Code of Conduct (11 page)

Evan looked at Jani, the shine in his eyes almost feverish. Dying for a drink, probably, but he wouldn't take one while she and Ridgeway were there. “The fact is, Risa, my late wife was suborned by her unfortunately not-late aunt to serve as an in-House verifier. How Ulanova managed to work
around Lyssa's swan dives off the sobriety shuttle is anyone's guess, but Colonel Doyle and Durian uncovered evidence that, for the past several years, my loving spouse kept Exterior well informed of the goings-on here.”

Jani pondered that kernel of information.
He kept that from me because he knew if he told me, I wouldn't have come
. “How much of worth could Lyssa have revealed? You didn't use her as counsel, did you?”

“Not per se. But I underestimated her influence, her access, her—”

“Her hatred.” Ridgeway's voice tremored. “She hated us all. Blamed us all. Lyssa became expert at pointing fingers and slathering on guilt with a trowel.”

Evan pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “Durian.”

“It's true, Evan. No use denying it. She turned this House into a civil-war-in-a-jar. God, the lies she told, the people she sucked in. We had to purge entire divisions—we had Exterior-trained operatives running our departments! To tell you the truth, Ms. Tyi, we still don't know if we got everyone.” His metal stare raked her. “We don't know who could still be out there, lurking.”

Jani's stomach rumbled. She pressed a hand to it to quiet it. “I don't recall any of this in the files you gave me, Mr. Ridgeway.”

“I gave you what I was told to give you. Information about Evan.”

“Which was incomplete, as well.”

“Yes.” He didn't bother to explain or apologize. Those points worked in his favor, since Jani would have believed neither. “But now, it appears, the House is to be your oyster. Pry with care, Ms. Tyi. That's all I ask.” He rose. “I'll ear-mark the files we've deemed most noteworthy, although you'll want to see them all, I'm sure. Have you ever investigated a death?”

“No.”
Not officially
. “I've stuck with paper crimes.” The memories of her Service work nestled under Jani's ribs, a bundle of warmth. Or maybe it was heartburn? “Just show me the paper—I'll take it from there. And if I need your help, Mr. Ridgeway—”

“You will have it, of course. Make an appointment to meet with me this afternoon,” he said as he swept out.

Evan's groan rattled as the door closed. “It's going to take me days to settle him down. But it will have been worth it. He doesn't like you, but he will work with you.”

Jani stared at the closed door. “He thinks I'm an Exterior plant. Any slip I make, he's going to magnify tenfold.”

“Who's he going to bitch to? I'll take it all with a transport-load of salt. Virginia and the other execs will take their lead from me.” Evan grinned. The years fell away. “He's just jealous, anyway. Do you know what he told me? He suspects you're my mistress, on top of everything else. Thinks I've been keeping you under wraps for years.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Because I look so ‘contented,' as he put it. That makes him nervous. He likes hungry leaders. In case of a feeding frenzy, he's guaranteed a pile of scraps.” His smile wavered. “He saved my life, Jani. When all this hit the fan, I knew I could count on him. I know what he is, what he wants. But there were times when he could've hopped the fence with the others who followed Lyssa, and he didn't. Durian's thrown in with me for better or worse. That's more than anyone else has ever done.” He looked at her. “Of course, you would have stuck, if I'd given you the chance. But I listened to
him
.” Acton van Reuter's name, unspoken, hung heavy between them. “He chose Lyssa for me. Shows what he knew.”

Jani looked toward the balcony. The sun battered through the glass—even from where she sat, she could feel the heat. She'd wanted to throttle Evan only minutes before. Now a part of her just wanted to sit with him, look out at the sun-shine, listen to his assurances.

And fight back the other part of her that didn't believe a word of it.
Steve didn't like Lyssa
. He hadn't admitted it at dinner, but the assumption made sense considering his evasion of Jani's repeated questions. Had Lyssa asked him to assist her in her illegal fact gathering? Had he turned her down?

Had he?

Evan sat up with a start. “I'm actually at loose ends tonight. How about dinner, back at Private? I'll have cook do
something colonial.” He looked at her hopefully. “About seven?”

“Won't that upset Durian?” Jani stood and tried to readjust her ill-fitting jacket

“Screw him—I'm entitled.” He rose and walked around his desk.

“I think I can make it.” Jani tensed as Evan closed in and slipped his arm around her waist.
Like it never left
. “Saw your speech last night. I'm surprised Ulanova let you make it home alive.”

“She tried to buy me off. If I threw in with her publicly on the secession-rights issue, she'd disband the Court. Problem is, I didn't trust her to keep her word. I also believe she's wrong.” Evan opened the door for her, looking out to see whether his staff had arrived. “Seven o'clock, then.” He pulled his arm away as voices drifted toward them. “Considering what else you've learned, I'm happy you're still talking to me.”

“I didn't think I would be,” Jani admitted. “The fact your father was involved explained a lot, though.”

“Explained my rolling over and playing dead, you mean.” He eyed her guiltily. “What Lyssa did doesn't seem to bother you as much.”

“Vengeful behavior, I'm more familiar with. I understand her feelings. With her training, she could guess what Martin went through.”

“Anything like what you've gone through?” Evan asked softly.

“Not the same thing, Ev. I could adjust.” She gave her duffel an absent pat, as though it were an overlarge worry bead. “When did you know?”

“Looking back, I'd say the signs were there from the start. I just didn't want to face it. I think I even know the day it happened. Dad dropped by out of the blue and took Martin out for ice cream. I've never been able to track where the actual implantation was done, though.” Evan slipped back into his office and waved to a pair of uniformed clerks who entered the anteroom. “Dad said Martin needed help. Right away, too, before things got out of hand. My son had shown
signs of taking after me, you see. Dad always felt I lacked a sense of purpose, just because it wasn't the same as his.” He gave Jani a last, sad smile. “Seven o'clock,” he mouthed as he closed the door.

Doyle handed over the House access codes with the eggshell grace of someone who didn't like being on the wrong end of the favor stick. Jani accepted them with a quick nod and a minimum of small talk, excusing herself when Doyle's questions drifted toward matters such as “which colony, exactly” had she come from?

She'd also deflected an invitation to brunch.

Not on my bones, you don't
. Jani rushed through the Security section, knowing her every move was being monitored. She stifled the impulse to stick out her tongue at a wall-mounted scancam as the front-desk guard coded her departure.

I bet Evan would love for me to find proof Ulanova had something to do with Lyssa's death
. That would give him the tool he needed to pry her and the PM off his back for good. Not to mention win Jani some breathing room. In the resulting scandal, who would care about her?

But that doesn't explain what Lyssa's death had to do with Knevçet Shèràa
. Unless Evan only steered her to that conclusion to get her to come to Chicago.
Remember the pragmatist—even if he does look great in black
. She used some of her new codes to slip into the controlled Finance section. The division cafeteria was small and, at this between-meals hour, sparsely populated. She loaded a tray and wedged into an odd-shaped corner table with a view of the hallway as well as the door. She was in no mood to be caught twice. She ate quickly, then sat quietly for a few minutes. Only when she
felt certain her stomach wouldn't reject her latest offering did she set out on her next project.

Arrange my appointment with Ridgeway
. She dreaded the prospect, but the outcry would be tremendous if she didn't show. She coded into the controlled-access lift, noting with relief that the floor indicator stayed lit.

Fixed the lights, I see
. Jani grinned at the bright illumination flooding her from above. She stepped into the same fourth-floor lobby she had visited the previous day. This time, the space was empty of both reporters and idomeni ambassadors. She headed down the widest hallway, looking for the largest offices with the best views.

Durian Ridgeway's, of course, proved to be the biggest of all, a commanding corner with views of both the Main House grounds and the lake. Jani made her appointment with a jumpy assistant, restraining an urge to pat the young man's hand when he made an incorrect schedule entry and wouldn't stop apologizing for what apparently constituted a Class X Commonwealth felony in domain Durian.

That task completed, Jani wandered. She checked names on doorplates, sneaked around empty offices, and brushed off curious guards and documents staffers by waving her access cards and sounding indignant—the time-honored way to get into places where one had no business being.

She was debating a visit to the third-floor parts bins when an unmarked door flew open and she found herself staring into Angevin Wyle's tear-stained face. She wore a rumpled Interior trouser suit. No makeup. Even her copper curls appeared tarnished and lifeless.
Bet I know your problem
, Jani thought as she reached into her duffel for more tissues.
A human chimney named Steve
.

Angevin snuffled and straightened her shoulders. “Hullo.”

At first, Jani felt tempted to make sympathetic noises and offer womanly advice. But her own love life had never been anything to brag about. Besides, if the well-bred Miss Wyle had displayed the Earthbound behavior Steve hinted at, she deserved to shed a few tears. “If Durian sees you like this, he'll have a fit.”

Angevin's chin jutted. “Durian can go drown himself.”

She hasn't gone completely over to the enemy, Hansen—
there's still hope
. Jani looked up and down the hall. “Where's a breakroom—you could use one. I want to talk to you.”

“Don't wanna talk.”

“Yes, you do. Besides, you need to pull yourself together. You look like hell.”

“Fuck you.”

“See.” Jani thumped Angevin on the back just hard enough to set her in motion. “You're feeling better already.”

They bypassed the crowded department cafeteria. Instead, Angevin led Jani down a dead-end hall and into a converted office furnished with mismatched castoffs. In one corner, a bandy-legged table held an ancient brewer, supplies of cream and sugar in cracked plastic containers, and a tiny cooler decorated with a scrawled snack schedule.

“Does Ridgeway ever come here?” Jani asked as she looked around.

Angevin shook her head. “Nah, he hates this place. Thinks it's a pit. He's been trying to have it closed down for months, tells us the regular cafeteria is good enough for everybody. But we block him. Durian can lord it over civilians as much as he wants, but try telling the head of Interior Tax Form Compliance that she can't have her coffee and doughnut wherever she pleases and you're going to have a fight on your hands.”

A few scattered souls already occupied the room, talking, perusing newssheets, rustling through paperwork. Angevin exchanged greetings as she led Jani to an unpopulated corner.

Jani sank into a semicollapsed lounge chair. “How far back does this room date? Since the Lyssa purge?”

“Yeah.” Angevin gave her a startled look. “It got to the point that the cafeteria…sometimes there just isn't a room big enough, you know?” She sighed. “They don't teach you how to deal with things like that in school.”

“Are the ones who come here still under a cloud?”

Angevin snorted softly. “If there was even a hint of an intimation of a possibility, Security met you at your desk and you were gone.” She sat back in her squeaky chair. “The ones who come here—it's just our way of giving notice that we disagree with how things were done. It didn't have to be
the way it was. Whatever happened to due process?”

“That only applies to official criminal charges.”

“Then whatever happened to letting people explain? Most of them thought they were doing official Interior work—that's how she set things up to look!” Heads turned in Angevin's direction. She blushed and fell silent.

“You're Ridgeway's right hand,” Jani said, “but you're accepted here.”

“I'm Hansen Wyle's daughter. That means something, from what I understand.” Angevin looked around the room. “Maybe if I hang here long enough, someone will tell me what that something is.”

“Considering how closely Ridgeway controls you, I'm surprised he lets you come here.”

Before Angevin could answer, the door opened and Steve Forell entered with a young woman in tow. As soon as she saw them, Angevin's eyes filled. “Excuse me,” she mumbled. Hands jammed in pockets, she exited just as Steve and his friend worked their way over to Jani's corner.

“Good morning, Ms. Tyi,” Steve said as he claimed Angevin's chair. “I hope we didn't interrupt anything important.” His look of wide-eyed innocence disappeared when he noticed his companion still standing shifty-footed beside him. “Crike, sit down,” he said, pushing the girl into the empty seat next to Jani. She was as tall as Steve, with straight ash blond hair hacked at chin length. She had overwhelmed her pointed features with heavy makeup. A sweeping dark blue skirt and matching jacket hung on her thin frame.

“I'm glad we caught you up,” Steve said. “I left you a message on your House line, but this works much better.” He tossed an exasperated look at the young woman, who sat rigid, eyes locked on his face. “This is Betha Concannon—she's Guernsey, too. She were also Lyssa van Reuter's personal documents examiner. I thought you might be interested.”

 

“It weren't official! She just used to have me check things for her. Travel docs—stuff like that.”

In the friendly confines of Jani's Private House suite, Betha recovered both her voice and her ability to move. She paced,
activated lights, pawed bric-a-brac. However long the nervous energy had been building, it was all dissipating now. Jani hid the sculptures and other breakables and stayed out of her way.

Steve, meanwhile, prodded cushions, examined furniture, and stared at the Channel World artwork as Jani stashed it. When the poshness became too much to bear, he pulled out a nicstick. She could hear the crack of the ignition tip across the room.

Betha slowed until she fell onto one of the sofas. “It's not like she had me forge IDs or anything. She just used to have me check things, fill out forms.”

“What types of things, exactly?” Jani asked. “You mentioned travel docs. Were they hers?”

“For the most part. But a few of the things were old. Ten, fifteen, twenty years.” Betha cradled a pillow in her lap. Every so often, she gave it a squeeze.

“Colonial travel?” Jani asked. “Earth vicinity? Where?”

“All over the place. She went everywhere. Elyas. Amaryllis. Kim Chun. Most of the trips were to Nueva Madrid, though. Can't think why the hell anyone would want to go there. All that's there is a Service hospital.”

“Well, she was a physician,” Jani said. “One could have all sorts of reasons for visiting a prestigious medical facility. How often did Lyssa visit Nueva Madrid? Were the trips quarterly? Six months? Twelve?”

“Every five to six,” Betha replied.

“Over what time span?”

“Almost two years.”

“How was she before these trips? Excited? Depressed? Apprehensive? Did they involve business? Research?”

“Well, the papers stated she were acting as some type of envoy. Trying to help smooth relations between Neoclona doctors and the nonaffiliated med groups.” The rate of pillow-squeezing increased.

“Did that make sense to you?”

Betha shot Jani a surprised look. “Never really thought about it. I were just a drone in the Doc pool—thrilled to get the work.”

“Was His Excellency ever present when you put the packets together? To give his wife advice, go over the itinerary?”

“N-no.
No
. But they weren't getting on, you know—”

“Did you sit in on the planning meetings? Trips like these must have involved a great deal of strategizing.”

Betha glanced sideways at Steve. “Yes. A couple.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jani could see Steve shift in his seat. “Well, that's a good place to start.” She put an enthusiastic kick in her voice. “We'll have agendas, lists of people Lyssa would be talking to, ship crew lists.” She waited, her level gaze never leaving Betha's face. “I'm getting together with Durian Ridgeway this afternoon. If you can give me the dates of the meetings to which you went, I can have him get me copies of the minutes.”

Steve emitted a strangled groan. Betha kept kneading the pillow.

“No one knew about you and Lyssa,” Jani finally said. The sound of tearing interrupted her. “Months and months go by, coworkers all around you getting the hook,” she continued, as Betha surveyed the ripped pillow in mute dismay. “Yet you manage to scoot through the barrage unscathed. Pretty good maneuvering for a drone, considering anybody with any sense would have swept you out at first pass.”

“So Betha weren't the Lady's
official
dexxie.” Steve, who no longer appeared quite so smug, sat up straight. “He were shipped out to a colonial post during the height of the troubles. No one's heard from him since.” He pointed to Betha. “What did you expect her to do—turn herself in?”

“None of the paper you did for Lyssa went through Durian's office, did it?” Jani asked the sick-looking Betha. “At first, it was just a few small favors. She was, after all, the Lady. Maybe your ticket out of the Doc pool. Then, finally, after the favors began piling up, getting more and more complicated, more and more risky, you asked her what the hell was going on?”

“
Hey
,” Steve shouted, “I brought her here as a favor—!”

“Be quiet.” Jani turned back to Betha, who still clutched the ripped pillow. “That's when she threatened you. Told you what she'd do to you if you didn't keep your mouth shut?”

After a long silence, Betha spoke. “If you already know
so much, why ask me? If you already know what happened, what chance do I have?”

More of one than I did, when Riky Neumann cornered me
. “You filled out the travel docs for Nueva Madrid?”

“Yes.”

“You didn't register them or obtain Durian's approval?”

“No. She asked me not to. She said she'd handle it.”

Steve buried his head in his hands.

“In the meantime,” Jani said, “Lyssa went through her regular dexxie for another set of travels docs, the ones her husband and her staff knew about.
Those
were the envoy papers. Same times, same location, different purpose.”

“Yes,” Betha said. “She said if I told anyone, she'd make sure I got deregistered. At the very least.”

Steve cleared his throat. “You think the Lady were sick? Getting some type of medical treatment she didn't want the Minister to know about?”

Jani jerked her head in Betha's direction. “She vetted the return-trip papers, I assume. I think you should ask her.”

“I don't think it could have been anything serious.” Betha started picking out the pillow stuffing and worked the feathery foam between her fingers. “I don't have much experience in medical records—just my school courses—but I never saw any patient copies of referral documents, or codes for consultation summaries.” She shrugged weakly. “Besides, she never seemed nervous or anything. Once, she even said she were taking a vacation. ‘Going surfing, Betha' she told me. ‘Going to learn how to surf.'”

Jani felt the clammy grip of nausea that had nothing to do with food. She might not yet know who killed Lyssa or why. But she knew how. “How many times did she mention surfing?”

“Two, three times.”

Steve ignited another nicstick. “Does that mean something?”