Duplicate Effort Part 31

"You didn't hear anything, did you?" he asked, knowing his own voice was too loud. Romey shook her head.

His ears were ringing. He wasn't sure he knew where the message had come from.

He instructed his links to replay it.

"Ki Bowles's killers have come for me-"

The message was actually cut off. That was probably why it had so much sound with it. The sound amplified an emergency message, making it seem even more urgent.

He had his links trace the source of the message, and it only took a few seconds to get an answer back. Miles Flint. Nyquist swore. Romey looked concerned. "What is it?"

"See if you can find out if there's some kind of emergency with Miles Flint." Nyquist went to the end of the corridor where the police networks had on-screen access.

He looked for any emergency call with Flint and found one he didn't expect. Emergency call from the cafeteria in the law school at Dome University, Armstrong Branch from Talia s.h.i.+ndo (Flint). Call interrupted. Emergency call from the cafeteria in the law school at Dome University, Armstrong Branch from Talia s.h.i.+ndo (Flint). Call interrupted.

Nyquist played that back. Romey had joined him. Police! My father's being kidnapped! Help! Help! Help! We're at the cafeteria in the law library. Please help! Police! My father's being kidnapped! Help! Help! Help! We're at the cafeteria in the law library. Please help!

"I got several reports of an incident in that cafeteria," Romey said. "It came through many emergency links, including those weird ones issued to resident aliens. A few said that some guys took a man and his daughter away at gunpoint, and that the guys called the man Flint."

"c.r.a.p," Nyquist said.

"He's the one who contacted you?" Romey asked.

"It was broken off. He said Ki Bowles's killers had come for him and Talia."

"But we don't know who Ki Bowles's killers are," Romey said.

"Yeah." Nyquist frowned. "But we have a suspect."

"Illiyitch?"

"Justinian Wagner." Nyquist waved a finger. "You make sure that the responding officers at the cafeteria know how important this is."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm heading to Wagner, Stuart, and Xendor."

"You're not going alone," Romey said.

"You're staying here and coordinating the search for Illiyitch."

"I didn't mean me," she snapped. "Take a team."

He nodded as he hurried out of the interrogation area. "Don't worry," he said over his shoulder. "I will."

48.

Popova sat cross-legged on one of plush chairs. She was going through one of the handhelds and comparing it to a clear net screen that was open on a table in front of her.

DeRicci had a.s.signed Popova to search through the nut ball data-the saved information from the public nets-while DeRicci herself looked over the power glitch information.

She was stunned that no one had ever noticed these glitches before. They had occurred off and on throughout the last fifteen years.

The glitches might have occurred before that as well, but she was searching through that data. She only started with information from fifteen years ago, thinking that if fifteen-year-old information was stolen recently, maybe an attempt had been made earlier as well.

She found some longer glitches, ones that occurred intermittently throughout the system.

Initially, Armstrong's city engineers thought the glitches part of the aging environmental systems array, something that worried her almost more than the glitches did. Because, it seemed to her, the engineers were awfully calm about potential problems in the environmental systems, the only thing that kept Armstrong's residents alive in the harsh environment on the Moon.

But she had to force herself not to read the engineering reports. Instead, she had been looking at the number of power glitches since the dome's systems had been rebuilt after the bombing. If she had had to guess, she would have wagered that the number of glitches went down after the rebuild-and initially they did.

But about a year after the rebuild, the glitches started again. Only this time, they'd gotten worse. And they were concentrated on specific areas-sometimes down to specific buildings. "Rudra," she said, "can our techs back-trace these glitches?"

"Hmmm?" Popova looked up. Her eyes were bleary from looking back and forth at two different-sized screens. "Um, I'm not sure. I would a.s.sume so."

"Find out," DeRicci said, and looked back at the data.

She heard rather than saw Popova get up from her chair. Then Popova walked over to DeRicci's desk. "Before I forget," Popova said, "I found some of what's missing. It seems innocuous enough." "Write it up," DeRicci said.

"I will," Popova said. "But it's weird."

DeRicci looked up. She really didn't want to lose her concentration. She had numbers floating around in her mind-the number of glitches, the address of the areas where the most glitches occurred, the different types of businesses located there.

But Popova seemed determined.

So DeRicci sighed. "Go ahead."

"It's mostly names. People's addresses and backgrounds vanished from the public networks." "Everyone has the right to remove their name and address from the public boards," DeRicci said. "Remove yes," Popova said. "But not obliterate all traces of those names. And even stranger, before the traces were obliterated, every single one of those people came through the Port of Armstrong." DeRicci leaned back in her chair. Her breath had caught. She had to remind herself to breathe. "Every one of them?" she asked. Popova nodded. "Did they stay at the hotels that lost records?" DeRicci asked. "Did they bank at the banks?" "All of the people were from off-Moon," Popova said. "Still, some of our banks have branches off-Moon," DeRicci said.

"I don't know the answer to that. I didn't have time to check. But I would wager they stayed at the hotels. Most of them used the port again about two weeks after they arrived."

"They came into Armstrong, then left two weeks later," DeRicci said. Popova nodded. "What can you find out about these people?"

"That's the strange thing," Popova said. "I can't find anything. What vanished is work records, birth and death records, records of marriages or divorces. Mundane stuff."

"Anything unusual in it?" "No," Popova said. "They didn't even work for the same companies." "Did they come to Armstrong at the same time?"

"The first group did. About five of them, during that initial missing period. But they didn't seem to hang out together, and they didn't seem to know one another."

"Did they frequent the same places?" DeRicci asked.

"I haven't had enough time to look." Popova tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. Her hands were shaking.

She was clearly frustrated.

"We need more people working on this," DeRicci said.

"I don't know that, either," Popova said. "I mean, the data is years old. So why the hurry now?" "The glitches have increased in the past week," DeRicci said.

"Meaning what?"

DeRicci shrugged, and then she closed her eyes as a realization hit her. She should have been examining the glitch information around the time of the dome explosion. They'd never caught the bomber. Maybe these people whose information vanished were saboteurs or part of terror cells. Maybe the people who came in had some kind of horrible plan to harm-or even destroy-Armstrong. "Sir?" Popova asked. DeRicci opened her eyes. Her mouth was dry. She was making things up. She didn't have enough information yet.

But the information she did have was making her very, very nervous.

"See if these glitches can be back-traced," she said. "And if they can, make the traces a priority. I want to know who-if anyone-is causing this."

"Yes, sir," Popova said. "Should I bring in someone else to search the information?" DeRicci thought for a moment. If this was some kind of well-coordinated outside attack, then each glitch had meaning. And people with no history of trouble were causing the problems.

People with no history of trouble. Like the people who got vetted before becoming government employees.

"Not yet," DeRicci said. "If we need more eyes on this, we'll get them."

"Yes, sir," Popova said.

Popova was almost to the door when DeRicci said, "Rudra?"

"Yes, sir?"

"What do you think is going on?"

Popova bit her lower lip. "I don't like to speculate, sir," she said after a moment.

"Do it anyway," DeRicci said.

"It could be anything," Popova said. "From some kind of plan or plans against Armstrong to the placing of illegals throughout the city. I mean, what better way to become a part of a community if all you have to do is wipe out any record of your past, and create some new ident.i.ty?"

What better way indeed? DeRicci made herself breathe. Or, she suddenly realized, it could be a combination of both. People who shouldn't be in Armstrong establis.h.i.+ng new ident.i.ties-and then planning to do some harm.

"Thanks, Rudra," DeRicci said, effectively dismissing her.

DeRicci looked at the data in front of her. She hadn't yet compared the recent glitches to this week's crime reports.

But she had a hunch she'd find something-something she wouldn't like at all.

49.

Nyquist had never bullied his way into a law office before. He'd gone into doctor's offices and high-end brokerage firms. He'd arrested people in schools and restaurants and museums.

But he'd never gone into a law office on official business. At least not on business that involved a possible crime still under way.

He had a team of ten officers behind him. He used his "official business" line with the expensive android that guarded the door. He overrode the circuitry with his police-issued chips when the android wouldn't let him pa.s.s.

He had all of the officers draw their weapons as he hurried through Wagner, Stuart, and Xendor's large lobby, demanding to know where Justinian Wagner was.

a.s.sistant after a.s.sistant tried to stop him, and he wouldn't be stopped. He remembered how to get to Wagner's office. He used his chip again to override the privacy controls in the needlessly fancy elevator, and commanded it to hurry.

It moved faster than he wanted it to, and if he had anyone to confess to, he would have told that person that the speed of the elevator made him slightly queasy.

But it didn't get rid of the feeling of elation that had accompanied him from the moment he entered this place.

Even if his information-his guess-was wrong, he was enjoying this. He had a reason to be here.

He hadn't realized how much he hated Wagner, how much he blamed the b.a.s.t.a.r.d for every single painful day in that hospital, for each and every agonizing movement in physical therapy, for all those excruciating surgeries designed to rebuild him the way he had been before.

As if he could ever be the way he had been before.

The elevator stopped. He remembered the way that the doors opened onto the reception area, the way that Wagner's office seemed like its own fortress.

Well, Nyquist was storming that fortress now. Despite all the a.s.sociates gathered in front of the doors, trying to protect their boss.

"Detective," one of the a.s.sociates said, "I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement-" "And I'm sure we can't," Nyquist said. "Step aside, or I'll arrest you."

"You can't arrest everyone in the firm," said another a.s.sociate, a thin young woman with glittery eyes.

He stopped for the first time since he started his charge into WSX. "Of course I can," he said. "We have a report here of a kidnapping in progress. I can do anything I want to do. Now get the h.e.l.l out of my way."

They got. Leaving him and his team in front of that big black door.

Nyquist was about to open it when another a.s.sociate stepped in front of him.

"At least let me tell him you're here," the a.s.sociate said.

But Nyquist shoved him aside.

He'd tell Wagner himself why he was here.

And then he'd arrest the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, whether Flint was inside the room or not.

50.

"Hear me out," Wagner said, his hand up, as if Flint could flee from the sound of the man's voice. Flint had been listening to the man ever since they both realized that neither of them had killed Ki Bowles, and he didn't want to listen anymore.

He just couldn't think of an alternative. If he grabbed Talia's hand and burst out of the office, he'd get caught by those thugs again-and this time they might kill his daughter, especially after what Wagner had said about her.

Some people didn't consider clones human. Apparently Wagner was one of those.