Mark Tiedemann - Mirage

Coren Lanra, however, kept private offices closer to the heart of D. C., on the fourth floor of an old but well-maintained structure just off the Southwest Corridor, at the outskirts of the Infant District. The area was popular for lawyers and lobbyists and supported a large community of service industries that catered to the wealthier residents. In the mix one found research agencies, professional witnesses, independent forensics labs, physicians, therapists, a variety of technical experts, and private security firms. Mia had never learned why it was called the Infant District.

The transport parked in the garage opposite, and Mia stepped out onto the pavement. Her leg hurt like an old bruise, but she could walk normally again. The only thing holding her back was fear.

She crossed to the entrance, sweeping the immediate area for any sign of Service attention.

Lanra's office was in the middle of a row of eight along the hallway. No one sat behind the reception desk. Mia stood very quietly in the middle of the foyer, listening for signs of occupation, and slowly searching for evidence of an arrest. But everything was orderly, as if those who worked here had simply stepped out for a few minutes.

She went to the door marked COREN LANRA, I. S. I. and nervously pressed her hand against it. The door swung in soundlessly.

Seated behind a desk, Coren Lanra watched her, a vague smile on his lips. Casually, he gestured for her to enter, then put a finger to his lips.

When the door closed behind her, Lanra reached across his desk and pressed a contact.

"There," he said. "Now we've got maybe ten minutes before their AIs untangle my encryption." He smiled, a combination of genuine pleasure and opportunistic anticipation. "It's not every day the dead walk. How are you, Mia?"

"I've been better."

"I don't doubt it. Please, sit down. Since we're on a timer, we should skip the reminiscence and move to the important issues. Agreed?"

"Agreed. I have one question. "

"Only one?"

"The only one there is. Who killed Senator Eliton?"

Lanra spread his hands, then folded them together. "I wish I knew. The TBI wants to hang it on Looms. They've always had a fondness for morally committed outsiders."

"You're sure Looms had nothing to do with it?"

"Please, not you, too. No, Mia, it wasn't Looms. Let's not waste time on a false lead. Besides, I'm fairly certain you've looked into enough of the peripheral evidence to have another suspect. Am I right?"

"The assassins were Managins."

"Predictable. You think they did it on their own?"

"No."

Lanra nodded. "They haven't got the resources. The people, sure. The means, no. I'm still trying to figure out how they got inside Union Station with those weapons."

Mia hesitated, wondering how much to reveal, how much any revelation might tell a trained ex-Service agent by what it left out or implied. There was just too little time to be as careful as she wanted.

"The RI was subverted," she said.

He covered it well, kept his expression as neutral as he could, but there was a moment of puzzlement in his eyes, replaced almost instantly by surprise, then masked. He had not known. Lanra, at least, was not part of it.

"That's what we get for playing with this positronic crap." He glanced at his hands for a moment. "I thought it had just failed. So that definitely leaves out the Managins. They were the weapon, not the wielder. So, how are you pursuing this?"

"First, I want to know why you contacted the Aurorans."

"Process of elimination. I knew 'it couldn't be the Managins and I knew it wasn't Looms. Once the TBI started looking at us, I wondered where the Service was. They haven't asked a single question of Looms. When you were killed-" he cocked his eyebrows and grinned "-it started to look like someone on the inside. That meant someone in the Service was involved, so I couldn't go to them. The TBI won't listen, the local authorities could care less once the TBI take over. The official statement from the Spacers is basically wait-and-see, but one of the Aurorans is staying here to try to conduct the conference. I checked on her-a junior member, no experience and almost no authority. The rest of the survivors have returned home, leaving the embassy staffs here to clean up after the mess is finished making. All their actions indicate that they never knew this would happen-confused, disorganized, trying to put a good face on it. I decided not to talk to the Solarians because of their involvement with the RI. The Aurorans are as close to an objective party as we can find right now, and when I asked around to find out who was talking the Spacers living on Earth to stay put and not run, I hear the name Ariel Burgess. Calvin Institute. I started trying to talk to the Aurorans."

"You didn't call Burgess first?"

"No, I started at the top. I wanted to see who would be willing to speak to me as much as anything else."

"What about other corporate security?"

"Our competitors?" Lanra shook his head. "Besides, they're all amateurs."

"Underestimating your enemies?"

"No, keeping a handle on leaks. The biggest problem with amateurs isn't that they aren't good at the job itself, but that they brag about it. Usually to their employers."

"You think it's corporate."

"Don't you?"

"I can't see a motive. As far as I can tell, everyone stood to make a lot of money from this treaty."

"Legally, yes."

"I don't follow."

"You're looking at the wrong flow of capital."

"The piracy?"

Lanra grunted. "One of the things I miss about working for the Service is all the alternate labels the government puts on things. 'Piracy, ' they call it, as if ships in space chase each other, shooting, and the bad guys seize a hapless freighter against its will. Crap. It's tariff dodging, pure and simple, and if the treaty goes into effect, that ends. Frankly, as much as I hate robots, I can't say I'd be sorry."

"You're saying major corporations are behind it?" Mia asked. "There can't be enough money in it to make It worth the risk."

Lanra gave her a mock incredulous look. "Really? Mia, think about it. Earth exports to fifteen of the fifty Spacer Worlds and another twenty Settler colonies. Leaving out the Settlers for now, do you have any idea how much we're talking about? On average, ten to twenty billion credits per world annually. Now that's the legitimate trade. Out of that, the so-called piracy bleeds off about five to eight percent. Just to average that out, let's say that comes up to one-point-two billion a year that never gets to its destination. The current set-up prohibits Earth from directly trading with the other Spacer Worlds-the fifteen we export to are licensed to distribute to them, we aren't-and there's a stiff tariff system in place between them, not to mention the contractual arrangements on those Settler Worlds where there are also Spacer colonies. Black market merchandise easily commands twice to three times its legitimate market value, especially on merchandise not on the approved export list. So that eighteen billion credits' worth of 'lost' merchandise ends up on the black market fetching fifty to eighty billion in sales. And if the Spacers react predictably over these killings, you could see that figure double when they start raising tariffs and putting on more restrictions. And I haven't even mentioned the import black market or the fact that those 'stolen' shipments are insured. In total, I'd guess that you're looking at a two-hundred-plus billion credit illicit trade volume that could dry up if this treaty goes into effect. Now you tell me that profit isn't a motive."

Mia had known the black market was large, but not that large. Officially, it was estimated that the total volume came up to less than thirty billion credits. Still a substantial amount of money, but hardly enough to jeopardize a treaty that would have lowered tariffs and increased exports. But if Lanra's estimates were true, there was simply too much money in it to give it up easily. In fact, worsening the situation would seem even better.