The Administration Series (235 page)

He told Sara about the house-warming party as soon as he arrived at I&I the next morning. Predictably, she thought it was wonderful.

"Who's coming?" She grinned. "Other than me, of course. I have to be there, just in case he's got any rich single friends I haven't met yet. Do you want me to tell people?"

"Yeah. Tell anyone on the regular team who's free — don't bother with the new pool lot. Mention it to Chevril, tell him to bring Ellie. And . . . "

Who else should he invite? Mike Belkin, maybe? And his wife, he supposed, except that Toreth had no idea of her name. He'd met her maybe twice, and all he remembered was that she was mousey and bruised. Then there was Bevan, who might be married at the moment — he often was. Daedra, Christofi, Liz Carey . . . I&I acquaintances, not friends.

Toreth had a sudden vision of Warrick's flat filled with I&I faces — all his regular drinking crowd, which was what Sara meant by 'people'. Few of them were people Warrick would want there. Nor were any of them witnesses Toreth wanted to his official inauguration as corporate pet. Which was now less than a week away.

Shit. His heart was beating far too fast, and he wondered vaguely if the idea of actually moving in was going to give him his first ever non-phobic panic attack. Or maybe this counted as a phobia too. What was the medical name for a fear of new flats?

"Toreth?"

He blinked at her. Not surprisingly, she was looking at him curiously.

He was about to tell her to keep it within the team, maybe including Chevril, when he paused. Why the hell shouldn't he invite people? Warrick kept saying it was
their
flat. Fine. Then he'd treat it like his, and fuck Warrick if he didn't like it. And fuck anyone at I&I who wanted to make cracks about his rich corporate.

The resolution seemed to dilute the panic down to manageable proportions.

"Keep it down to a dozen or so and try to avoid the ones who throw up and start fights. Send the names along to Warrick when you've got an idea of who's coming — we don't want security shooting anyone not on the list." He paused, then smiled at the image. "Well, you could leave a couple of people off."

Sara smirked back. "I can think of a few I wouldn't miss. So — " She paused.

"What?"

"So . . . you're really moving in there?"

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?" he asked with determined cheerfulness. In a few months he'd look back at all this and think what a fucking idiot he'd been to worry about it. "Right, since the Administration was still paying us last time I checked the account, what have we got on today?"

Sara gave him an odd look, then turned to her screen. "The Isinpharm corporate burglary is looking very good. Justice got the main suspect last night."

"Justice?"

"Yep. He was at a squat where they picked up a dozen indigs in a random illegal pharmaceuticals raid. His description came up on the ident system — which is the first miracle, with the problems the system's had — and they held him in situ,
and
they didn't mess up the crime scene. Nagra was on call, so she went out with — " Sara frowned and paged down a couple of screens before she gave up. "A couple of pool investigators. None of them stay around long enough for me to remember their names."

Short-staffing was still crippling the section; pool staff were assigned for the exact time they were required and not a minute longer. That made it extra nice of Justice to be helpful for once.

"Well?" Toreth asked. "Did she find anything?"

"Yes. All the stolen pharmaceuticals, plus the matching formulation data. But this is the really good part — while Nagra was there, the corporate sab contact turned up to collect the stuff and pay. Somehow he managed not to notice two Justice cars parked in plain view down the street, and he walked right into the middle of it with a case full of cash."

"Stoned, probably."

"That's what Nagra reckons. Because Nagra was there, there weren't any arguments about who gets the arrests. Our two prisoners are downstairs. The corporate sab has three previous arrests, no convictions, so there should be no problem with a decent damage waiver."

This, Toreth reflected, was why he liked his team. Juniors who solved his cases for him before he even got to work were just what he tried to recruit.

"Nagra went home to bed about six-thirty," Sara continued. "But she left a lovely IIP. In my obviously totally unqualified opinion, it's pretty much wrapped up. Except . . . " She raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

Except that there were no interrogation staff free to have a nice, friendly, new P&P-style chat with the prisoners.

"Okay, I'll do it."

"Before you do, the news about Isinpharm got back to Tillotson already, and there's a new IIP filed for a corporate kidnapping. No ransom so far, but there are some forensics that look quite promising. All the files are here, and there are a few witnesses to talk to."

He considered. "Tell B-C to take charge of the kidnapping for now and he and Mistry can carve up the interviews however they think is best. I'll do the interrogations this morning and then join in."

As he went through into his office, he caught himself whistling.

"I'll be moving out on the thirtieth," Warrick told Asher as he closed her office door behind him. "And Toreth suggested Saturday the fourth for the house-warming, if you're free."

"I think so — I'll check with Greg."

In the corner of her office, the last few drops of a fresh brew were splashing quietly into the pot. The rich smell reminded him that his caffeine levels were far too low for a weekday morning.

"Do you want a coffee?" Warrick asked.

Asher smiled. "Aren't I supposed to ask you that?"

"Yes, but I can't wait for you to remember your manners."

"Pot, kettle," she said as she stood.

"I didn't manage to find time for a cup this morning." And with only one of them there, the idea of making coffee had seemed oddly pointless. Ridiculous, when he'd drunk morning coffee in solitude for years.

"What's that?" Asher asked, nodding towards his hand.

He held up a large airtight box. "I brought biscuits. Ginger, shortbread, chocolate chip, double chocolate chocolate chip, and those unnamed coconut-chopped walnut-syrup-crisp things — Jen's recipe. All homemade."

"Good Lord. In that case, definitely coffee. I'll pour it."

He took one of the low upholstered chairs. Asher set the cups on the table and sat opposite him. Sipping his coffee, Warrick watched her pick out a couple of biscuits. They hadn't been a deliberate attempt to bribe his fellow director into a good mood, but they couldn't hurt. He was anticipating a difficult conversation.

"Why the bounty?" Asher asked indistinctly through a mouthful.

"I had an unexpectedly spare evening, and I realised I hadn't baked anything at all for weeks. It's wonderfully therapeutic. Once I started, I ended up getting rather carried away. I had to send out one of the security guards for extra chocolate."

"I should make some myself, but somehow I never find the time." Asher sighed. "I remember baking biscuits with you and Dilly and Jen. I'd like my kids to have memories like those, but I can't see — "

"You and Greg will make wonderful parents. Have you heard anything about the reproduction licence application?"

"No. We should still get on the corporate fast track, I hope, but apparently the Department of Population is deluged." She tilted her head slightly, quizzical. "I've just realised — you're the only person who hasn't asked if we're doing it because of the revolt."

The idea had crossed his mind. "Well, I knew you were thinking about it before. And you're both far too sensible to rush into anything." With the opening presented, he couldn't help asking. "So,
is
that the reason for trying for a licence now?"

"I don't — I mean, my parents asked that, so did Greg's, even Jen dropped a few subtle questions last time I saw her." Her mouth quirked. "It's starting to annoy the hell out of me, truth be told. And I've been telling everyone so firmly that it's nothing at
all
to do with the revolt that I'm beginning to wonder if I'm protesting too much. It's so hard to think about it objectively."

"You have plenty of time. The application, and then — " He waved vaguely, suddenly realising he had no idea of the details of the process. Lissa and he hadn't made it that far through the DoP maze. "Implant removal — that must take time too?"

"Three to six months for full fertility to return for both partners, for the majority of couples," she said promptly, then smiled. "I have a horrible feeling that I'm going to turn into an awful baby bore."

He laughed. "You couldn't possibly. But I'm afraid it's really not my field. I can give you a good estimate for code delivery, but . . . "

"I don't think it's quite the same, somehow." Asher shook her head, smiling slightly. "So, talking about family rearrangements, Toreth's really moving in with you?"

"We're moving in together, but yes, basically." With other people he might pretend, but he'd known Asher for too long. "He didn't back out when I mentioned a date, so I think there's every chance he'll go through with it."

"Well, I have to say I never expected it."

"Nor I." He picked up a squishy, sticky walnut square. "The revolt changed a lot of things."

"Yes." Asher looked down at the table for a moment, and Warrick wondered if this was the start of the conversation. However, when she looked up, Asher said, "I had dinner with Dillian last week. She seemed . . . slightly unenthusiastic about the idea of the two of you in the same flat."

"Ah. If she had any expectation of it lasting, I'm sure she would have been more than 'slightly'."

"And you?"

"I'm trying to keep my expectations realistic."

Asher smiled, looking satisfied. "I'm glad to hear it. At least now we can finalise the sale of the old flat, too. That will please the bank."

Warrick frowned. "Are they making trouble?"

"Not really. They were sniffing around to see whether we might like to borrow money at a
very
reasonable rate. I told them we have other places to raise it if we need it."

"And do we?"

"It's possible." She sighed. "We'll have to make a decision soon, Keir. We can't keep delaying."

"There are still units shipping from the production plant. We have work for months, even building and programming flat out."

She laid the half a ginger biscuit in her hand back down in her saucer. "I grant you we have a long backlog of orders, and the cancellation penalties are keeping most people on the list. That doesn't change the fact that new orders are below even the lower boundary of the original projections."

"Not far below," he countered.

"Perhaps not. But I don't want to hit the end of the current list with no money in reserve and no prospect of an income."

"What about the negotiations with the Administration Leisure Centres people? Did they follow up their first enquiry?"

Asher grimaced. "I got a new set of requirements from them first thing this morning. They want the stripped-down basic units, no custom programming and a price to match."

"But if we had spare capacity at the factory, presumably it would be worthwhile?"

"Perhaps. But take a look at the requirements from this morning when you have a chance — I'm almost certain they only approached us because they think that can use the prospect of a deal here as leverage when they negotiate with P-Leisure over the same contract." She sighed. "From that point of view, it's a waste of our time. Still, the longer it goes, on the more contacts we'll make in the Leisure Centre administration."

"As long as we're careful not to offend P-Leisure by looking as though we're actively trying to poach their customers. They've been very generous over the years, and it's to everyone's benefit if they get it all back several times over. Did you talk to Tavi Lennox-Phull?"

"Yes — she knows what the Leisure Centre people are up to as well as we do. Handy to have an old friend of yours working for P-Leisure. She isn't worried — she knows we can't yet match P-Leisure on that kind of deal." She smiled, a neat but combative show of teeth. "Just give me a few years, when we have the new production facilities. Then I'll show you an income stream."

He grinned back. "And I look forward to swimming in it. But for now all we've got is our technical expertise and experience of innovation."

Asher gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm not suggesting we stop research, just that we refocus on the immediately useful applications."

"How will that save money?"

"If we have fewer experimental programmes, that means we can move the developers from there — who are all the best developers — and put them into the core projects."

"And that will let us cut staff? No — out of the question."

She held up her finger. "We won't have to sack anybody. We've been expanding the staff year-on-year since we started. If we simply stop recruitment for new places and to replace people who leave, then we'll save a lot of money. That was one of the ideas behind short-contract flexibility, if you remember."

This was really a discussion that ought to happen with Lew present, but he couldn't help his reply. "We have to keep developing."

"We have to be sensible."

"Do you think P-Leisure and the other corporations with development licences will 'be sensible'? No. They'll keep developing with their eye on the long term."

"They're larger," Asher said. "They can afford to."

"And we're smaller so we can't afford not to."

"I acknowledge the dangers, but it's better to make decisions now than to let the situation fester. People will be happier with a decision made and a plan in place."

"Not that decision," Warrick said with finality. "Have you spoken to Lew?" Asher nodded. "What does he say?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Guess."

"That we should cut back the software budgets and concentrate on the next generation of sim hardware?"

"Right. And
you
insist that the software is the most important part of the business."