“You’re involved just by having visited Syntex … and by knowing Aimee Vanslo.”
“What does she have to do with Syntex?”
“Come now, Paulo.”
“What does she have to do with Syntex?” I asked again.
“You don’t know? Just who did you meet with at Syntex?”
“A Bryse Tharon, the assistant director for environment. Who else would I be meeting with? On environmental issues, especially?”
“Did Aimee tell you who she worked for?”
“No. I asked her several times on the Persephonya. She just said she was in management.”
“She is. She’s a high-level executive at VLE.”
“VLE … the big Bachman multi? So why is she here on Stittara? Are they going to open a subsidiary here or something?”
“They already have one.” He brushed back his hair again with his left hand.
“You’re suggesting that Syntex belongs to VLE and that Aimee is some sort of troubleshooter for VLE, then?”
“I’ll leave it to you to figure that out.” He smiled, coolly. “I’ll be in touch.” He strode ahead of me and turned at the next corner.
I just stood there for several moments, as if stunned … just in case someone else was watching or recording. Then I ran toward the corner and looked around it. Of course, he was gone.
I’d hoped that Aimee’s security was better than that of the Survey Service, and from Gybl’s reactions, it appeared to be. Even if he had access to my comms from the Survey, I’d only talked to assistants and to Tharon from my console. And now that I recalled it, like a good security person, Kali had never identified herself when she’d linked me at the Survey, and I’d never mentioned her name, and her link had come across as unknown. She’d never even mentioned anything except where we were to meet and when, and that she was in Passova for the evening. Gybl would have a hard time tracking her down … unless he could get inside RDAEX security.
Should I send her a link about Gybl? I’d have to do it through my own link to the planetlink, if I didn’t want Gybl to know. I decided to think about that. A few stans shouldn’t matter, especially on a sevenday evening. You hope.
I almost got lost twice, and had to use my link for directions before I finally located the old and narrower pedestrian tunnel on which Aloris’s dwelling was situated. Once at her door, I’d only pressed the chime stud for a moment before she opened the door.
“Paulo! Come in!” She stepped back.
I entered, directly into a sitting or living chamber, large enough that it didn’t seem crowded even with nearly a dozen people there.
“I told you he’d be punctual,” Aloris said, looking to Raasn. “That’s something everyone can always count on from Paulo.” She smiled, except the smile wasn’t quite a smile.
“Women like men they can count on,” said Amarios, looking at Haaran.
“The same holds true for men,” he replied.
Across the room I spied Jorl Algeld, talking with Venessa and Zerlyna, a rather odd threesome, I thought.
A woman with short-cut blond hair and watery green eyes approached as if she knew me. It took a moment for me to recall her name. “Darlian … how are you?”
“As always. No matter how out of hand matters get for their clients, advocates lead fairly dull and predictable lives. How about you?”
“I’ve spent a lot of time reading reports and gathering and analyzing environmental statistics. So far, I’ve discovered absolutely nothing surprising and no one violating environmental regulations.”
“That’s good for you, but not for advocates in the environmental field. I’d heard you’ve been visiting some of the outie communities. How have you found them?”
“So far, they’ve been skeptical but polite. A number of them, I’ve discovered, don’t show up on the official maps approved by the Planetary Council.”
“That’s because unapproved communities can’t vote.”
“But wouldn’t they want to?”
“I think most of the outland communities think that the Council is largely irrelevant to them. I have the feeling that communities are approved slowly and in a way that doesn’t change voting patterns.”
“But the Survey Service has to enforce compliance with environmental rules…” I broke off as Amarios approached with a beaker of ale.
“Zantos, I believe, is your beverage of choice.”
“It is, and thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I hate to see a man thirsty.” She smiled, then slipped away.
I took a sip of the Zantos. Welcome as it was, it wasn’t as good as the local lager in Hobbes. When I lowered the beaker, I saw Algeld moving toward us.
“I heard you talking about outland enforcement,” he said. “How did your visits go?”
“Quietly and politely, and no one seems to be violating anything.”
“No. They won’t let their people get anywhere close to the limits. They don’t want to give the Council any excuses for removing a settlement.”
“Has that happened?”
“Not in … a very long time,” Algeld replied.
“How long have you been with the Survey?”
“Too long,” he replied with a laugh. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.”
“Good.” With that, he slipped back to talk to Venessa.
Zerlyna had moved away and was talking with someone I’d never met.
The rest of the evening was the same, pleasant conversation about superficial pleasantries, with an evasive answer to almost anything that might have required a direct response beyond a pleasantry. Yet everyone seemed at ease with that, almost as if it were a social convention that nothing of import be discussed, and I wondered if that happened to be the case in any gathering in Passova, large or small.
When I felt it was time to go, I slipped away from a conversation about the better eateries in Passova and found Aloris. “Thank you for an evening that allowed me to escape my assignment.” I inclined my head to her.
“You’re most welcome. You’re leaving punctually as well. I’ll bet you’ll even be at the Survey vehicle bay at seven-thirty sharp tomorrow, punctual as you are. You’ve already gotten a reputation for punctuality … with everyone.”
“You checked on when I’m using a vehicle?”
“As administrative director, I have to check on everything that costs the Survey duhlars,” she countered. “That’s part of what I do.”
“You obviously do it well.”
“Thank you.”
Once I was out in the pedestrian tunnel, I glanced around, but saw only a couple rather engrossed in each other, and a patroller in gray who nodded to me and kept walking. As I made my way back to my quarters, I kept thinking. Aloris had made two references to being punctual … and that was no accident.
48
Before I went to bed on sevenday evening, I decided to be at the Survey vehicle bay very early on oneday, just in case what Aloris had offered was in fact a warning. If she hadn’t, or it was a general advisory … well, then I’d just leave early. So … before seven I was already waiting and had stationed myself in what amounted to a corner from where I could watch anything that might happen. I didn’t have a weapon, just my equipment case, but where would I have gotten a weapon?
At seven sharp, a man wearing a light blue maintenance-style singlesuit walked into the vehicle bay. He carried a standard-sized tool kit and walked to the first Survey Service vehicle, a runabout, where he opened the rear and apparently checked the electric motor. He closed the rear, and did the same to the second runabout.
While I wasn’t totally certain, I had a feeling that the “tech” wasn’t anything of the sort. I could let the false maintenance tech go, but the odds were that someone had already programmed the security scanners, or that the “tech” was wearing a face mask or the like, and would never be found. I’d already discovered how hard it was to find out things on Stittara that people didn’
t want revealed, and I wanted to find out who was setting up the van for a breakdown.
So when he approached the Survey van I’d been using and had reserved, I put on a pleasant expression and walked hurriedly toward the van, swinging my equipment case, stopping short of the man in the dull blue service singlesuit and saying, “Some last-minute maintenance, I see.”
He looked up and said politely, “Yes, ser. Can’t be too careful. I’ll only be a moment. If you’d please stand back.”
“I’m sure you can’t. Certainly.” As I smiled, I shifted my grip on the heavy equipment case.
“No, ser.” He turned toward me, and I could see something in his hand.
I had the heavy case moving fast and straight at his gut.
He tried to dodge, but the case hit with a thud, and I let it go, and took his unweaponed hand and arm and used them to lever him down and drive his head and neck into the side of the van.
The stunner clattered onto the permacrete.
I’d obviously used too much force, because he lay there limply on the ground. He was breathing, though. That was fine with me. I didn’t need a dead man on my hands.
I didn’t even have to link an alarm.
In moments, Dermotte was running across the bay, followed by a uniformed Survey Service guard and, well behind them, a Passova patroller in gray.
“Are you all right, Doctor?” demanded Dermotte.
“I’m fine, but I’d like to know what he was planting in the van…”
Then … I heard a click. I didn’t even wait, but grabbed Dermotte and took two long strides and threw the two of us on the permacrete directly behind the van. We were down flat, and the security guard and the patroller had jumped back.
Moments passed … and nothing happened.
I waited, lying there, wondering if I’d overreacted.
Whump!
The front end of the van exploded … and debris scattered everywhere.
When the debris stopped falling, I scrambled up. I could see that most of the blast had been directed toward the driver’s position. That didn’t surprise me, but it did explain why the rest of us hadn’t been shredded. I could also see that the patroller and the Survey guard were both down, but both looked to be breathing, and I didn’t see great gouts of blood. The false tech didn’t move, either.
The next few minutes were a blur, with medtechs arriving, and more patrollers.
The patrollers asked me question after question, and they did the same with Dermotte.
I told almost the entire truth, only shading it to the extent that I said I’d seen the stunner before I threw the equipment case at the imposter tech. I did get the case back, and it was tough enough that it was only gouged. And the guard and the patroller had been stunned and had cuts, but nothing serious.
Dermotte said several times that he’d called the patrollers when he’d seen the man fiddling with vehicles, but that he hadn’t expected me until later, and he’d been shocked to see me question the imposter.
In retrospect, it did seem incredibly stupid … but I wasn’t used to people wanting to blow me up. In fact, I’d never faced a mugger or a thief, and the only other time I’d faced a drawn weapon was facing “Reksba.” I’d really thought that he was tampering with the engine so that I would have gotten stuck in the middle of nowhere.
Eventually, I got back to Dermotte and asked for another van.
“Ser? After this?” He gestured toward that section of the vehicle bay where a forensic tech and two patrollers were still examining the wreckage.
“Especially after this.” For more than a few reasons, I wasn’t about to stay in Passova at the moment.
“I’ll see what I can do, ser.”
It took more than another hour before I left Passova at a few minutes past eleven on the way to Donniga, the nearest outland settlement on my list for the week—although I’d originally planned to go there later. With all the time I’d lost, heading for the nearest made more sense. I’d also taken time to pack a bag with clothes for several days while Dermotte had arranged for another van.
It was still close to two hours away, and I had plenty of time to think about what had happened, especially since the nearest skytubes were well to the north—a definite change from what I’d seen so far.
The questions had piled up in my mind. Who wanted me dead? Rob Gybl? The Planetary Council? Kali Artema? Belk Edo? It was unlikely to be someone in the Survey Service, not in the way the blast had been set up. Yet it appeared as though Dermotte and Survey security had been alerted, while I’d only been warned “unofficially.” But why had they been alerted, and not me? Was that because it would be useful to have me out of the way, the hapless bystander in whatever was going on? The fact that Aloris had “warned” me … had it really been a warning, or a ruse to get me to where I could be removed? Or had she thought what I’d thought, that someone was going to create a breakdown—and not a murder? Dermotte had said that he hadn’t expected me until later, and that was probably true. He wouldn’t have had any reason to know or think otherwise.
The problem was that there were too many possibilities and not enough facts, whereas, with my environmental assignment, I had plenty of facts, but the ones I needed were missing.
I arrived at the community center building in the middle of Donniga at twenty-one minutes to two. The building was located on a gentle hillside overlooking a long and narrow lake that wound between the rolling hills to the southeast. From the link map, the town was some twenty kays southwest of the Syntex main facility and looked to be even smaller than Thoreau.
I’d barely opened the rear of the Survey van to remove the equipment I needed from my battered and gouged equipment case when a man walked toward me. He wore the brown outland patroller singlesuit, but his hair was gray.
“You must be the ecologist from Bachman … and, yes, my hair is gray. Harmless mutation, and I’m not old or dying.”
“You must get that look or question often from outsiders.”
“I do. That’s why I address it right off.”
“Here’s another question. Does everyone in every outland community know about me?”
“I’d be surprised if all our patrollers on Conuno don’t. Poulina Maruka is very conscientious.”
“From what I’ve seen,” I said dryly, “you’re all that way. By the way, officially and unofficially, I’m Paulo Verano.”
“Benje Voeryn.”
“You’re the head patroller here?”
“I suppose so, since I’m the only one.” He smiled. “You plan to start with the crops again?”
“I’d thought to.”
“It’ll take a while. You might not be able to finish today.”
“I got an unavoidably slow start.” I shrugged. “Would there be any place here I could stay the night?”
“We don’t have fancy places, but there are three or four guesthouses. They’re mostly for visitors from other outland communities…”
“I understand, but I’m not demanding. As an ecologist, I’ve stayed in less than the best of circumstances, and I expect even the most modest guesthouse would be better than some places I’ve stayed.” And probably safer.
Voeryn nodded, but didn’t commit himself.
I loaded the monitors I needed into the smaller bag, and then closed the van, glancing toward the north.
“Skytubes won’t be heading this way any time soon,” said the patroller.
“Because they’re not dark enough … or for some other reason?”
“I couldn’t give you a reason. After a while you just get to know.”
“And if you don’t, sooner or later it doesn’t matter?”
He nodded. “Pretty much … unless you’ve got enough sense to look to someone who does know. The closest crop strips are uphill.”
I got the message. He really didn’t want to talk. So for the next three hours we didn’t, except for his occasional directions or responses to my questions about items or locations. I just to
ok my readings and entered them into my link, but only into the unit I carried. From what I could tell, once again I could find nothing that was even close to any limits. Still … four communities were far too small a sample to conclude much beside the point that, so far, those close to Passova seemed not to present an environmental problem.
As we walked back toward the center of Donniga, Voeryn finally volunteered something. “Loreen and Dunuld, that’s Loreen Untlor and Dunuld Strem, they’ve got a room free tonight.” He paused momentarily, then added, “Good people.”
“That would be wonderful.” I didn’t know about wonderful, but it was definitely good. “Ah … I don’t know much about the protocol … the recompense…”
Voeryn laughed. “They’ve got posted rates. Paylinks work here as well as in Passova. Better, I’d say. I’ll let them know. When will you be done?”
“I still have to cover any templating centers, recycling and sanitary works, plus an arcade, if you have one.”
“Two, we have. I’ll tell them it’s likely to be closer to seven.”
He was right. It was half past six before I finished.
Then I had to walk to Loreen and Dunuld’s place, a good half kay south of the community center, its entry distinguished from the other stone ovals only by the blue square that Benje had mentioned. I was glad it wasn’t farther, because I’d had to park the van in the underground visitors’ vehicle bay at the community center and carry the kit bag that held my clothing. I kept looking to the north, but the skytubes hadn’t darkened.
When I got to the bottom of the entry ramp, I didn’t have to knock on the door because a young-looking woman opened the heavy door as I walked up.
“You look like an ecologist,” she said.
“I am.” I inclined my head. “I’m Paulo Verano, and you must be Loreen.”
“The very same. I hope you’ll be wanting supper.” She stepped back and gestured for me to enter the small entry hall, then closed the door behind me.
“That would be wonderful. I’ve not eaten since early this morning.”
The One-Eyed Man Page 30