nemily asked.
“It’s being handled,” Cambel said.
“Structural Authority took my augments,” she said. “Is there any way I can get them back?”
Cambel looked at the attorney, who nodded. “We can see about that right now. Ms. Dollard, do you empower me as your personal representative?”
“I—” She glanced at Cambel, who gave a brief nod. “Yes.”
“Let’s go. Do you have the agent’s name who impounded them?”
“Um...Rawls.”
They took the shunt, antispinward, to the Structural Authority complex, nearly a third of the way around from PolyCarb. In a series of brief, quiet encounters with SA officials, Nemily watched the attorney work efficiently through the rituals surrounding her augments. Finally, an officer brought them the case, wrapped in plastic with an identification seal. Nemily had to sign for it, at the direction of a scowling Sonia McCutcheon.
“Anything else?” Sonia McCutcheon asked as they headed for the exit.
“I—” Nemily clutched her augment case tightly, only now allowing herself to feel the desperation its absence had caused her. “I’m just worried about Mace now.”
“He should be out by now,” Cambel said.
Outside the SA judicial building, Sonia McCutcheon sighed deeply. “All right,” she said. “Something to keep in mind. SA wasn’t interested in those augments. It should have been more difficult to get them back if they were actually germane to any investigation. So there are two possibilities. Either SA is entirely concerned with Mr. Preston or they simply didn’t get a chance to look at those augments. Someone didn’t bring attention to them. It happens. Not often, but it happens. You should be prepared to have them impounded again, just in case the error is caught. Or....”
“Koeln told me he had a judicial mandate from SA,” Nemily said.
“Limited. It doesn’t extend to isolating people for interrogation, only gives him access to ongoing reports.”
“He lied to me, then.”
Sonia McCutcheon raised an eyebrow, silent.
“So,” Nemily went on, “he can’t come and arrest me?”
“No.”
“Can you make yourself available on call for the next few days?” Cambel asked.
Sonia McCutcheon raised her eyebrows. “That can get expensive.”
“I understand that. Can you?”
“I don’t see why not. I can shift anything else over to one of my associates. Consider me available.”
“Fine. I’ll be in touch.”
Somehow, Nemily felt more vulnerable as the attorney walked away. She held her augment case tightly and looked at Cambel.
“Why?”
“Because Mace asked. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Back to his dom. He wanted us to wait there for him.”
Cambel pressed the mici and stepped back, waiting. After a few seconds’ silence, she began to frown. The door opened then and Mace peered out at them, his expression impassive. He waved them in.
“Something wrong with Helen?” Cambel asked.
“My system’s been locked down and tapped,” Mace said. “I’ve taken it offline till I can get a judicial injunction to lift the surveillance.”
“Can we talk here?” Cambel asked.
He waved them back into his kitchen. Oil crackled delicately in a pan. Mace went about methodically breaking eggs and slicing sausage. He worked silently, still wearing the same loose sweats that he had been arrested in. Nemily did not know him well enough to read his moods, a skill with which she felt inadequate anyway, but it seemed to her that he was more thoughtful than angry. She glanced at Cambel for some direction. The other woman only shook her head minutely and sat down at the counter.
Mace scooped up platefuls for each of them and poured himself and Cambel coffee. He raised a mug questioningly for Nemily, who nodded, and he poured her a cup.
“I’ve got us shielded in here,” Mace said. “For the time being. We can talk. If I do the whole dom, they’ll just be back.”
All this took place in a sepulchral stillness, broken only by the small sounds of Mace’s cooking. Nemily took a bite of egg, then dropped her fork noisily
“Should I apologize?” she asked.
Mace looked up. “For what?”
“Getting you involved in something unpleasant.”
“How did you do that?” Cambel asked.
“It was my idea to go to the Heavy last night, to Reese’s.”
“I wasn’t aware,” Mace said, “that being seen in the Heavy constituted a civil infraction.”
“This involves Toler. You were with me, he was there, this morning Structural Authority and PolyCarb security are here.”
“Toler. When did his name come up?”
“Koeln asked me about him.”
“Really,” Mace said.
“I see what she means,” Cambel said. “You think they suspect you of being involved with Toler. Therefore anyone you’re seen with must also be involved.”
“Yes,” Nemily said.
“Is that the way it works in Lunase?”
“I’m—”
“If that’s the case,” Mace said, “then you would have been the primary target of the arrest. So why would Koeln want to remove you from SA custody? For that matter, why would SA just turn you over to Koeln on his request?”
Cambel nodded. “They arrested Mace. You just happened to be here.”
“Did they arrest you?” Mace asked Cambel.
“No. They questioned me, but I had already arranged for an attorney. I don’t know that they would have refrained from arresting me in any case if I’d been a primary”
“So,” Mace said, “the question is, why did Koeln extricate you from SA?”
“He’s looking for Toler. He said it was related to a data theft investigation.”
“So?” Cambel said. “Wouldn’t it have been better to leave you in SA custody? He could easily have gotten interrogation privileges.”
“Unless,” Mace said, “he didn’t want SA knowing anything about his investigation.” He shrugged. “Corporate politics.”
“This sounds as if you don’t think any of this concerned me.”
“Does that disappoint you?” Cambel asked.
“No, but—”
Mace set his fork onto his empty plate and took a swallow of coffee. “Koeln is interested in Toler, not me, and you seem to be his link to Toler. SA is also interested in Toler. They’re not interested in you, but I’m their link to Toler. At least, they think I am. I don’t know why, but the two investigations have one common factor: Glim Toler.”
Nemily chewed her lip. She wanted to ask about Helen, Mace’s wife, but she was reluctant in front of Cambel.
“For a fact?” Cambel asked.
“They asked only once if I knew Glim Toler. If he hadn’t already come up through Koeln, I might have thought the question was only peripherally important.”
“What did they ask about?” Nemily asked.
“Midline.”
“The orbital?” Nemily asked.
Cambel cocked her head to one side. “I don’t follow.”
“Cassidy. Five-Eight. Now Midline.”
Cambel stared at him, her face suddenly paler. “When?”
“I’m not sure. Sometime in the last ten days.”
“I don’t understand,” Nemily sai
d.
“Do you know about what happened to Cassidy and Five-Eight?” Cambel asked. “The transfer stations—”
“They failed,” Nemily said. “Catastrophically Abandoned.”
“They broke apart,” Cambel snapped. “Dissolved. All the binding materials gave out and the shells just... opened up...”
“Dissolved,” Mace mused. “Like the molifiber at Hellas Planitia.”
“The thought occurred to me, too,” Cambel said. “But the kind of solvent—”
“We saw more last night,” Mace said. “Didn’t we?”
Cambel frowned. “You mean those pirated transmissions from Earth Reese showed? You think—?”
“Philip said there has been a plague of data destruction on Earth. His sources suggest that whole libraries, whole institutions are disintegrating. Physically. We saw something close to what might have happened to those stations.” He shrugged. “It’s a stretch. It would mean someone was in touch with forces on Earth.”
“That’s not that much of a stretch,” Cambel said. “Philip gets data upwell and he’s relatively small. But—why Midline?”
“That’s a very interesting question. Cavery was on Midline. He’d just received a change of status, in fact, which locked him into his position there for at least another year.”
“So Cavery’s dead. Who does that leave?”
“Oxmire. He’s out at Titan.”
Cambel blew out a loud breath. “This has gotten very complicated.”
“Gotten? It always was.”
“Yes, but things never seem complicated until they start to make a little bit of sense. When nothing makes sense, it’s just overwhelming, not complicated.”
Mace smiled. “Interesting way to look at it.”
“So how does Glim Toler fit into this? And Nemily here?”
“I don’t know. I had Helen doing a search for him when all this broke. She hadn’t reported anything yet. PolyCarb is asking about Toler. Toler is here. Toler knows Nemily, evidently knows Reese or one of Reese’s associates. Reese shows us a display he’s gotten from a forgotten Earth satellite. And Midline has collapsed.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“It might help to know if Toler has been to Midline,” Cambel said.
“Or Cassidy and Five-Eight.” He frowned suddenly. “Or Hellas Planitia.”
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