“You sure know how to pick ’em,” he said.
Andie put down her drink with a splash.
“You found him?”
Bailey nodded. “Three kilobytes worth. Benjamin Carrera, a.k.a. Cariddi, a.k.a. Canay. He’s got a rap sheet that’ll straighten your hair. What do you want to hear first?”
“Start at the beginning.”
“Age thirty-four. Nationality unknown. Possibly Canadian, or maybe Brazilian. Incarcerated in juvenile hall, 1997, judged incorrigible. Tore up three foster homes before they could get him into juvey. Released 2003, on his eighteenth birthday. Two years later, indicted for illegal transportation of minors over state lines. Not convicted. Suspicion of trafficking in controlled substances. 2010, arrested after skimmer search yielded half a kilo of breen. Mistrial declared due to illegal search procedures. 2013, indicted on two counts of kidnapping. No convictions.
“Suspected agent for foreign interests. Most recently thought to be involved in labor trafficking from U.S. to Africa, Far East, Brazil. Five indictments on terms of child labor law violation, transporting minors across state lines for illicit purposes. No convictions.”
Bailey looked up from his lapscreen. “This is not a nice person, Red. How do you know him?”
“He’s working in my office.”
“For Senator what’s-his-name?”
“Jeffers. Yes.”
Bailey stared at her.
“I don’t like it,” he said. “Does the senator know about this character?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Andie gnawed at her lower lip. “Bailey, what was the name of the guy who reported his car was trashed by Melanie Ryton?”
“Who?”
“That mutant girl I had you check out last year.”
Bailey punched a code into a keyboard, cursed, looked up.
“Cariddi. How’d you know?”
“Just a hunch.” She smiled wryly. “Well, it’s been fun doing your work for you, Bailey. Let me know if you’d like to come do public relations for the senator sometime.”
He looked chagrined. “Cute. You have any problems with this Canay?”
“Not yet.”
“Try and keep it that way, Red. He’s slippery.”
“So it seems. So I thought.”
“Anything else I can do?”
“Go home and get some rest. Thanks, Bailey.” She blew him a kiss.
“Be careful, Andie,” he said, all teasing gone from his voice. “And stay in touch.”
“I will.”
The screen went dark.
Andie finished unpacking and had another drink.
Wait until I tell Stephen, she thought, grimly satisfied. Won’t he be surprised.
She put the drink down and started to walk across the room. Stopped. Covered her mouth with her hand.
What if he’s not surprised?
What if he’s known about Ben all this time?
What do I do now?
Andie spent most of the night sitting on the couch, running through the same questions over and over again.
How well does Stephen know Ben? How well?
Long before dawn, she gave up any pretense of trying to sleep and got dressed.
The tube station was eerie and deserted, lit by blue cryolights. Andie felt as if she were the only person alive in Washington. She was at the office before six.
A dark-skinned woman wearing a mauve suit was standing outside the office door as though it were two in the afternoon.
“Ms. Greenberg?” she asked. Her voice was a pleasing alto.
“Yes?”
“I’m Rayma Esteron, Washington Post.” She flashed her press credentials. “Could we talk someplace privately?”
Andie stared at her. “Isn’t it a little early, Ms. Esteron? How did you get in here? And did you camp out all night?”
The dark woman smiled conspiratorially. “Not quite. I know a few people.…”
“Well, I really can’t see you without an appointment,” Andie said crisply.
“This is very important, Ms. Greenberg,” Esteron said. “Are you sure you couldn’t spare a few minutes?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“It concerns Senator Jeffers. And Mr. Canay.”
“Oh?”
Esteron’s face was impassive.
“All right,” Andie said carefully. “Would you like to talk inside the office?”
Esteron shook her head. “Someplace else would be better. My skimmer. It’s parked outside.”
Andie stared at her in astonishment. “That’s highly irregular.”
“Please indulge me,” she said pleasantly.
Andie shrugged. “Lead on.”
Esteron’s purple skimmer was parked in the service entrance of the North Hall. Shivering, Andie followed the other woman into the frigid February air.
She must know a lot of people, she thought. By now, my skimmer would have had five tickets.
The reporter touched a button at her wrist and the doors sprang open. Andie slid into the passenger’s seat.
“Well? We’re locked up safe and sound,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Let’s go for a drive,” Esteron said. She programmed the mechpilot and leaned back to face Andie. The skimmer sped down the street and toward an approach to the Beltway.
“Ms. Greenberg, at the time of her death, Jacqui Renstrow had developed quite a file on the senator’s financial dealings. Have you ever noticed any irregularities in the senator’s accounting practices?”
Andie’s pulse pounded. “Why ask me? I’m the media liaison.”
Esteron gave her a knowing look. “You’re also very close to the senator.”
“I think you’d better talk to somebody in bookkeeping,” Andie said quickly. “I have nothing to say.”
The other woman sighed. “I’d hoped you would cooperate.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a slim wallet, flipped it open. A gold badge covered with bluegreen holocircuitry winked at Andie.
“Ms. Greenberg, I’m with the FBI,” Esteron said. “We’re conducting a probe of Senator Jeffers’s finances. It appears that great sums of money are being siphoned out of the office.”
“What? Where is it going?”
“That’s what we’d like to find out.”
“Why are you telling me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell him?”
Esteron nodded. “Frankly, yes. We know about your relationship with the senator. However, you’re one of only two nonmutants working in his office. And we can’t approach Canay, as you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Joe Bailey is a friend of mine,” the agent said quietly. “And yours. He’s worried about you. After your conversation with him last night, he called me. We put a camera on your apartment. That’s why I was waiting for you this morning.”
“Bailey told you about Canay?” Andie shook her head. “I’ll kill him.” She clenched her fists. Then her eyes met Esteron’s, and she almost smiled.
“Don’t tell me about it if you do.” Esteron’s voice held the hint of a warm chuckle. But her face stayed sober. “Ms. Greenberg, we suspect that Canay is implicated heavily. The senator may be blameless. If you doubt my statements, I can show you the financial records. But I think you believe me.”
“You’re right.”
“Good. Then I’d like to ask you to work with us.”
“What?” Andie stared at her in disbelief.
“Just report what you see, once a day.”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
Esteron smiled gently. “You realize that if we do indict the senator on fraud, or Mr. Canay, you could also be indicted as an accessory?”
“Don’t threaten me with phantoms,” Andie snapped. “As your records undoubtedly show, I’m also a lawyer. I know how to defend myself in a courtroom. I think I’d start with deliberate discrimination against and hounding of the only mutant senator in Congress. Besides, if you’ve been snooping around as muc
h as I think you have, then you’d know I’d never turn against Stephen for you. Ever.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” The agent stared beyond her, out the window. “Will you tell him about this?”
“I don’t know.” Andie threw up her hands. “Why do you have to involve me in this? Why can’t you just do your job?”
“We need your help.”
“Well, find somebody else to help you.”
“You’re the only one who can.”
“Then I guess you’re out of luck.” Andie’s voice was harsh. “Was Jacqui Renstrow working with you?”
“She was an informant, yes. We’re afraid that her death may be linked to this.”
Their eyes locked for a moment.
“I can’t believe that,” Andie said. “I won’t. Stephen couldn’t have been involved in any of this.”
“We hope not.”
Andie fought to maintain her self-control. “I don’t want to discuss this further. I’d like to get back to work now.” She crossed her arms and gazed out the window at the first wavering rays of sunlight.
“If you wish.” Esteron’s voice was soft, regretful. She pushed a button and the skimmer turned the corner, winding its way back toward the Capitol. Neither woman spoke for the remainder of the ride.
The skimmer pulled up by the North Hall service entrance. As Andie got out, Esteron handed her a holocard.
“In case you change your mind.” The agent gave her a quick salute and drove off.
Andie hurried upstairs. It was well past seven. Had she been talking with Esteron that long? Head throbbing, she fixed a cup of coffee. What should she tell Jeffers? It had to be Canay’s doing. Stephen would never do anything illegal. Never.
Ben Canay strode into the office. He smiled brightly when he saw her.
“Good morning! You’re here early.”
She forced a smile in return. “Just couldn’t stay away, I guess.”
Her deskscreen buzzed loudly. It was a call from Jeffers. He was sitting in his skimmer.
“Andie, thank God I found you. I tried you at home first.”
“What’s wrong, Stephen?”
“I’ve left one of my screencases at home and I’ve got to make an eight o’clock breakfast meeting. Can you send a messenger for it?”
Inspiration struck her with the swiftness of a data shunt.
“I don’t trust those messengers,” she said. “Why don’t I run by and pick it up? I’ve got a light morning.”
Jeffers gave her a relieved smile. “You don’t mind?”
“My pleasure.”
“It’s on the hall table by the door. I’ll tell the lock to admit you.”
“Fine.”
“Andie, I owe you one.” He winked and was gone.
The cab ride to Jeffers’s exclusive neighborhood took fifteen minutes. Quickly, the landscape changed from the marble nobility of the government buildings to neat suburban homes set off by dense trees and careful landscaping. It was picturesque even in winter, Andie thought.
As she alighted at Jeffers’s townhouse, the sun broke through the morning’s clouds. She fitted her palm over the diamond-shaped scanner at the front door. The lock clicked and she was in.
The front hallway was well lit by opaque ivory panels. Jeffers’s screencase was exactly where he’d said it would be, lying on a burnished-oak side table near the door.
Andie had never seen Jeffers’s house. Grasping the screencase, she walked carefully up the dark-green-carpeted stairs and emerged into a large, sun-filled room paneled in teak. A long hallway branched off to the left. The first room she came to held a deskscreen, file drawers, and a gray floatsofa.
She set down the screencase and stared at the screen.
I’ve got to know, she thought.
She tapped out an experimental code on the keyboard.
The screen stayed blank.
Jeffers’s office screen code brought no response either.
She stared at the screen. Jeffers had programmed the lock to admit her. How could she convince the deskscreen to do the same? Her eye strayed to the palmpad at the side of the keyboard.
What if his house electronics were all on the same circuit? Could he have inadvertently programmed his own screen to admit her? She pressed her hand against the pad. The screen burst into light.
Andie scrolled through the menu. So many files. Where to begin?
An entry tabbed “Jacobsen” scrolled past. She brought it up. What appeared was a spread sheet indicating funds reserved for A.T.
“Clarify A.T.,” Andie requested.
“Arnold Tamlin,” the screen replied. “See March file.”
Tamlin?
Andie’s hands began to shake.
She requested the file. It was a series of instructions to Tamlin from Ben Canay, corrected by Jeffers.
My God, Andie thought. Jeffers masterminded Jacobsen’s murder!
Her legs went out from under her; and she sat down with a thud in the desk chair.
No. I can’t believe this.
Andie covered her face with her hands.
What should I do now?
I could just leave, she thought. Pretend not to know anything.
No.
Andie turned and stared at the screen.
I can’t leave, she thought. And I’ve got to know how far this goes. With a deep breath, she began scrolling through the menu again.
An hour later, she’d located the spread sheets that showed where the money was being diverted.
Brazil. Medical clinics in and around Rio de Janeiro.
The supermutant research, Andie thought. He’s behind that too. She felt a hysterical urge to laugh. But the only sound she uttered was a sob, high and thin.
I need a copy of this, she told herself. But where should I stash it? My office screen is too accessible. Even my homescreen could be broken into.
For a moment, she thought of Brazil. The gentle palm trees. The lovely natives. Karim.
Karim!
She could transmit this to his homescreen. She still had his private code. And even if he found it before she could contact him, he wouldn’t erase it without talking to her first.
With a sigh of relief, she duped the evidence and made the screen-to-screen relay, erasing the transmission code behind her. Then she sank back in her chair.
Andie gasped.
Jeffers was leaning casually against the door. He wasn’t smiling.
Her heart pounded in terror but she kept her voice calm.
“Stephen, I thought you were in a meeting.” Feigning nonchalance, she reached over and cut off the screen’s power.
“My meeting was canceled,” Jeffers said. “Ben got worried when you didn’t come right back. How did you get into my screen?”
Andie shrugged. “It was on when I got here. Maybe you forgot it.”
“Maybe I did,” Jeffers said, frowning. “But why were you using it?
“I needed to reprogram my mechmaid and I thought you wouldn’t mind if I did it with your screen.”
“Didn’t you bring your own notescreen with you?”
“I left it at the office,” Andie said, knowing that her screencase was tucked out of sight on the far side of the sofa.
“Well, no harm done,” Jeffers said.
He drew her up into an embrace and pressed against her suggestively.
“As long as we’re here, I ought to offer you the grand tour. Have you seen the bedroom?”
He nuzzled her neck. Andie’s stomach contracted in a peculiar combination of terror, revulsion, and desire. She pulled back.
“I’d like to see your bathroom first,” she said. Smiling nervously, she fled down the hall into the john. Once she’d locked the door behind her, she studied her reflection in the blue-tinted mirror and counted out thirty seconds, and then thirty more.
You can’t stay in here forever, she thought. Maybe you can plead a hea
dache and get out the door.
Stay calm and keep moving, she told herself.
When she reentered the study, Jeffers was sitting on the sofa, holding her screencase in his lap. He watched her the way a cat watches a bird alight.
“I thought you left this at the office,” he said. His voice was soft.
Andie felt the color draining out of her face. “Oh, uh, yes. I guess I didn’t.”
“Don’t bother lying, Andie. I just checked the screen memory. You forgot to erase the record of files most recently used.”
He put the screencase aside and stood up.
“I suppose you’re shocked,” he said.
She tried to bluff. “What do you mean?”
“About Tamlin.”
“What about Tamlin?”
“Don’t play games with me, Andie.” His voice was steely. “It was all Ben’s idea anyway.”
Andie relaxed slightly.
“You mean Ben arranged Tamlin’s access to Jacobsen?” she said.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t know what he was up to?”
“He handled everything.” Jeffers’s gaze never wavered.
“Thank God,” she said. “I knew it. You couldn’t have set up Jacobsen’s murder.”
Jeffers smiled triumphantly. Andie’s relief faltered.
“No, I never intended her death,” he said. “Tamlin was just supposed to wound her. But he was too unstable and overdid it.”
She stared at him. “You wanted her wounded? You did plan the attack on her?”
“Yes,” Jeffers said. “I had to get her out of the way. I should have won that election to begin with. I had a clearer grasp of the issues. The needs.”
“What needs are you talking about?”
Jeffers took her hand. “Andie, surely you see that the schism between mutants and nonmutants must be closed, and quickly.”
“Of course.”
“Jacobsen was too slow. She didn’t realize the forces of history were bearing down upon us.”
“That’s hardly a reason to kill her.”
Jeffers shook his head impatiently. “I told you. I never wanted her killed. Stunned. Temporarily incapacitated. There would have been room later for her to play a part.”
“A part in what?”
“My government. She would have been a fine Secretary of State. Or she could have selected any cabinet post and I would have been pleased to grant it.”