“It got a huge rating. The actor playing me looked like a sumo wrestler for heaven’s sake. They got you about right, though. Anyway, Mellanie won a lot of media attention; certainly locally, so Alessandra Baron took her on as Oaktier’s rep for her show. She’s actually quite good. I think she’s got her own personality line as well; all the usual crap, swimwear, holograms, monthly TSI releases, scents, food, there’s even a Murderous Seduction cocktail. She’s got quite a fan club these days.”
“Strange, she didn’t seem the type. I don’t normally underestimate people so poorly.”
“Yeah, there’s some politicians she interviewed who made that mistake when she started out. They don’t anymore.”
“And she’s been showing the Venice Coast recordings?”
“Every news show has. I just watched her because she gets the decent interviews; it was one of Rafael Columbia’s deputies, I think.” He gave Paula a cautious glance. “Mellanie was really pressing the point about how you kept fouling up the Johansson case. Her words.”
“I’m sure.”
“So where do I tie in with what happened on Venice Coast?”
“This is not public knowledge, but not all of the equipment Rigin was collecting got destroyed in the blast. Several items were being stored downstairs. We managed to retrieve them.”
“What kind of items?”
“One was a very high-power superconducting microphase modulator. Its regulator software was modified by a fix that apparently came from the Shansorel Partnership, that’s a specialist software house right here in Darklake City. Elvin couldn’t have placed a regular order for it, this is really technical stuff. They would need an expert brief. And, Hoshe, they would have known it wasn’t a legitimate contract.”
“What was the modulator used for?”
A slight frown crossed Paula’s forehead. “We’re not sure. The best guess forensics could come up with from the items we know were delivered is some kind of customized force field. Though that doesn’t explain half of the components.”
“Okay, so you want me to look into the Shansorel Partnership?”
“Please, yes.”
“What exactly am I hunting for? And how much pressure do you want me to put on these guys?”
“I want to know how deep their connection with Elvin goes: if it’s long-term, or if they were just short of money one time and took a no-questions contract to get the bank off their backs. I’m hoping for the long-term, of course, that way I can run a deep-cover tracker on their contact with Elvin’s team. How you want to play it is up to you, there’s always a weak link in any group of people. See if you can find which one it is in Shansorel, and make them sweat.”
“Okay. But I’m puzzled by this. You’re going after Elvin. How does that help you with the Agency’s internal leak?”
“Standard elimination entrapment. Each suspect is given a different piece of information in isolation; then I sit back and see who reacts.”
Decades ago Thompson Burnelli had made a huge mistake. He assumed that because he was a man and relatively fit, that because his reach and strength gave him an advantage, he would beat Paula Myo at squash. He was good at squash—no false modesty. Whenever he was in Washington, he would visit the Clinton Estate, his ultra-exclusive social and sports club, where no small percentage of Intersolar government business was conducted. Two or three times a week he would play his fellow senators, or their aides, or some committee chair, or a Grand Family representative. Standards were high, and the Estate’s professional was an excellent coach if any part of his game should slip.
With Paula Myo he learned that placement and precision was everything. She barely moved out of the center of the court, from where she sent the ball slamming into places he wasn’t—every time. He had staggered out afterward, red-faced, slick with sweat, and fearing for his pounding heart. It was eleven years before he finally won a game; two years after a rejuvenation when he was at his absolute physical peak, while she was due into rejuvenation in another three years. So their cycle continued over the decades.
Right now, she wasn’t ten years out of rejuvenation, and he didn’t care about points, his only concern was to avoid a coronary before he lost, dashing from one side of the court to the other chasing after her calm shots. Anyone else he played who lacked perhaps his status or seniority—aides, lobbyists, new senators—would allow him to win the odd game. Not every game, but enough to make him feel good. It was simple politics. That would never apply to Paula. It took him a while, but eventually he worked out why. Throwing a game would be dishonest, the one thing she could never be.
When the torment was over, he grabbed a towel and wiped the rivers of sweat from his face. From the ache in his leg muscles he knew he was going to be stiff for a week. “See you in the bar,” he groaned, and slowly made his way to the sanctuary of the gentlemen’s locker room.
Forty minutes later, with at least some of the pain eased by a hot massage shower, he walked into the bar. The Clinton Estate was barely two and a half centuries old, but from the darkened oak paneling and high-backed leather chairs the bar could have dated back to the late nineteenth century. Even the staff looked the part, dressed in their scarlet jackets and white gloves.
Paula was already sitting in a big leather wing chair, in one of the bay windows that gave a sweeping view out over the Estate’s formal gardens. With her smart suit and perfectly brushed hair reaching just below her shoulders she had the kind of easy poise that women from the Grand Families spent decades trying to achieve.
“Bourbon,” Thompson told the waiter as he eased himself into the chair opposite her.
A light smile touched Paula’s lips at the tone of the order, as if she’d scored another point.
“So did Rafael give you a hard time over Venice Coast?” he asked.
“Let’s say I was made aware he was unhappy. People see it as another victory for Elvin and Johansson over me; they are quite blind to what it actually signifies.”
“That we have a new player in town.”
“Not new. But one that has become visible for the first time.”
“You still believe there’s a mole in the executive office?”
“Or a Grand Family, or an Intersolar Dynasty. You’re the ones with the permanent connections, after all.”
“Rumor in the Senate Hall dining room is that you told Mel Rees it could be the Starflyer.”
“It is a possibility.”
“I’m sure it’s logical, but, Paula, it’s not popular. Just so you know. There are some planetary parliaments who have elected people who support the Guardians, not many, and it was all proportional representation votes. But the fact that anyone like that can gather support is worrying.”
“Oh, I know it’s not popular. It’s not something I’m actively pursuing.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I can’t do my job if I don’t have a job.”
Thompson greeted the arrival of his bourbon with a relieved grin. “We all get backed into corners. I’m sorry. It must be especially hard for you.”
“I said actively pursuing. As the old prison saying went: they’ve only got your body behind bars.”
“I see. So what can I do to help?”
“I need to know if there really is a secret security section which is only answerable to the executive.”
“No, there isn’t. And I should know, our family actually predates the Commonwealth. I can check with my father to be absolutely certain.”
“Please do. It is important.”
It wasn’t what Thompson expected, nobody ever questioned him; but then that was what made Paula so refreshing. They had started their association all those years ago with a quick exchange of information: she was after one of the Zarin Prime Minister’s staff, while he was trying to steer a bill on infrastructure tax credits through the Senate, which Zarin was opposing. Ever since then they had swapped facts and gossip on politics and criminals. Thompson wasn’t sure if they were friends, but the relationship had certainly been rewarding for both of them. And he knew he could trust Paula implicitly, which was just about unique in the circles he moved through. “Okay. What if there is? Will you try and arrest the President? Poor old Doi only just got in, and that was on a miserable percentage.”
“The fact that Columbia hasn’t blocked the Venice Coast investigation suggests that situation won’t arise. I’m just eliminating possibilities at this stage, that’s all.”
“Then let me tell you that I don’t know of any Grand Family who’d do such a thing. We’ve no reason to; Far Away and the Guardian terrorists don’t have any impact on our activities and money.”
“Which leaves us with Nigel Sheldon.”
“Who you will never arrest.”