“The big ones carry the raw syrup. The little ones carry all kinds of stuff. Trace elements, chemicals, antibiotics.” Renny shrugged. “Ask Lydia. She’s the one who plays with all this shit.”
“They were skirting the main floor of the vast building now. Sunshine filtered through wide strips of translucent plastic in the black fabric roof, filling the space with soft light. Huge tanks stood in rows; round, silver, domed with clear plastic. Nita caught a whiff of citrus on the heavy air as she climbed a metal stairway after Renny. From up here she could look down into the nearest tank. Thick yellow sludge filled the tank, scummed with an oily layer of clear liquid. Like fat on a pot of meat soup, Nita thought. She wondered what it was, feeling slightly revolted. She’d eat beans any day, thank you.
Renny waited for her on the narrow walkway that ringed the factory, radiating fatigue, pain, and irritable impatience. Without a word, she pushed open one of the doors that lined the walkway. It opened into a small office. The color struck Nita first; every square inch of wall space was covered with pictures of flowers, some old, some bright and new, holos and what looked like the pages from old magazines. Rachel cooed with delight. The rainbow of colors overwhelmed Nita. She recognized a few of them from the dusty hills above the valley — yarrow, desert parsley, and fleabane. David had told her the names of the plants as they hunted bees together. Real flowers even grew beneath a small, shaded light tube. Petals like the wings of a butterfly unfolded above crystal dishes of pale golden jelly.
“Well, well. And when did you wander in?” A small woman stood up from her seat in front of a large, flat-screen. “Renny, you should have told me you were coming. My God, what happened to you this time? Hijackers?” She walked into Renny’s embrace, careful of the trucker’s bandaged arm.
She looked as if she was maybe in her thirties, with a thick mane of carefully cut short hair so blonde that it looked white. Her skin was paler than any skin Nita had ever seen, and her eyes were a vivid lavender as she turned to smile at Nita. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Lydia.”
Nita took her hand, surprised at the strength in the petite woman’s long fingers. “I’m Nita.” She felt awkward and grimy and out of place.
“Nita needs some answers, so I brought her to you. I think I’m going to go crawl into your bed and sleep,” Renny said. “I’m feeling a little frayed.”
“You look like hell.” Concern flickered in Lydia’s eyes, and she kept her arm around the trucker’s waist. “You all right? You going to tell me what happened?”
“Yes, I’ll live, and later. I’m just ready for some rest.”
“So go rest,” Lydia snapped. “I haven’t changed my door code. Refrigerator’s full and there’s good scotch in the top cupboard. Nita can tell me what she wants.”
Renny laughed suddenly, disengaged herself from Lydia’s arm with surprising gentleness. “Yes, ma’am.” She gave Nita a lopsided smile. “She’ll get you everything you need, babe.” The door closed behind her.
“Damn that woman.” Lydia let her breath out sharply. “I don’t suppose you’re her lover, are you?” She raised a pale eyebrow at Nita.
“No. I’m . . . not.” Nita felt her face heating. Jealousy? No, that wasn’t what she was feeling.
“Too bad. She’s such a bloody loner.” Lydia lifted her shoulders in a jerky shrug. “So. What is it that Renny thinks I can do for you?”
“Renny said you were good at finding . . . information.”
“Yes, I am. Spill it.” Lydia perched herself on the edge of her terminal console, one foot flicking in the air like a cat’s tail.
Worrying about Renny. “I need proof that someone is putting in new fields in the Valley. I need to know who’s doing it. Renny thought you could find out for me.” She held her breath.
“Is that all?” Lydia hopped down and dropped into her chair. “Honey, that should be no problem. It’s in the public domain — field permits. Didn’t you know that?” Her long fingers danced across her keyboard and one quadrant of her big flat-sceen flickered.
Rachel was kicking, fussing a little. She wanted to get down. Nita shrugged her pack off her shoulder, took the quilt out, and spread it on the floor. Rachel wanted the flower pictures. Her frustration flared like heat lightning as she rocked onto her hands and knees. One hand moved, then a knee. With a frustrated screech, she flopped onto her face, but she was closer to the bright wall.
“Kid, you just crawled.” Nita laughed softly. “All you need is practice now.”
Rachel rocked to her knees again, made it two crawling steps closer to a picture of a yellow trumpet-shaped blossom. Her chin banged the bare floor this time and she started to cry, angry more than hurt.
“It’s all right, all right.” Nita picked her up. Her daughter’s body felt tense, rigid with her effort. Hers was a hot, pure emotion, simple and direct. I want! Nita held Rachel close to the wall, smiling at her gurgling pleasure. Did any flowers grow in the camp they had passed? “You won’t grow up there,” she whispered to her daughter. “I promise.”
“This is turning out to be more fun than I expected.” Lydia spoke up. “Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to misfile permit applications in some very creative ways.”
Lydia was pleased. Nita leaned over her shoulder, but the jumble of letters and numbers on the screen meant nothing to her.
“Apparently a new company is behind the applications. The interesting thing is that this particular company — AgriCo — is owned by a dummy corporation. The majority stockholders are keeping a low profile.”
“Does that mean you can’t get the information?”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Lydia sniffed. “What it means is that I have to sneak into some very tight stock exchange files and find out who really holds the reins here.” She hummed to herself. “Whoever did the hiding was good,” she said after awhile. “I bet it was Rico. It’s his style . . . although if it is Rico, he’s getting just a wee bit careless in his old age.” A second quadrant of the big screen flickered.
“What do you do here?” Nita asked, fascinated.
“Record keeping, inventory, formula integrations, payroll. Drudge work.” Lydia grimaced. “But Pacific Bio has bucks for tech, so I have state of the art hardware and software and they don’t bother me when I upgrade. Can’t ask for more than that. Aha!” Her fingers pounced and the screen flashed a column of numbers and letters. “It was Rico. Someday I’ll tell him about the hole he always leaves in his security jobs. Maybe. Your permits are burning now. I’ll have the CD for you in a moment and the hardcopy’s in the laser tray,” she said absently. “They’re all to AgriCo but in a minute . . .” She hissed softly, tapped more keys. “In a minute you’ll have the rest of what you need to link AgriCo to your mystery shareholders. There are only two real ones. The others are ghosts.” She lifted her hands from the keyboard and spun her wheeled stool around. “It’s all yours, honey. Got anything else I can play with? That was fun.”
“I don’t think so.” White sheets were sliding silently out into the tray, a squat plastic box, settling delicately into a wire tray. Nita lifted the top sheet.
“Your mystery duo went to a lot of trouble to hide. Smart of them to hire Rico, but they should have hired me.” Lydia smiled, full of satisfaction. “It wasn’t nearly as much of a challenge as I’d hoped. Rico must have been having a bad day.”
“I’m not sure I understand this.” Nita looked at the sheets. Some of them seemed to be copies of legal documents; others were lists of dates and dollar amounts.
“It’s all there — records of stock transfers to the dummies, sub-corporations, the whole messy electronic trail. Those are your men.” She pointed. “The names on line one. I’m a little surprised. I know Pacific Bio’s been trying to lever the general’s ass for years, but I thought he was cold steel legal.”
Nita stared at the paper, her skin flushing hot and cold. William Hastings. That was the first name. Carter’s boss — which put him squarely in the middle.
But it was the second name that shook her.
Dan Greely.
“You’re wrong,” Nita said, and flinched with the hot flash of Lydia’s reaction. “I didn’t mean it like that. Renny said you were the best.”
“I am, at that. Nice that she noticed.” Lydia’s anger eased. “I’m not wrong, honey, I’m sorry. What happened to Renny’s arm, by the way? If I know her, she won’t tell me.”
“Someone shot at us. Because we were coming here to get this.” Nita shook the papers gently. “Lydia . . . I know that Dan Greely isn’t involved with this.” She looked at the woman’s strange eyes. “Is there any way that this might have been faked? To fool someone like you?”
“Honey, I trust my information a hell of a lot more than I trust your intuition.” Lydia crossed her arms, her eyes hooded. “I’m sorry your friend is twisted, but it happens. People lie all the time. Yes, someone could have gone to a whole lot of trouble to fake this, but I doubt it.”
She was worried about Renny and offended, too. “You’re the best,” Nita said desperately. “Maybe whoever did it wanted to make sure that they could fool even the best. Will you see if there’s anything else?”
Lydia shook her head. “I would have spotted something.”
“Someone’s going to laugh if you’re wrong.”
“Let them.” Lydia raised one eyebrow. “If they’re able to fool me they’re entitled to laugh.” She stood. “I’m going to go check on Renny.”
“She’s asleep.” Nita stepped in front of her. “I know she is. The same way I know Dan Greely isn’t in on it.” She sucked in a breath, feeling as if there wasn’t enough air in the room. “I can read minds. Sort of. That’s how I know Renny is asleep. And Dan didn’t do this. The information is a trick.” She ran out words, lightheaded.
Lydia was staring at her, eyes thoughtful, her surprise will hidden behind the calm mask of her face. “So how do you sort of read minds?”
“I . . . hear emotions. Not words or anything . . . not thoughts. But I know when someone’s . . . lying.”
“You could be lying.” Lydia laughed suddenly. “But I rather think you’d do a better job of being convincing if you were. I don’t think I’ll ask you to prove it.” Lydia tilted her head, considering. “Some truths I don’t think I want to know. Or the lies either.”
She was thinking of Renny. And she believed her. Nita felt dizzy with reaction. She had considered, doubted, and made her decision. Just like that. Nita swallowed the lump in her throat. “Will you do it? Find out what’s going on here?”
“Yeah, I’ll go look again.” Lydia frowned at her flowered wall. “I wish you were her lover,” she said quietly. “That’s about what it would take, to live with Renny. A mind reader. She needs . . . to care about someone enough to be careful. One of these days she’s not going to come back.”
Love? Yes. And anticipation of that day.
“She cares about you,” Nita blurted.
“I know.” Lydia’s eyebrows rose above her strange eyes. “She does, but I’m no empath. She pisses me off when she won’t tell me stuff, and I let it show, and she snarls at me, and we fight. I hate trucking and Renny goes nuts cooped up here.” She laughed. “But other than that we love each other.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. Sometimes.” Lydia shrugged and went to stand in front of her lights. “This is a cymbidium.” She picked up the buttery flower. “One of the techs cloned it for me. The original plant came from old-time Hawaii. This one is a ladyslipper, from a swamp that dried up decades ago. The cells come from the international germ plasm bank in northern China.”
Lydia’s flowers grew from frozen bits of the past. She would understand Jeremy. Nita watched Lydia replace the delicate blooms beneath the light. Renny didn’t talk about the past. She only looked ahead, at the road in front of her. Nita touched Lydia’s arm lightly. “Do you have a med kit or something?” she asked. “Renny just woke up and her arm was bleeding when she went to lie down. Her kit is locked in the truck.”
“I’ll get you what you need. If you can get Renny to let you do anything about it, you’re ahead of me.” Lydia sighed. “She’s so damn macho.”
They clattered down the stairs, past the vat of yellow sludge. “What is that?” Nita grimaced.
“Corn cells. They’re engineered to produce large amounts of oil. The pressed cells go into the new fake meat.”
“I see.” She’d definitely stick with beans.
Lydia took Nita to the company infirmary. The bright, clean room, crammed with a cupboards and equipment was empty. “Where is everyone?” Nita asked.
“It’s all automated. You’ve got a few maintenance people and Security. This is from when we had more workers.” Lydia collected a roll of gauze, tape, and sterile pads from various drawers. “What antibiotic is she on?”
“I don’t know the name. White tablets?”
“Like this?” Lydia opened a bottle, tipped two tablets into her palm.
“I think so.”
“You’re probably right. It’s one of the new ones that still work. It’s what she brings in with her ‘office supplies.’ Too bad I can’t have the doc look at her, but company policy is very very tight on that score.”
“Won’t you get in trouble for taking this stuff?” Nita looked up at the dark eye on a video camera. She’d noticed them in every corner. “Won’t they see?”
“Relax.” Lydia followed her gaze. “These are all digital pickups. I ran a handy little pre-edited segment before we came down here. We’ve got four and a half more minutes before Security sees anything but an empty plant.” She ushered Nita into the corridor. “I’ll check this situation again for you. I thought Rico was a little careless. Maybe he was careless on purpose.” She smiled a little sadly, her lavender gaze on Nita’s face. “I don’t envy you, honey. I don’t envy you at all. Go talk Renny into taking care of herself, will you? I’ll go see if Rico was being cute.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
You have screwed up in every possible way in this command.” Hands clasped behind his back, General Hastings paced across Carter’s small bedroom. “You had no business letting Roscoe leave the Shunt, and your negligence cost us the lives of six soldiers.” He spun around, his finger stabbing at Carter, face as hard as carved stone. “I will personally see that you get busted for this, mister.”
“Sir.” Carter forced the word through tight lips. Whether or not Hastings had anything to do with this, he was right. He remembered the feel of the private’s coverall as the flood slammed them down the riverbed. He had clutched it in his dreams, coming out of surgery, had waked with bloody nailmarks on his palms. “Sir?” He pushed himself higher on the pillows, sucking in a breath as his broken ribs stabbed him. “I had a reason for what I did. With all due respect, sir . . .”
“Cut the formal crap, Voltaire.”
“All right, I will.” Hell, he was screwed anyway. “We need to find out who’s behind this.” Or do you want to, General? “It’s an outside setup, sir. I’m sure of it. And they have someone on the base.” He struggled higher in bed, fighting the buzz of the doctor’s painkillers, watching Hasting’s face. “Someone is trying to start a shooting war between the Corps and the locals and yes, the locals are playing right into it, but they’re not behind it. If we could have caught those snipers yesterday, we’d have found our connection. Sir.” He clenched his teeth as the room wavered in front of his eyes. “I made a bad judgment call yesterday, but we were set up. They know where and when we’d show up, right down to the last detail, sir. I’m trying to stop this war from happening.”
“Are you?” Hasting’s tone was icy. “I think everyone realizes that someone is tipping off the terrorists about patrol schedules. And that ambush yesterday.”
“Yes, sir.” Carter drew a shallow, careful breath. “I suspect it’s Major Delgado, sir.”
“The major has been reporting directly to me.” Hastings’s eyes pinned Carter. “On my orders. He’s
been here as long as I have, and I trust him. I have my own theories about who is the leak around here. I’ve been keeping a close watch on your local connections. You and Greely are in on this together, Voltaire. It’s pretty damned obvious.”
Carter stared at Hastings, stunned. If anything, this confirmed his suspicions about the general. Johnny had been right. “I’ve dealt with the local leaders,” he said tightly. “But I’ve never betrayed the Corps. Sir.” Unlike you, you bastard, he thought.
“We’re going to look into that.” Hastings’s expression didn’t change. “Do I make myself clear, Colonel?”
“Yes, sir,” Carter said between his teeth.
“What action I decide to take will depend on my investigation here. Meanwhile, the situation calls for drastic measures, and I’m going to take them.” His gray eyes glittered. “These local troublemakers got away with it last time they acted up. Water Policy was soft and it wouldn’t endorse emergency measures, but it’s not so soft this time around. This time I put these terrorists in their place. After this we’ll get a whole lot more cooperation around here.”
Revenge, Carter thought. For his son. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to shut this stretch of riverbed dry, from the Klamath Shunt to the Willamette Shunt. Not one drop of water beyond the federal minimum goes through the meters. “
Which meant cutting it to the Personal Maintenance Allowance, the minimum share of water guaranteed to each citizen served by a federal water system. That wouldn’t give people around here enough water to keep kitchen crops alive, or do anything except survive. “You can’t do that.” Carter couldn’t stop himself. “General, that’s going to start the war for sure.”
“It already started. I’ve been granted full emergency powers by Water Policy. They’re scared that a big water loss will short Mexico and give Canada a reason to kick over the traces. Ask your buddy.” His lip curled. “I’ve been authorized to take whatever measures are needed to keep the southern share up to maximum. It comes right out of the share here —every drop. The break should be repaired by tomorrow, but the Willamette and Sacramento systems have lost over twenty-four hours of flow. If we divert everything over the calculated minimum down the shunts, we can minimize crop losses in the valleys and keep Mexico’s share constant. It’ll teach these terrorists a lesson they won’t forget for a long time.”
Water Rites Page 33