Robert Charette - Never deal with a Dragon

But the response to his letter requesting permission to meet with his sister was worrying. He could not see any reason why Sam would want to talk to him personally. Hadn’t the Kansayaku shown nothing but contempt for Sam when they had last met? A reversal of attitude seemed unwarranted, despite Hanae’s belief that such a happy turnabout was just what Sam could expect from the meeting. Sam had been seeing too much behind the surface lately; he held little faith in her optimism.

The receptionist called his name, cutting off any further speculation. Whether Sato wanted to help or reprimand him, lack of promptness would not improve Sam’s position. He stood and straightened his jacket, then marched forward under the cold chrome stare of Akabo. Behind him, his red shadow did not move.

The inner office made the outer seem furnished in castoffs. The entrance swept away from the door in vaulted magnificence. Beyond the masterpiece-bedecked walls of the entryway, the room opened out into a broad space many times the size of the office Sam shared with a dozen coworkers. Impressive as the furnishings were, the long outer wall diminished them. The direct view of the Seattle skyline offered by the floor-to-ceiling windows was vaguely disturbing after Sam’s long isolation within the arcology.

Midway between the entry and the window, a desk stood isolated from the rest of the chamber, elevated on a dais of some dark, close-grained wood. A well-groomed and carefully attired man sat in a suede-covered chair behind the chrome-legged marble slab.

Sato.

He stood as Sam entered the main portion of the chamber and stepped off the platform and came around in front of

the desk.

“ Konichiwa, Verner- san .”

“ Ojama shimasu, Sato- sama, ” Sam returned with a formal bow. He thought it wise to be extremely polite.

“Please have a seat,” Sato offered, extending a hand toward an alcove by the window.

Sam selected a chair that placed his back to the vista. It was a relief that etiquette required him to allow his host the scenic view. He did not want to be distracted.

Sato seated himself with a comment about the current league standings of the Sonics that made it painfully obvious that the Kansayaku knew nothing about basketball. Sam played along, knowing that the small talk was only a preliminary. It was merely polite noise to allow the participants in the conversation to gauge each other’s mood.

A woman brought a tray with tea and sweet cakes. Only as she began pouring the tea did Sam realize that Alice Crenshaw was doing the serving. Crenshaw grinned at him, and Sam suddenly felt cold.

“Ms. Crenshaw has been filling me in on your activities since you arrived in Seattle,” Sato confided, dropping the faltering pleasantries. “Most interesting.”

Sam didn’t know what to say. How could he? He had no idea what Crenshaw had told Sato. Anything he said could easily get him into trouble.

“Nothing to say?” Sato’s smile reminded Sam of the sharks in the Level 2 public aquarium. “I should think that you would want to make some comment. A reason for what you have done, perhaps?”

Sam cleared his throat. Sato had still not given him a clue to the nature of this test. “I have always held Renraku first in my thoughts. I do not believe that I have ever performed a disloyal action.”

“That is a rote response, Verner- san, ” Sato observed. “This is not morning assembly, so I do not need to hear you repeat the shakun. I assure you that I know the corporate articles by heart.”

“I meant no disrespect, Kansayaku. ”

“Then I shall take no offense.” Sato placed his tea cup on the tray. “Yet.”

Sam returned his cup as well. The procelain clattered slightly as it met the lacquered surface. Sato’s next words were so soft that Sam almost didn’t hear them.

“You are dissatisfied with your job?”

“I serve the corporation, Kansayaku, ” Sam stated strongly. “I do my best at whatever task is set before me.”

“Yes. So it seems, There have been no complaints about your performance.” Sato tapped the arm of his chair. Sam thought that he detected a slight hint of disappointment. “But you are dissatisfied.”

“I am distressed at being kept in the dark about the fate of my sister.”

“I am informed that she has been relocated safely. Renraku always fulfills its obligations in that regard. You were advised of this through official channels.”

Sam recalled the two-line entry in his electronic mail. “I believe that the corporation has done what it considers its duty. But I don’t understand. Why can’t I contact her?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have repeatedly requested communications links with my sister. They have been denied. I have not even been given the postal code of the relocation center.”

“That seems unusual.”

“I thought so too, but I have been reluctant to bring my concerns to the Contract Court arbitration board.”

“My comp,” Sato ordered peremptorily. Crenshaw brought it, setting it on the table and unrolling the screen before turning it on and sliding it before Sato. He spent a minute tapping on the keyboard.

“There is no record of these requests in the files.”

“How can that be possible?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Indeed,” Sato agreed smoothly. “How?”

Sam scented danger. Sato had just told him that there was no official record of Sam’s attempts to contact Janice. Any complaint about the corporation’s inhumane response would not be supported by the Renraku Corporation’s correspondence database. He was being coerced into letting the whole issue drop. Never. He would never give up his sister. She was all the family he had left.

Sato confirmed Sam’s suspicions by saying, “Now you have come to me and, in a private conference, asked after your sister. I have told you that she was well cared for by the Renraku staff during her traumatic experience. She received all the consideration to which she was entitled under the law. You will receive regular reports and may undertake to send correspondence through the personnel office. There is no further need to trouble your superiors over this issue.”

“I understand,” Sam lied.

He really didn’t understand at all, but one thing was becoming clear. For whatever reason, he was deliberately being cut off from his sister, and somehow Sato was involved.

“I am glad that we understand each other, Verner- san. ” Sato stood, his sudden motion leaving Sam to scramble upright. “You may return to your duties.”

Sam bowed to Sato’s back. “I apologize for having taken so much of your valuable time, Kansayaku. ”

Having been dismissed, Sam had no choice but to leave. As he walked past the last painting in the entryway, he risked an impolite look over his shoulder. Sato had returned to his desk, absorbed already in something on the console screen. Crenshaw was standing by the edge of the dais, watching Sam with a grin of satisfaction plastered to her face. She seemed pleased. What had he done to earn her enmity?

His guard was waiting to escort him to the elevators. During the ride down to the lower levels. Sam reviewed the meeting. He felt sure there were levels of meaning that he had missed. Try as he might he couldn’t figure out the whys of the situation.

Hanae was waiting for him in the Level 200 lobby. She stood quietly beyond the barrier while a samurai from the guard station adjusted the screamer attached to Sam’s wrist. It would alert security if he strayed from those portions of the arcology that had been deemed suitable for one of his position and security rating. He was forbidden from entering the upper reaches until summoned again. As soon as he passed through the detector arch, Hanae, her face full of expectation, rushed up to him.