Mark Tiedemann - Mirage

But, then, where was the real body?

Or was Eliton really dead?

Mia cleared her throat. "There's something else. I did a public data search on the connections between the various people in this and…" She hated her own reticence. "I found something that shouldn't be. Derec mentioned that Imbitek was doing the refit at Union Station. They started the next morning, after the attack, which is incredibly fast. I thought it had been an emergency appropriation that had been rushed through to meet the crisis, but I checked and found that the contract for the refit was part of the original deal for Union Station. When the contract was drawn up two years ago, Imbitek was the first company signed for work. There's a clause that gives them exclusivity in case of a failure."

"That sounds unbelievably foresighted. Or…"

"Or collusive. Senator Eliton-it was his committee that vetted the contract."

"Of course," Ariel said.

"It turns out that Eliton and Mikels have another connection. Mikels' son died in the military. At Ganymede. Eliton was the Brigade commandant on that action."

Ariel's eyebrows rose. "I had no idea that Eliton had been in the military."

Mia nodded. "Eliton and Mikels knew each other then. Eliton had arranged for Mikels' son to be transferred into his unit. Shortly afterward, Mikels gave him a significant share of stock in Imbitek. As far as I have been able to determine, Eliton never divested. There are nondisclosure restrictions on private actions dating back over fifteen years."

"Convenient. So Mikels and Eliton knew each other. And Eliton got Mikels' son killed. So what is this? Revenge?"

"I suppose that depends on whether or not Eliton is still alive. But if they hated each other, why would Eliton give this kind of a concession to Imbitek on Union Station?"

"Blackmail?"

Mia shrugged uncomfortably. "Which reminds me. You have an appointment to make."

Ariel looked at her quizzically. "Hmm? Oh, your acquaintance. Coren Lanra?"

"Correct."

Ariel went to the com. "Tell me about him."

"He used to be Special Service. He quit last year in protest over Senator Eliton's pro-positronic leanings. He's a committed anti-robot humanist."

"'Flesh, not steel'?"

"He wasn't quite there when he quit, but he works for Looms now."

"Why do you think he contacted me?"

"That's what we need to find out."

Ariel entered Lanra's code and waited.

"Lanra."

"Mr. Lanra, this is Ariel Burgess again." Mia started at the sound of Ariel's voice; she was making it rough and gravelly. "Where would you be comfortable meeting?"

There was a long pause. "Are you sure you want to? Your voice sounds-"

"It's been a long day and I've been talking most of it, Mr. Lanra. That's the kind of job I have. Now, if you please?"

"I see. All right. Um… do you know Sullivan's?"

"Very well."

"In… four hours?"

"How will I know you?"

"I know you. I'll meet you."

The connection broke and Ariel cleared her throat.

"Why'd you do that?" Mia asked.

"You and I don't sound that much alike. Now what?"

Mia looked at the assortment of devices Ariel had gotten, some from a specialty dealer Mia knew, others from her own embassy security people, and wondered if it would be enough. She picked up a transceiver pair and rolled the small beads around in the palm of her hand. They were good for several kilometers. She sighed and held them out to Ariel.

"We meet him at Sullivan's." Sullivan's occupied three floors of the Lexington-Coriolis Hotel and offered a view of the Mall just south of the ancient Lincoln Memorial. Mia could not remember now if the Memorial was one of the reconstructions or the original. A good part of the old Washington D. C. had been destroyed in the Riot Years, during which, among other things, robots were banned from Earth. It looked crowded and out-of-place beneath the enclosing roof that now covered all urban habitats on Earth. The Mall itself was an anachronism, a holdover of a time known now only to professional historians and a few antiquarian enthusiasts. It served more as a reminder that there had been a past than what that past meant.

Mia sat by the terrace on the second level, alone at a small table. She had been terrified when she stepped out of the embassy. Her leg still ached, but Ariel had gotten her painkillers and an adrenal analog in case she needed to move faster than she should. Still, she was not one hundred percent and she felt open and vulnerable.

But the terror subsided and it felt good to be out. She was Doing Something and it surprised her how much she had missed that feeling.

She absently scratched her left ear and pressed the small bead more firmly in. Ariel wore the other of the pair as a pin on her jacket.

The other tool Mia had brought along rested inside her jacket -a short, blunt tube that projected a jolt of electricity, enough to stun. She had wanted to bring a sidearm, but decided against it -this time.

"Ms. Burgess?" said a male voice through the transceiver.

Mia casually looked toward Ariel's table, in the center of the main dining room. Lanra stood there now, introducing himself.

"Yes?" Ariel said.

"I'm Coren Lanra, chief of security for DyNan Manual Industries."

"Pleased to meet you." Ariel gestured for him to sit. "I appreciate you coming to talk. I realize that you've got a busy schedule."

"I do, Mr. Lanra, so please make the time count."

Lanra grinned slightly, apparently surprised by Ariel's abruptness. "Yes, well. My employers are concerned at the reaction over the Union Station incident. Certain charges are being made. They fear arrests are imminent."

"And why would that be?"

"You saw the recordings? No one from our group was injured. Every other group suffered casualties, but not one of our people was shot."

"You make that sound like a bad thing. "

"In this instance, it is. We look very culpable."

"Are you?"

"No." Pause. "You don't believe me."

"I think I could accept that you aren't culpable, Mr. Lanra, at least not directly," Ariel replied. "But Looms has been railing against Spacers and robots since I've been here and, I'm assured, long before that. He's been very explicit in his desire to cut off all contact between Earth and the Spacer worlds and to stop the exodus of Settlers. Now, on the eve of a conference which would strengthen all those ties and possibly enable an even freer exchange of immigrants and ideas, he and his entourage are the only ones untouched by assassins, who themselves may be affiliated with a group in sympathy with Mr. Looms' own Church. Tell me that doesn't make a persuasive case against him."

Lanra nodded. "It does. It's almost perfect. And that should tell you that it's not true. How often does reality match up so well with appearances?"

"You have a different view, of course."

"Looms is on record as being opposed to any kind of technology that isolates people from direct control."

"True."

"Then why would he use that very technology to commit a crime for which he'd be likely to be implicated? And where would he get the expertise to implement it?"

"Expertise can be bought," Ariel noted.

"To what end? Close down a conference that might give him the best platform he's ever had from which to be heard?"

Ariel shook her head. "All you're doing is arguing motive, Mr. Lanra. There is as much motive to implicate him as there is to exonerate him."

"All right, what do you think was accomplished by this assassination? What was there in this conference that was so threatening that someone would commit murder to stop it?"

"A lot of tradition, a lot of credits, a lot of territorial imperative."

"All that, yes. But it's the money. Now ask yourself: what part of the proposed treaty was most likely to pass that would cost the most money."