Geosynchron (49 page)

"Looks like it's got much more than we need," said Petrucio,
heading over to the counter to grab an apple. "In fact, I think I might
move in here."

Gonerev smiled. "I'm sure you'll be clamoring to get out after a
few hours. So everyone take a seat, and Larakolia will run you through
the tactical systems." The fiefcorpers all found seats, Jara stopping at
the counter to fetch a cup of nitro on the way.

The tactical systems expert Larakolia epitomized the term lifer: a
small, thin woman, efficient and humorless, her skin a sandpaper color
that could let her credibly pass for almost any race. Jara was fairly certain this was one of the goons Magan Kai Lee had introduced in the
courtyard of the London nitro bar that drizzly December day. But
Larakolia didn't volunteer any previous acquaintance with Jara, and
the fiefcorp master wasn't quite sure how to ask.

The Council tactician walked up to the wall and stood in front of
the bank of viewscreens. "First, you'll have full access to the heads-up
displays on each of the team's battle suits," said Larakolia, waving her
hand briskly. One of the viewscreens morphed from a smooth black to
a pockmarked gray. "I suggest you keep this view up on both walls at
all times."

Robby squinted. "Why's it all gray like that? Is something
broken?"

The woman was obviously used to dumb questions. "The display
shows you the view from Natch's vantage point. Right now he's in surgery, so all you're seeing is the suit hanging on the wall."

"Oh." The channeler blushed, then grinned.

Larakolia stepped away from the wall and pointed at a different
section of viewscreen. "But you're not constrained to the suit user's
perspective. Each battle suit has twenty-four cameras embedded in the
mesh. The resulting composite image effectively gives you a full threehundred-and-sixty-degree view." She waved three fingers on her right
hand slightly, causing the camera angle to pan away from the wall and
show the interior of an ordinary-looking supply closet. "In fact, you've
got more than three hundred and sixty degrees." With another wave of
her fingers, Larakolia sent the view tilting upward to the corrugated
ceiling and then down to the tiled floor.

"Doesn't the Council have any cameras inside the building?" asked
Petrucio.

"Not a one," replied the Council tactician. "We have some exterior
views of the Complex and some aerial reconnaissance. But it's not
likely to be much help once Natch makes it indoors."

"Don't forget that the Kordez Thassel Complex was built by libertarian extremists," said Rey Gonerev, who had been standing next to
the balcony and gazing out onto the city. "The architects of that
building did everything in their power to make it inaccessible to the
Council. We're fairly certain they even falsified the blueprints on file
with the Twin Cities L-PRACG."

"Do we have access to those blueprints?" asked Jara.

Larakolia nodded. "You do. You also have access to the video surveillance that Merri and Petrucio conducted during their recent visit."

"And the personnel files I asked for?"

The Council tactician waved at a blank section of viewscreen,
causing the list of forty-six Thasselian devotees to cascade from the top
of the screen in a font that was legible across the room. Larakolia pointed at one of the names at random, causing a holographic cube to
pop out from the viewscreen with the photo of a hideously ugly bald
man hugging the left margin.

HENRY PULTROON

Age: 43

Last Known Position and Employer:
Bio/logic Analyst, the Deuteron Fefcorp

Home City:
Omaha

Larakolia continued drilling down through the data, causing box after
box to accordion out into the room. With every flick of her finger, a
whole new layer of personal information about the Thasselian was
revealed: complete work history, photographs, background, known
relationships, likes and dislikes, even the name of his ex-companion's
dog. Jara shuddered. She remembered when Rey Gonerev had hinted
that the Council knew about Jara's dalliances on the Sigh with that
mentally challenged Natch lookalike. She didn't want anyone outside
her immediate family having ready access to those kinds of details
about her. Especially not the Defense and Wellness Council.

Rey Gonerev seemed to sense the fiefcorp master's discomfort. Perhaps she too was remembering the intrusive research the Council had
done on Jara. "We don't usually have this much information about private citizens," said the solicitor. "But you wanted all the information we
could come up with in forty-eight hours. So we've had oppo research
teams working around the clock since Magan's council adjourned."

Benyamin had leaned forward to call up Pierre Loget's name and
was now busy scrutinizing the programmer's intimate relationship history. "As interesting as this is," he said, "what good is it going to do
us?"

Jara took a long sip of nitro. "I'll tell you in a minute. Larakolia,
why don't you go ahead and finish the demo."

The tactician spent the next twenty minutes walking the fiefcorpers through a blizzard of features and functions, most of which they
weren't going to need. They would get two-way encrypted communication with Natch's team, which the system would automatically transcribe, analyze, and index; they would be able to continually monitor
everyone's vital signs; they would be able to load black code directly
into the team's guns and bio/logic systems from here via the battle
suits, which would be convenient if the entrepreneur found himself in
a firefight. But if that were to happen, it would be a moot point,
because surely Brone would be aware of Natch's presence and the entire
mission would be for naught.

Then I guess we need to make sure that doesn't happen, thought the fiefcorp master.

When Larakolia finished the tactical systems run-through,
Benyamin led the fiefcorpers in a polite round of applause. Rey
Gonerev clapped briefly then turned to the balcony, preoccupied with
thoughts of her own.

Jara stood. "Now back to your question about the personnel files,
Ben," she said, walking over to a blank section of viewscreen on the
opposite wall. "Can you call up those blueprints of the Thassel Complex
for me, Larakolia?" The Council tactician dutifully summoned the architectural diagrams of the building and projected them in the space Jara
indicated. Seen from above, the Complex resembled some mutant breed
of lobster. The fiefcorp master made a gesture toward the blueprint and
caused another diagram to superimpose itself on top of the mutant lobster, this one full of diminutive red, blue, and purple squares. "The Oneon-One Motivation Network," said Jara. "Anyone heard of it?"

Petrucio Patel leaned back in his chair and stroked his mustache,
intrigued. "Targeted advertising," he said. "Frederic and I, we've used
them a few times."

"Not just targeted advertising," put in Robby. "Ultratargeted
advertising. Down to the individual, down to the time of day, down
even to the expression on your face." The very idea seemed to make the
channeler salivate.

Jara nodded in Robby's direction. "Correct. And their viewscreens
are in practically every corridor of the Kordez Thassel Complex, running twenty-four hours a day. We might not be able to get cameras
into the building-but we can get advertising onto any viewscreen we
want. It's all perfectly legal and above board. The Thasselians are hardcore libertarians-as long as we're the highest bidder, we can literally
take over all the advertising in the building."

Merri, unsure about the whole idea: "And what are we going to ...
advertise?"

"Whatever we need to. Whatever it takes." Jara walked over to
Robby Robby, put a hand on his shoulder. "You're a licensed channeler,
Robby. You must have access to large banks of advertising."

"Sure do," beamed Robby. "Millions of commercials, teasers,
promos, banners, tie-ins ... you name the product, there's an advertisement for it somewhere on the Data Sea in search of a viewscreen."

"Exactly! So here's how this is going to work. We watch on the
heads-up display as Natch walks down a corridor in the Thassel Complex. One of Brone's henchmen in the black robes approaches. We
quickly identify who it is using the Council's data banks and conduct
a spot analysis to determine what's likely to draw their attention. Then
we act as a third-party broker for the One-on-One Motivation Network. We make a winning bid for the viewscreen space and slot in our
advertisement. The whole process should only take about ten seconds.
The ad blares at top volume right as the Thasselian passes ... he turns
to look at the ad ... and Natch slips past unnoticed."

Robby Robby and Petrucio both appeared quite optimistic about
the prospects for Jara's little scheme, and Merri seemed noncommittal.
But as was his wont, Benyamin was staring at the blueprints of the Kordez Thassel Complex with overt skepticism. "Do you really think
they're all going to fall for something like that?" he said.

"Look, we don't need to actually persuade these people of anything,"
said Jara. "All we have to do is catch their attention. Just long enough
for them to turn around and stare at a screen for five or ten seconds
while Natch sneaks past. Don't forget there will be plenty of other
people around to distract the Thasselians too. He'll be disguised somewhat-not good enough to pass a bio/logic scan, but maybe good
enough to deflect attention for a few seconds. There will be the rest of
the special cps team. Natch won't be able to use MultiReal to get past
those guards-remember, flipping through choice cycles is exhausting,
and he needs to save his strength. Still, I think the chances of this
working are rather good."

"But-"

Petrucio came to Jara's defense. "You're thinking of this as traditional marketing, Benyamin. It's more like Pavlovian response. We
don't need to appeal to their reason; we just need to appeal to their
instincts. Find the thing that invokes that innate response to turn and
gape for just a few seconds."

"Like what?"

At that moment, one of the viewscreens on the opposite side of the
room burst to life. Creed Elan, the world's preeminent society of charity and
goodwill, is looking for a chief engineer! announced a stentorian voice. Help
us solve the world's ills, one biollogic programming bar at a time! Everyone
turned to stare briefly at the stock footage of figures in purple-andmaroon robes wandering across an assembly-line programming floorbut Jara felt vindicated that it was Benyamin whose attention strayed
the longest. He had only been distracted for half a dozen seconds at
most, but by the time he turned back to face Jara, she had slipped
behind him and stood at the opposite side of the room.

Robby, Petrucio, Merri, and Rey Gonerev exploded in laughter.
Even the straight-faced Larakolia couldn't resist a smirk. Benyamin blushed crimson for a few seconds before joining in the laughter himself.
"Okay, fine, you've made your point," he said. "But was that really a fair
demonstration? You knew I'd be distracted by that. My mother actually
worked on that ad, and I think Horvil applied for the position."

"Well, then," replied Jara, grinning, "we'd better start studying
these forty-six profiles until we know these Thasselians that well.
Don't think we have to be high-minded here-anything that will grab
their attention will work, and I mean anything. Explicit sex. Extreme
gross-out. Use their names, use their mothers' names, I don't care. So
long as it turns their heads."

Richard Taylor accompanies Natch to the surgery. "Not out of any
sense of worry or personal concern," the Pharisee is quick to explain as
they walk through Magan Kai Lee's encampment in Manila's warehouse district on their way to the medical building. "Not that you
should take that to mean that I'm not concerned! Because of course I
am. But no, I must admit that I've decided to come along because I
really don't have anything else to do."

"Where are Horvil and Vigal?"

"They're busy-terribly busy. Working with the big Islander and
the short programmer on the black code to use against Brone." Taylor
purses his lips and scratches at his beard as if an idea has just come to
him. Suddenly he leans back his head and bellows out a long, hearty
laugh. Council officers turn to stare, and Natch instinctively ducks his
head, still not used to the concept of men and women in white robes and
yellow stars being on his side. "Well, such is what they told me anyway,"
continues Taylor. "Perhaps they were merely looking for an excuse....
If you'd like an excuse as well, Natch, I won't take it personally. I suppose I can always go for another stroll around the City Center."

"No, no, it's okay." Natch isn't lying. He actually finds the Phar isee's naivete somewhat endearing, and his loquacious mannerisms
help distract Natch from the question that keeps prodding the back of
his mind.

Do I really have it in me to kill Brone?

He believes that's where things are headed, all of Magan's talk
about "incapacity" notwithstanding. Why else send this "special operative" in with Natch? If there was ever a time that Brone could have
been persuaded to make a reasonable compromise with the Defense
and Wellness Council, that time has passed. As long as MultiReal
exists, Brone will not back down from his Revolution of Selfishness.
Natch knows exactly what that's like; he has spent most of his life in
that frame of mind. In fact, even after all that Brone has done to himeven though Brone has tried to kill him-Natch can't help feeling
empathy for his old enemy.