Mark Tiedemann - Mirage

Mia was not so sure. She had seen the way people compartmentalized their ethics-things they would never do at home, they did effortlessly at work; politics they would never advocate in their personal relations, they applied ruthlessly in public affairs-so a "policy statement" from the head of a fundamentally revolutionary organization did not impress her.

But then Lanra returned to business and Mia saw what must have intrigued him. The consortium Lanra mentioned had approached Looms a year-and-a-half ago. The committee had been headed by Mikels. Till then, Looms owned stock in Imbitek. After the meeting, Looms divested-at a loss. Mikels and others in the consortium had evidently initiated a program to hurt DyNan. Looms had been forced to buy back majority control in his own company very quickly to defend against a takeover. It had cost Looms a good portion of his personal wealth, but as of two months ago DyNan was seventy-two percent owned by Looms.

It did seem that Looms was unpopular with Mikels and the others in the consortium. Nothing Lanra had been able to find told anything about the meeting or what it was Mikels had proposed that had so disturbed Looms.

But he noted that a politician had been in attendance. He had been unable to learn which one, only that it had been a high-ranking person, maybe a senator or vice-senator.

All right, Coren, let's take it as given that Looms had nothing to do with this… Mia thought.

Then the fact that none of DyNan's people had been injured looked very much like a set-up.

It occurred to Mia that someone would have to know who they were in order to make sure they would not be hurt. A list had to have gotten to the assassins, but the final list had not been completed till the day before. Last minute changes were even expected that morning. Who got the lists? Who made them? Who would have been in a position to get that information to the assassins?

And on the Spacer side? Had those been random or had there been a list for that, too? She remembered that on the morning of the Incident, Mattu, Gel, and she still had no idea how many Spacers were coming down from Kopernik. They would not have known till the Spacers walked out of the concourse…

Ariel's friend, Aspil. Was the corpse the real Aspil? If there had been an informant in their midst to send down the list just before they descended…

"Just how many people are involved in this?" Mia groaned. She looked down the alleyway and wondered where Bogard was.

Take it logically. It was beginning to appear that ten, twenty-a hundred?-people were involved. Perhaps there were a lot of bodies concerned-nine assassins at the very least, someone in the civic morgue, newsnet people maybe-but did they know anything about the larger conspiracy? Not necessarily. How many people need be involved? There must be a coordinator, someone to find the right people, the right data, and monitor everything. There must be a resource, for money, equipment, transportation. There must be a killer. Three people. The conspiracy looked manageable at that level.

Who would fill all those requirements, though?

Someone leaked the list of guests. Someone subverted the RI and otherwise circumvented security. Someone hired, prepared, and unleashed a team of assassins. Someone led those assassins.

And afterward? Someone was cleaning up loose ends. Could be the same someone who had leaked the list…

Movement attracted her attention and she looked down the alley.

The service door opened and an oversized drone rolled out. It was little more than a collection of boxes on tracks, moving in fits and starts. It seemed confused, almost comical. Then it came trundling down the alley toward her. Mia's pulse picked up.

Ten meters from the transport, the drone began to change. As Mia watched, it liquidly unfolded, rising in stature, slimming, losing the treads, becoming recognizably Bogard. She opened the back door and the robot slipped into the transport.

"Car, resume to fourth destination," she said.

The transport started up and backed down the alley, to the main corridor, and pulled into the light midaftemoon traffic.

"Hi, Bogard," Mia said pleasantly.

"Hello, Mia," Bogard replied evenly.

"How did you do?"

"I believe I have acquired everything requested." Bogard paused. "There is a problem, however. Derec has been abducted."

A faint smell of burning plastic brought him awake. Derec kept his eyes closed, remembering almost too late that he was a prisoner.

He concentrated on his other senses. After the smell, he noticed that his hands were bound-by a thin cord, from the way it bit into his flesh-and he was lying on his stomach on a pad of some kind. The air was cold. He heard distant sounds, like water dripping or the delicate rattle of tools in use, distorted by the space and the consequent echo. Then he heard footsteps, drawing nearer. The soles clicked on a hard surface, like concrete. He wondered…

"Hey, Bok," someone very near said, his voice tense with a forced joviality. And it sounded familiar.

"Shut up," the other-Bok, Derec guessed-said flatly, as though he expected to be obeyed.

There was silence.

"He's awake," Bok said then. "He didn't get that much. Mr. A very, I expect you can hear and understand me. Go ahead and pretend to still be unconscious if you want, it doesn't matter. Soon you won't be my problem anymore. But until then, let me inform you that if you try to escape, I will kill you without a second thought. The only reason you're alive now is because someone wants it that way. He could just as easily want it the other way. If we're clear on this, just continue to lie there as if you haven't heard a word I've said."

Bok walked away.

"Asshole," the other, familiar, voice said softly. Then: "Are you awake?"

Derec did not move.

"This is unbelievable," the other said. "Absolutely unbelievable." He sounded strained, barely in control. "All this was supposed to be… damn. No one was supposed to get hurt and after the station they told me it was over, no one else would get hurt, and then… this is unbelievable."

Now Derec opened his eyes. He lay on a thick pad, several centimeters from the floor, in some kind of stall. The light was dim and came from outside the small area, spilling over the contents unevenly. Across from him, sitting against a wall, was Tathis Kedder, his legs drawn up against his chest, one hand pressed flat against the floor, the other hovering by his mouth. He was staring out of the stall.

Derec recognized the space, then: the garage with the ambulances.

Kedder looked around and saw him. "You are awake." Kedder stared at him for a time, then seemed about to crawl across the stall to his side. He made the first move, then changed his mind and pressed his back firmly against the wall and shook his head. "This isn't my fault."

"What isn't?" Derec asked.

"This." He waved a hand at Derec, then at the garage around them. "None of this. I had nothing to do with this."

"Of course not. You only set me up to be abducted. Now it looks like you're in about the same position I'm in. Except you're not bound."

Kedder swallowed loudly and started shaking his head in desperate denial. "I am not like you. I didn't ask too many questions. I didn't scan where I wasn't supposed to. I did what I was told and nothing more. I shouldn't be here!"

Derec waited for Kedder to calm down. "So, why are you here?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

"I don't." Kedder glared, his eyes wide and moist. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and looked away. "All I was asked to do was to modify a couple of reports. It was research. That was all. Basic research, they said, the installation of a few extra components, nothing vital, attached to a couple of maintenance nodes. In the interest of-the money was very good."