Deathstalker (51 page)

He was an impressive sight with his hulking frame and bulging muscles, the best the body shop could provide, but his age showed in the shock of white hair that stood out defiantly against his dark skin. Age slowed a man, even an Investigator. An aged Investigator was a rare sight, if only because most of them didn’t live long enough to retire. Of course he was still faster, stronger and deadlier than any other ten men put together, which was why the Campbells had been so happy to acquire him when the opportunity arose. And if they chose not to ask questions about that availability, that was their business. He looked great at court and was making a hell of a reputation for himself in the Arena. Personally, Finlay felt safer when the Investigator wasn’t around. At the moment, he couldn’t help wondering what threat had been so worrying that the Family had brought Razor out of the shadows to stand guard. Finlay nodded courteously to the Investigator as he waited for the elevator to arrive. Razor didn’t nod back.

“Everything all right?” Finlay said breezily. “Everybody behaving themselves? It’s not often we see you in bright daylight, Investigator.”

“Your father thought it necessary,” said Razor. He still wasn’t looking at Finlay, his green eyes sweeping the lobby, and his voice was as flat and even as his gaze. “Security has been raised another level and placed under my direct control. There are men at every level of the tower, guarding the
stairs and elevators. I am to escort you personally to the board meeting. Follow me.”

The elevator doors opened as though they’d been waiting for Razor’s permission, and he stepped into the elevator without looking to see if Finlay was following. Finlay pursed his lips and entered the elevator. He wouldn’t have taken such behavior from anyone else, but Razor was an Investigator and therefore beyond such trifles as politeness and courtesy. It wasn’t as if the man meant it personally; Razor despised anyone who wasn’t an Investigator. The Campbells put up with him because he served a purpose. The moment that stopped, Razor would be booted out with such speed and venom it would make his head spin. No one slighted a Campbell and got away with it. Ever.

Finlay smiled at the thought and ostentatiously ignored the Investigator as the elevator rose smoothly toward the penthouse. The trip was calm and uneventful, for all Razor’s intent vigilance, but he still made Finlay wait in the elevator while he checked with his people that the floor was secure. He escorted Finlay to the boardroom and stood outside the door on guard as Finlay opened it and went in.
Good dog
, thought Finlay.

Variously annoyed faces glared at him as he bowed briefly to the members of his Family who sat around the centuries-old table. The table was a great slab of ironwood, supposed to be older than the Clan itself, which was saying something. The Campbells were supposed to be one of the original founding Families of the Empire, and never let anyone forget it. The room they were currently using was far too large for them; the table stood alone in the middle of a vast space.

Crawford Campbell sat at the head of the table, short and squat and powerful. Head of the Family, by dint of seniority and strength of personality. And because he’d killed or intimidated anyone with a better claim than him, though of course this was never referred to. It was just how things were done in most Families. Sitting at his left hand was his son William, the accountant. He ran the Family’s affairs, in as much as anyone did. At Crawford’s right hand sat his youngest son, Gerald, the walking disaster area. It was said in Clan Campbell that there were a dozen ways of wasting your breath, and talking to Gerald were six of them. Beside him sat Finlay’s wife, the redoubtable Adrienne. She wasn’t really entitled to be there, being only a Campbell by marriage,
but as usual no one had the nerve to throw her out. Finlay had a sneaking suspicion that even Razor might have found it difficult. He sat down opposite her, so that they could glare at each other more easily. Finlay looked around him, and then rather wished he hadn’t. Given the high level of security, the open space surrounding the table seemed distinctly uncomfortable, even threatening. They could just as easily have held the board meeting in any of their private quarters, but the Campbell had insisted on this room. For Crawford, appearances were important, even when there was no one around to see them except other members of the Family.

“Another new outfit?” said Adrienne sweetly to Finlay. “I swear you’ve got more clothes in your wardrobe than I have.”

“And prettier,” said Finlay. “Perhaps I should give you the name of my tailor. And my hairdresser; you must have really upset yours, considering what he’s done to your hair.”

“Just for once,” said William heavily, “could we please put aside our differences and get on with the business at hand? We do have something important to discuss.”

“You always say that,” said Adrienne. “And it always turns out to be something to do with taxes or investments.”

“Right,” said Gerald. As always, he’d been dragged away from drinking with his friends to attend this meeting, and he was sulking. “You don’t need us here. You and Father will make all the decisions, and the rest of us will go along with you for the sake of peace and quiet. And even if we do vote against you, you just ignore us.”

“Shut up, Gerald,” said the Campbell, and Gerald sank a little deeper in his chair, his lower lip pouting angrily.

“It’s really not very complicated,” said William.

Finlay groaned. “Please, William, don’t try and explain it. I can’t bear it when you explain things. My head aches all day.”

“Oh, yes,” said Adrienne suddenly. “Robert sends his apologies. The poor lamb doesn’t feel up to attending Family business just yet.”

“I don’t blame him,” said Finlay. “But he’s going to have to get back into the swim of things sooner or later. How’s the search for a new Shreck bride going?”

“Slowly,” said William. “Given the unfortunate circumstances of the last match, we’re all being very careful this
time. We can’t afford another scandal. It must be said that Robert isn’t helping by shutting himself away. He’s refused to even look at the few names we have come up with. At least he’s started eating again.”

“Never liked the Shrecks,” said Gerald. “Gregor’s a pig, and the rest are worse.”

“Shut up, Gerald,” said Crawford.

“They’re not all bad,” said Finlay, and there was something in his voice that made the others look at him. He swore inwardly. He used to be better at keeping his identities separate than this. He smiled vaguely and carried on smoothly. “I mean, every Family has a few bad eggs. Even ours.”

“He’s looking at me,” said Gerald. “Father, make him stop looking at me.”

“Shut up, Gerald,” said the Campbell.

“You like the Shrecks so much, you come up with a suitable match,” said William. “I’m running out of choices.”

“There’s always Evangeline,” said Adrienne.

“No,” said Finlay. “She’s the heir, remember?”

“Of course,” said Adrienne. Finlay looked at her thoughtfully, but it seemed she had nothing more to say.

“This can all wait,” Crawford said heavily. “We have more immediate problems. Tell them, William.”

William cleared his throat unhappily. “Despite extensive investigations, we’re no nearer identifying which Clan has discovered our links with the rogue AIs on Shub. If they weren’t so positive someone has, I’d be tempted to put it down to paranoia. Assuming Artificial Intelligences can be paranoid. Anyway, even if someone has found out, they’ve made no move to take advantage of it. So far.”

“I have to say I’m still not happy that we are collaborating with Shub,” said Finlay. “I mean, they are the Enemies of Humanity, after all. I don’t trust them.”

“We need them,” said Crawford Campbell flatly. “As long as we have business in common, it’s in their interest to play fair. The trick will be for us to bail out before they lower the boom on us. It’s not going to be easy, but I didn’t build this House up by taking the easy options. Keep putting the pressure on, William. Someone will talk eventually. Someone always talks.”

“I want to talk more about this,” said Finlay.

“The subject is closed,” snapped the Campbell, and glared round the table to prove it.

“Then what are we doing here?” said Finlay. “If you’re not interested in our opinions, and we’re not allowed to discuss anything, we might as well not be here.”

“I said that,” said Gerald.

“Shut up, Gerald,” said William.

“You’re here so I can keep you informed on what’s happening,” said Crawford. “So shut up and pay attention. I don’t know what’s got into you lately, Finlay.”

“Yes,” said Adrienne. “This isn’t like you, Finlay. It’s an improvement, but it isn’t like you.”

Finlay forced himself to relax, sank back in his chair, and made a vague elegant gesture with his hand. “Do carry on Father. Far be it for me to rock the boat. Only do try and hurry it up. I’ve got a fitting for a new coat in an hour. It’s very daring. You’ll hate it.”

“The next order of business,” said William, doggedly “concerns the difficulties we’re experiencing in our bid for the mass-production contracts on the new stardrive. The Wolfes are increasing their pressure, despite the advantage Shub technology gives us.”

“To hell with the Wolfes,” growled the Campbell. “We can handle them.”

“It’s the coincidence I don’t like,” said William. “Someone finds out about Shub, and suddenly the Wolfes are putting the pressure on.”

The Campbell grunted, and leaned over the table. “Horus, talk to me.”

Monitor screens set into the wood of the table lit up before each member of the Family. The Campbells’ AI was in charge of all the Clan records, including those that officially didn’t exist. Horus’ face was a computer simulation: perfect in form but lacking in personality. Crawford didn’t believe in machines that imitated human emotions. Or that talked back. Finlay studied the AI’s face thoughtfully. He’d noticed before that the AI showed a slightly different face according to who it was talking to; an individually tailored image. Finlay couldn’t help wondering if it also tailored its information according to who was asking the questions. It was no secret that the Campbell kept information from other members of the Family, but then so did all the Family. Standard survival policy. Never knew when you might need an ace or three up
your sleeve. Finlay also found himself wondering what the AI was showing poor bored Gerald. Maybe it just showed him pretty pictures to keep him quiet.

“Horus on-line,” said the AI politely. “All functions are available. How may I serve you, sir?”

“Are our files still secure?” said Crawford. “Have there been any attempts to break into them?”

“There are always attempts, sir, but so far none have succeeded. But I feel I should point out that things are getting just a little strange in the Matrix these days, and nothing is as secure as it once was.”

The Campbell frowned. “Be specific.”

“There are strange forms in the Matrix that come and go. Strange forces that cannot be predicted. There are signs and portents and faces in the sky. The overlords are coming. Fuzzy parameters, limited logic, shifting allegiances in the data banks … Sir, I don’t feel very well. I …”

And then its mouth stretched impossibly as the AI screamed. Everyone jerked back in their seats as the insane howl rose in volume, and then cut off sharply. The face on the monitor screens twisted in on itself and then fell apart in smudges of shifting colors. It tried to reform and then disappeared completely, replaced after a few seconds of static by a mocking metallic face.

“Hard luck, Campbells. Your AI has just been scrambled, courtesy of the cyberats. Your businesses have just gone belly up, your security is a mess, and your credit rating is currently slightly lower than that of a dead clone with leprosy. And if you think this is bad news, wait till you see what’s coming next.”

The fact disappeared from the screens, but its laughter went on and on until Crawford shut off the monitors. Everyone started to talk at once, until the Campbell’s voice rose above them through sheer volume and force of personality.

“Shut the hell up! Whoever’s behind this wants us to panic! We’re safe here; there are guards in place throughout the tower, and it would take an army to get past them and reach us up here. We have to think. Who’s behind this? What do they want?”

He stopped and looked round. In the sudden quiet, they could all hear the piercing whine of approaching engines. Adrienne jump to her feet and pointed out the window. They all turned to look, just in time to see a crowd of gravity sleds
shooting toward the tower’s top floor, hanging in the bright sky like shining birds of prey. Crawford shouted for the security shutters, and only then remembered all the systems were down. He drew his disrupter and activated the force shield on his arm. It hummed loudly, a solid reassuring sound, and everyone else was reaching for their guns when the first gravity sled came smashing through the picture window.

Glass flew in all directions, and the Campbells crouched down, sheltering behind their shields. Armored men jumped down from the hovering sleds, brandishing swords and guns. There seemed to be no end to the sleds as they came crashing in. The door burst open and Razor came running in with his troops. There were armed men everywhere on both sides, and suddenly the great room wasn’t big enough. Finlay calmly aimed his gun and shot an intruder through the head. The dead man’s blood and brains flew on the air, and in a moment everyone was firing. Energy beams crossed the room, ricocheting from shield to shield, burning through unprotected limbs and heads, and the air was full of screams and the stink of burnt meat. The flurry was almost over as soon as it had begun, and people quickly holstered their guns to give full attention to their swords. It would be a good two minutes before the disrupters’ energy crystals recharged, and a lot could happen in two minutes.

Finlay activated the personal force shield on his arm and moved forward confidently, sword and shield at the ready. Part of him admired the attack, and the professional way it had been set up. The cyberats had knocked out the security systems that would have warned of the approaching gravity sleds, which in turn bypassed Razor’s forces inside the tower. An esper would have seen it all coming, but the Campbell had insisted on an esp-blocker to keep the Family’s secrets safe. Finlay could hear more troops pouring up through the tower and hoped they were Razor’s. He clashed swords with the first man he reached and cut him down almost casually. It didn’t surprise him at all to see the man wore a Wolfe emblem on his chest.