Then Zero had asked her why.
Good question. Romy couldn’t say exactly. She wasn’t trying to make up for some past failings, had no hokey memories of an animal she’d mistreated as a child or a beloved pet who’d died because of her neglect or carelessness.
It was wrong, she’d said. As wrong as wrong could be. A stain on humanity that needed to be scrubbed away. How could she describe how every fiber of her being howled at the shame, the disgrace of it?
Fair enough, Zero had said.
He wanted her to stay in OPRR. Her position in the Division of Animal welfare would explain her repeated presence in areas sensitive to the cause. She might not have a legal right to be there, but as a representative of a government organization—an overzealous representative, perhaps, but a representative nonetheless—she’d have a plausible excuse.
That had been two years ago. Gradually, as she’d proved herself, she’d been allowed to learn more and more about the organization. First off, it was bigger than she’d imagined, and well financed. She knew only a few of its income sources—one of them had surprised the hell out of her—but the source of the bulk of Zero’s money remained a mystery.
So did Zero. Romy had done her damnedest to pierce his veil of secrecy. She knew from his voice—he didn’t use a distorter to disguise it—and from glimpses of pale skin at his throat and between his gloves and cuffs that he was a white male. But his age was indeterminate; twenty, thirty, forty—it was a guess.
One thing she knew for certain: He was intimately connected to SimGen.
He possessed information about the company only an insider could know.
As Romy slipped into the folding chair opposite Zero, she noticed a slim briefcase on the table between them.
“Two questions,” she said. “First: Don’t you think it’s about time I saw your face?”
She was used to the mask by now, but that didn’t lessen her frustration. Her early awe had given way to admiration, and each encounter increased her need to see the face of this remarkable man.
“Not until SimGen stops producing sims.”
“Somebody in the organization must know who you are. Why not me?”
He shook his muffled head. “No one knows. It wouldn’t be good for the organization.”
“Why not?”
“It might prove…disruptive.”
“Disruptive? How—?”
“Next question,” he said. “Which will be the fourth, by the way.”
Romy sighed. She’d have to wait. “All right. Did we instigate this sim union thing?”
“No.”
“Think it’s legit?”
“I fear not.”
“Well, doesn’t matter anyway. Legit or not, there’s not a chance in the world a sim union will happen.”
“I agree. But I don’t want a circus, and I don’t want a shyster collecting donations from sympathetic people and then disappearing with the cash. It will set a terrible precedent and very likely undermine support for a legitimate case when it arises.”
“Do weknow he’s a shyster?”
“No, but I’ve researched him and find nothing that leads me to believe he has the sims’ best interests at heart.”
“Who is he?” Romy asked, liking this less and less. “And where on earth did they find him? Attorney World?”
Zero lifted the briefcase lid and removed an eight-by-ten glossy color photo. He handed it to Romy. “Patrick Sullivan.”
She saw the head and shoulders of a decent-looking guy—not a hottie, but not bad—in his mid-thirties with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. But he was an attorney, a member of that vast slick crew using the letter of the law to circumvent its spirit.
“When was this taken?”
“Two days ago.” She gave him a questioning look and he added, “Part of the backgrounding.”
She repressed a chill, knowing Zero most likely had had people on her trail, photographing her before he’d made contact.
“He’s a ruthless negotiator, willing and able to go for the jugular, with no sign of regret afterward.”
“That’s good, isn’t it? I mean, as long as he brings that to the sim case.”
“So one would think. But what disturbs me is his apparent lack of any guiding principles. He’ll represent a union this week, management next, and be an equally passionate advocate for both. His voter registration says he’s an independent. A string of women have passed through his life with no lasting relationships. No pets. He subscribes to law journals, news magazines, andPenthouse . He has never given a dime to charity.”
“So Patrick Sullivan is a guy with no passions and no commitments. Doesn’t sound like a man who takes up a cause.”
“Not unless it pays well.”
“Probably has the ethics ofE. coli .” Romy could see why Zero was concerned. “What do we do?”
“We don’t interfere—at least not yet. Just as great literature can be created by an author writing simply to pay his rent, great good can sometimes be accomplished by people with less than exalted motivations. This Patrick Sullivan may simply be trying to turn a buck or looking to garner some cheap publicity. If that’s his goal, we’ll follow the progress of the case and see if we can turn things to our advantage along the way.”
“And if he’s an out-and-out crook?”
“We’ll be keeping a close watch on him. At the first sign of any funny business, we move.”
“Move how?”
“I’m not sure…”
The remark disturbed her. This was the first time she’d ever detected uncertainty in Zero.
“Something else I wanted to tell you,” he said. “You’ll be receiving notice soon that OPRR has succeeded in obtaining a court order allowing it to inspect the SimGen facility.”
Stunned, Romy could only sit and stare.
“Something wrong?”
“How…how did you managethat ? We’ve been trying foryears to get a look in there.”