“Nothing more?"
“Not at this time, Alex."
* * *
Chapter XII
Shan had gone to Nucanda to get more information on Mando Washton and returned to New London with far more than he had thought he would get. There had been a price exacted for his further enlightenment, but, all in all, it wasn't such a bad deal. The people at Law Apps had questioned him intensely, relentlessly for two hours—not the most pleasurable experience of his life—but they'd fed him more than he was able to give them. The ploy was simple, and it always worked. He'd played dumb, which had made them explain exactly what it was they wanted. In their explanations was the information he needed to fill in the blanks in what he already knew.
He was now aware that the government was looking for people involved in a group known as the Paz Cadre—the first he had heard of that one—and that their intelligence gathering on the group was sadly lacking. He had also learned that there were three groups, not the one he had originally thought, and he'd managed to get the names of two of them. Not a bad haul for two hours’ work.
There was an ongoing power struggle, and it had turned lethal long before the essences of Washton and Lanno mingled with the Pazian atmosphere. One of the groups—which one was unknown—was in possession of something the others were after—a person—a person worth terming people over.
With the information Law Apps had so willingly given him, it didn't take much thinking to add two and two and come up with four—Niki Kaznov. Niki had secured a job with Mills who, in turn, was connected to Washton. Niki had visited Washton to discuss employment even though he was already in the employ of Mills. Washton had then ordered Mills to the southern tip of the Continent to retrieve a nonexistent barge on business that Sharp assured him they didn't have. Lon Su, a man who Shan was certain was tied to the Generation, had been termed by Washton. Washton, along with Lanno, had come to a nasty end shortly thereafter at the hand of what Shan surmised had to have been the Paz Cadre. In the midst of all that, Niki had disappeared. It all fit, except for Niki.
Why were they all looking to get their hands on a simple fisherman from one of the most isolated islands on Paz, and what was the other group? Shan had to assume that the unknown group had somehow latched on to Niki, but why? It was a continuing mystery but Shan was willing to bet his life that it had something to do with the fact that Niki was a Delta—the only direct-line Delta—according to what he had been able to dig out of the record. None of what he'd gathered from his interrogation pointed toward any reason but, whatever the reason, it was abundantly clear they were all deadly serious in their quest.
It was also clear that the government was unaware of Niki or his importance. Shan was sure that Niki had been cast in a pivotal role of some sort, and that Niki might or might not be cognizant of it. He had to find Niki. He had to warn him, if he didn't already know what was transpiring, or find out what was going on if he was. There was one hell of a story lurking in the morass, and Shan was going to get it.
* * * *
When he entered Washton's office he tripped over a set of file chips strewn about the floor. The place looked like a storm had blown through it, and the girl at the front desk appeared strained. She was talking on the link when Shan made his clumsy entrance, and he startled her. She cut the connection and looked up at him.
“Oh, great day, Mr. Shan. I thought I told you Mr. Washton wouldn't be back for at least a few more days. Why are you ... never mind. If you want to talk we'll have to go into the hall."
Shan guessed he had telegraphed his question because she continued without a pause.
“Enforcement insisted nothing be touched in there until they have a chance to look it over."
“So, what happened here?"
“I don't know. I think it was probably vandals. There's more of that happening every day, you know. Anyway, there doesn't seem to be anything missing—just a bigger mess than my kitchen's usually in—and they broke everything breakable."
“Do you really believe vandals did this?"
“I think so, yes. Thieves take, vandals break, Mr. Shan. Now, what may I do for you?"
Her attitude bothered him, particularly her cool manner in view of the mess inside. She didn't appear to be reacting to the violation of her office in the way one would normally expect. Was she Generation? The destruction in the office, was that a calling card—a warning?
“I'll bet Generation's having a fit about this."
“Who?"
“You know ... Generation."
“I wouldn't know about that, but I can tell you I'm upset about it, and I know Mr. Washton is going to explode when he hears about it. They destroyed his desk, and there's nothing he loves more than that desk, except maybe himself."
Either she was very good, or she didn't know a damned thing. Shan thought he would try a more direct approach and hit her with a shocker at the same time. Maybe that would break her loose.
“Listen, Miss, uh—"
“Valdar."
“Yeah. Miss Valdar. There's no way I can do this easily, so I'll say it straight out."
“That would be refreshing."
Snide hen.
“Right. Anyway, I hope you weren't too close to Mr. Washton. I know he was one of the leaders of the Twelfth Generation and that—"
“Was? Twelfth Generation? What, exactly, is it you're trying to say, Mr. Shan?"
“You do know about the Twelfth Generation, don't you?"
“No, Mr. Shan, I don't. But you used the past tense. Has something happened to Mr. Washton?"
“He was termed up in Nucanda. They fried him crisper than a Halfyear shako offering. Now, I need to find Niki Kaznov, Miss Valdar, before anyone else does. Where is he?"
“Termed? Mr. Washton?"
From the look on her face Shan could see she was genuinely disturbed, shocked. Maybe he had been reading too much into her behavior. Still, no one was innocent in his eyes until all the information was in and he had that feeling about little Miss Valdar. Her innocence, feigned or not, didn't fit the situation.
“Why? Why would anybody want to term poor Mr. Washton? Do they have any idea who did it?"
Poor Mr. Washton?
“Paz Cadre. At least that's my take on it."
“What is—Paz Cadre?"
No tumble—nothing but shock, disbelief, and no response to the Kaznov try. Maybe she didn't know anything.
“A lot of very bad badfolk, that's all. Listen, I'm sorry. I guess I was pretty crude. Let's try this in a different way. Do you know anything at all about the Twelfth Generation and how Washton may have been involved in it?"
“No. He doesn't ... didn't discuss his private life with me or anyone connected with the office. I don't think he did, anyway. When ... when did it happen?"
“His remains were discovered by Law Apps two days ago, along with those of a fellow named Dag Lanno. I'm sorry I was so insensitive, Miss Valdar. Please, forgive me, and thank you for your time. Oh, and I hope you don't have any trouble finding other employment—the economy's a little tight since last Perigamia. Here, take my card, and if you hear from Mr. Kaznov, have him call me. It's ... very important."
She remained silent as Shan made his way to the lift.
“Down. First floor,” he said and, before the doors closed, he could see her standing in the hall, his card dangling from her fingers. Silent. He could be wrong about her, but he doubted it.
Getting her address was a simple matter of using his not quite legally acquired Apps access code for the New London Records Library. Name, address, family history, gene map, link code, and other pertinent data were cross-referenced there in every conceivable combination. Only untracs weren't in the records, but that's why they were called untracs. The people without a history. The unwanted—or wanted—result of illegal and indiscriminate pairings and careless encounters of wrong-line lovers. There were more untracs being born every year, and it was estimated that over eight percent of the population now
fit into that category. Someday Shan would do some digging, maybe do a series on the whole sorry mess.
He sat in his transport and stared at the entrance to the building across the street.
All right, Pasha Valdar, let's see what you do now.
After two hours of impatient waiting, the Enforcement boys came out of the building. She followed about five minutes later and backed her transport out of the dock. Shan, holding well back, discreetly followed.
She wasn't going home. She lived at South End, and she locked on to the eastbound track at Cashow, then began jogging north and east. About ten squares away from her office she pulled off the track and stopped in front of a pub-link. Shan slipped into a dock half a square away and fired up his snooper. He'd never mastered the art of reading lips, but the snooper's super sensitive dish could snag normal conversation out of a room crowded with yowling onners at an easy two hundred meters, so he would be able to hear what she had to say, and her end of the call could be just as informative as hearing both sides of the conversation.
“Hello, sweetheart."
Sweetheart? There wasn't anything in the records about her being paired, or otherwise attached.
“No. Listen to me because this is important."
She was using the privacy connection so Shan could hear nothing of the other party to the conversation, but whoever “Sweetheart” was spoke for quite a while.
She laughed and said, “Meet me at the restaurant as soon as you can."
Sweetheart responded.
“Yes, I'm on my way now,” she replied.
Another pause while Sweetheart said something and she laughed again. Shan liked her laugh. It was different—but it didn't make her innocent.
“Yes. Yes, I will. I love you too."
Love? A pairing that wasn't in the record. Shan smiled smugly as he thought about how that feeling of his almost never led him astray. He turned up the gain as she lowered her voice and spoke to Sweetheart again.
“No, that's not a good idea, and right now I have to get rid of that reporter, Shan. He's following me, and he's parked about half a square back. He's probably listening in with a snooper. Bye."
Damn it.
He followed people all the time. It was all part of the job, and he'd given up counting how many he had tracked years ago. None of them had spotted him that easily. He was right to doubt her, and she was definitely up to something. She was also spending time with someone without Council sanction. That wasn't much in itself, but it was further measure of her character.
Who is this Sweetheart?
Shan had always thought he was good at his work, but this Valdar was proving to be a challenge. He tried to stay with her, and he used every trick he knew, but each turn and track transfer only made him fall farther behind, until she was no longer in sight.
Where was she going? There were hundreds of restaurants in the city. Averaging her direction changes, he determined she was working her way steadily north and a little east. Shan scrolled up a list of eateries to the north of town. There were thirty-five from Central out to North End. He had already reached Aldrin Avenue, so the number of possibilities had been reduced to twenty-two by the time Valdar gave him the slip. Shan decided there was nothing more he could do but try them all.
* * * *
Pasha was out of breath when she entered Twelve Points, having run three squares from where she'd docked her transport. Antaris was in the process of turning the lights down to half illumination—the universal signal to any would-be clients that the kitchen was closed—when Pasha grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.
“What? What is it, Pasha?"
“We have to talk."
She told Antaris about the office, the Enforcement investigators, and what Shan had said about Washton, Lanno, and the Paz Cadre.
“Shan knows a lot more than we thought, Trina."
“Yes, he does, and it is far too much, I think. It will not take him long to put things in their proper order—after that, we will be in the open."
“From the things he said, he probably doesn't know about Twelve Points."
“Maybe not, Pasha, but we should not make assumptions like that. This man, Shan, is persistent, and he undoubtedly smells a story that will push him even harder."
“Niki stayed with me last night,” Pasha said, avoiding any eye contact with Antaris. “I thought he'd be safe there. With Shan digging around, though, I'm not so sure any more."
“Uh-huh. Where is Nikisha now?"
“He was at my place, but I called him on the way over here and he should arrive any time."
“Did Shan know it was Nikisha you called?"
“No."
“That's good. Do you think he has an inkling Nikisha is involved with us?"
“No. Based on what he said, I don't think he knows we exist, but I'm certain he thinks I have something to do with the Generation, particularly after our little track race this evening."
“Uh-huh. Now is the time to find a safe place for our Delta. Shan probably already has your address, and when he gets tired of visiting North End restaurants he will be going there to see what he can find."
Antaris took a look around the restaurant, then told Lira to close up, and Pasha was chewing on the ‘our Delta’ remark. It reduced Niki to a commodity, a thing, a possession to be stashed away—hidden from those who would steal it. She didn't like the sound of it—but it was true.
“You like this Nikisha Kaznov a lot, do you not, Pasha?"
“Niki? What makes you say that?"
“I am not blind, and do not answer questions with more questions. Do you?"
“No, Trina, I don't like him a lot. I'm very much in love with him."
“Ah—well, now—that is interesting and a little bit dangerous. Do you understand why it is dangerous?"
“Yes."
“Good. Keep it in mind.” Antaris tossed an impish grin at Pasha and continued, “When he was with you last night ... did you two, uh—"
“Trina! Even if we did, I wouldn't tell you."
“That is fair. I apologize, and I suppose I should not be so nosey. How was it?"
“You witch,” Pasha said, laughing hysterically. “It was marvelous. There, satisfied?"
“Uh-huh, and I have to tell you it is about time."
Pasha lifted the window blanker, partly to see if Niki was getting off the Public that stopped across the street, and partly to hide her blush from Trina. As the Public pulled away she could see two women, too drunk to do much walking, zigzagging their way around the corner to the south, but Niki was nowhere to be seen.
“I'm worried, Trina. Can you send one of the others to check my place?"
“Of course, passion pie."
“Trina."
“I can call Dun. He lives close—but I do not think that will be necessary."
“Why not?” Pasha protested.
“Because marvelous just walked through the kitchen door."
No bush weasel on Paz, having the good fortune to come upon an unsuspecting barkel hen feeding in a thicket, could have moved as fast as Pasha. She was out of the booth and in his arms before the door closed behind him.
“Where have you been?” she demanded.
“I took the B8 out to the Southeast Quarter and walked from there."
Niki bent down and kissed her, then smiled at both of them. The smile was something more than friendly recognition.
“Pasha. Trina. I know now. The Enlightenment. I know what it is we are to do. Well, most of it, anyway."
Antaris jumped out of the booth and threw out her arms.
“Nikisha,” she said, “do you tell it true? You are fully awake?"
“I don't know about fully, but I know a lot more now than I did this morning. This morning, after you..."
He gave Pasha a questioning look.
“She knows."
“This morning, after you left, I took a nap and had a dream that wouldn't stop. When I can tell you about it, you're not goin
g to believe it. Fantastic is all I can say. Anyway—"
“So, tell us about it,” Antaris said.
“No, Trina, not yet.” Niki held Pasha tightly and guided her to the booth. “I love you,” he said into her ear with his lips so close they brushed her flap. She giggled and pushed him away playfully.
“Trina, before I can tell you what I've learned, there are several things we need and people we must have available to accomplish all that has to be done."
He laid four stacks of paper on the table, turned for her to read, then gently put his hand over hers.
“Trina,” he said softly. “There's a chance we may not be able to take care of everyone. The Fathers hoped to lose no more than six shuttles during the original settlement, but they lost twenty-four. Each of the shuttles can carry no more than fifty people at a time when the cores are—"
“The cores from the Riddle of the Ancients?” she interrupted.
“That's right, and we have to move ninety cores with sixteen shuttles. I don't know how many trips we'll be able to make before we have to leave."
“Leave? Leave what?"
Niki ignored her question and the equally puzzled look Pasha had on her face. He motioned to Lira who was putting up the final blanker.
“Yes, sir?"
“Lira, bring massak for all of us and something for yourself as well. I'd like to have you at the table with us."
Niki turned back to Antaris and said, “It may be that many will have to remain. Your job is to decide who among those of Twelve Points have attained the highest levels of awareness and make a list with the most aware at the top, the rest in descending order."
“But—"
“I am aware of how much you care for all of them, and I'm sorry I have to do this to you, but you're the one who knows them best. Can you do it?"
“Yes, I can do it. If that is what must be done, then I will do it. I have the notion that you are saying we are going somewhere else and that we will be leaving some people behind. Will I be taking the place of the Grand Terminator by making this list? I mean, will those who remain be in jeopardy?"
Seeds of Memory Page 17