To Hold Infinity (13 page)

Trap. Subtle bastard.

A web of network diagrams modelled the key relationships. In Skein, Rafael pointed at a node and grasped it, sending his offer price.

He subverted his opponent's strategy by buying out a key supplier three levels along the chain. In seconds, he turned the share-price movement around; within a minute he controlled seventy-three percent of his opponent's stock and shut him down.

Not bad.

There was no time to relax. Two more opportunities appeared, and he went for them simultaneously.

Rafael, immersed in the icy cool flow of financial info, swimming among the icebergs of corporate dataseams, doubled and redoubled his gains. In small display volumes, matching his movements like pilot fish, pulsing intention-indicators mapped the intricate strategies of his Luculenti opponents and partners.

He played this game at the highest level, where double- and triple-cross were not unknown, where business alliances might last only seconds, or less. The trick was to become one with the vast flow of planetary wealth, that cold turbulent sea where even the minnows had to be observed lest they turn suddenly into sharks, and where Rafael was the most cunning shark of all.

A new display volume blossomed beside him.

 

<<>>

 

The ident was unknown to him.

 

((text: I'm a Terran journalist. Might I have word with you?))

 

The (text) was prepared by a public-access terminal.

Rafael crushed the display volume in his fist, and shards of code flew apart in Skein.

Why would a Terran journo want to talk to me?

Rapidly, he concluded a rapid series of mergers and takeovers and long-term investments, while he formed a group of NetAngels and sent them searching through immigration tables, for any attributes of the caller's ident code.

Almost immediately, one returned with a name: Maggie Brown.

Ah, yes.
The Terran woman he had met at the conference centre. The one who had been interviewing Rashella.

Interesting.

More info came flooding in. The Earther woman had a child, here on Fulgor.

If he needed leverage, there was her weak point.

Still in Skein, smiling now, he willed a real-time comm session with Maggie Brown, and she accepted and came on-line.

Quickly, Rafael constructed a virtual room, a green old-fashioned study, and caused his own ghost-image to lean back in a deep black leather chair.

“I must apologize,” he said smoothly through his ghost. “I was in the middle of some delicate financial dealings when you called. I beg your pardon.”

“Not at all. Thank you for coming back to me.” She hid her surprise well, for an Earther.

“You were covering the Skein conference. Has it been going well?”

He completed another merger, while awaiting her reply.

“Boring as hell,” she said. “But, you know, I didn't expect it to be riveting.”

“Not a chance, I'm afraid.” Rafael laughed. “So, can I help you with some background info? Or the views of the ordinary Luculentusin-the-street? Though there are at least four major viewpoints on the connectivity issue, I have to say.”

“From Earth's point of view, they're details. Regardless of the type of access, Skein's going to become more available to EveryWare, and that's news.”

“I think you're probably right.”

“I was thinking,” said Maggie, “of a more human story, of interest back home.”

“To do with Skein?”

“To do with offworld trade, to a small extent—”

“Offworld trade? I do enter into joint ventures, occasionally, with offworld companies. I don't believe in a closed economy.”

“Me neither,” said Maggie. “I believe you know Tetsuo Sunadomari.”

All of Rafael's senses swung to full alert.

In the background, he shut down all his tasks and withdrew completely from the financial strata of Skein.

“Yes, I know him.” He went with his intuition. “Ah—I'm not supposed to say this, but I sponsored him for upraise to Luculentus status.”

“Upraise? To Luculentus status?”

Nice try.

In Skein, he could make his ghost assume any physical characteristics he chose. But Maggie Brown's image was fed from a terminal input, and he could read the minutiae of her body language, zoom in on her eyes, on the muscular tension in her face.

She already knew about Tetsuo's upraise.

Therefore, she had Luculentus—or Luculenta—help.

Nothing to do with Rashella: she had not known of Tetsuo's upraise. He knew that, for Rashella's memories, subsumed within his own, were quite clear upon that point.

“It's possible for an offworlder to undergo the so-called upraise operation—although there's more to it than a simple piece of surgery, of course—if they fulfil the requirements. And if they have a sponsor.”

“And that was you, in this case?”

“Oh, yes. I'd like to think Tetsuo is my friend.”

“Is?” Maggie's expression was intent. “Does that mean you know where he is?”

“No…I haven't seen him for a tenday, or so.”

“Do you know where he might be?”

“No, I'm afraid not.” He smiled. “The proctors asked me that as well.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow, and he wondered if he should have given her that piece of info. He had just told her, implicitly, that he knew of Tetsuo's disappearance, and realized that she did, too. Would his candour make her more or less suspicious?

Was he being too subtle for an Earther?

“Listen,” he added. “I interrupted my business to make time for this chat.”

“I appreciate it,” Maggie said quickly. “If you could just spare a couple more minutes—”

“I was going to suggest, perhaps you could come over here in person. Have you had lunch yet?”

“Ah. No.”

“I'll send my flyer for you. Where are you staying?”

He already knew perfectly well: one of his NetAngels had returned with that information.

“The Bright Lights hotel, at the conference centre.”

“I know it. If I send the flyer to arrive in, say, twenty minutes?”

“OK,” said Maggie. “Thank you. That would be great.”

“My pleasure.” He constructed one of his most charming smiles. “By the way, the flyer will be unmanned. I don't believe in employing servants, you see.”

“Oh. Good.”

“I look forward to seeing you again.” He returned to reality.

His lounge was still tuned to a grey and silver, somewhat cubist décor. He liked its clean strength, but perhaps something softer would put his luncheon guest at ease.

Slipping into direct command mode, he caused the floor to rearrange itself. In the centre, a low well appeared, ringed by shallow steps.

He looked at the walls, and willed them to a deep orange. Indirect lighting spread from floor and ceiling.

The carpet became a sea of warm browns and oranges, in which tiny yellow mandelbrots slowly swam.

From his image library, some classic holo sculptures completed the room.

Perfect.

Poor, plain Maggie. Unused to all this luxury.

He would do his best to make her feel very special. If that failed, then he would make use of her child's, young Jason's, vulnerability.

Whichever way the meeting went, he would be ready for her.

 

It nibbled her fingers.

The day was warm, and Yoshiko trailed her hand over the boat's edge, enjoying the cool feel of the water. Huge goldfish drew close, and the touch of their lips was feather-soft. Opposite her, lounging on the boat's other bench seat, Xanthia Delaggropos sipped from a fruit cocktail.

The boat, canopied against the sun, drifted languidly.

The slow, dark river, bedecked with floating lilies and bankside rushes, wound through the gardens of Xanthia's house. Beside them, a weeping welig-tree, bright with scarlet catkins, trailed so low it almost touched the placid water.

Yoshiko sighed.

“I suppose I'm ready. Are you sure we shouldn't see them in person?”

“I'm sure.” Xanthia smiled gently. “A lot of the Fulgidi merchants, the successful ones, try to conduct all their business through holo. It does save time…but the real reason is, they imagine it's more like the way Luculenti work, in Skein.”

“Oh,” said Yoshiko.

“They won't see me. The viewfield ends around here.” Xanthia's fingers sketched a wide vertical circle in the air. “They'll see just you, and the boat and surroundings up to half a metre in front of you, and a long view to the rear as a backdrop.”

“OK. I understand.”

A hatch slid back in the bottom of the boat, revealing a powerful holoprojector.

“Elizabeth Malone is a mother, with two children,” said Xanthia. “Shall we try her first? She may be the more sympathetic.”

Yoshiko nodded.

“She's responding to our call.” Xanthia's eyes held a slightly unfocussed look. “OK, here we go.”

It was startling.

Though Yoshiko knew she was really on the boat, Xanthia disappeared from sight.

Instead, a stark room grew into being in front of Yoshiko.

The room was composed of walls and columns of glass of varying hues, pale ambers and wine-dark reds and greens. Behind a blue glass desk sat a pale woman. Her reddish hair was pulled back into a tight bun.

“I'm Malone.” The woman looked severe. Not a trace of sunlight leaked through, though the sun lay behind the holo image. “This is about the twenty-third layer protocol project, I take it?”

“In a way.” Yoshiko cleared her throat. “It's more to do with my son, Tetsuo.”

“You've a plan to make reparations for our losses? If this continues, we're going to lose the contract.”

“As you may know, my son hasn't been seen for several days. I was hoping you could tell me about him, whether he seemed upset, or—”

“Our relationship was purely commercial. Our contract was negotiated in good faith, and there were no indications that anything untoward might cause slippage.”

“Yes, but if we find him, we can sort this out. I know nothing of his business.”

“Then there's little to discuss. Has he been reported missing? Are the authorities looking for him?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then I'll assume the proctors can do the job we pay them for. Good day. Out.”

The room disappeared.

Xanthia leaned forward and touched the back of Yoshiko's hand.

“I'm sorry. That was rough.”

Yoshiko shook her head. “I'm OK.”

“Shall we take a break before the next call?”

“No,” said Yoshiko. “This is the man who called me, Sylvester Stargonier?”

“That's right.” Again, Xanthia assumed a distant look. “Connecting now.”

The boat wheeled under a tree's shadow as another room grew into being before Yoshiko. In the shade, the room glowed perhaps a little too brightly. All the same, Yoshiko felt she could just step forwards and she would be in Stargonier's office.

Lean and handsome, he lounged beside a desk. Behind, a red desertscape was visible through a picture window. Soft eerie pipe music played in the background.

“Thank you for seeing me,” she said.

“No problem.” Stargonier ran a hand through his longish grey hair. “In fact I owe you an apology.”

Yoshiko shook her head.

“Oh, yes.” Stargonier frowned. “When I called you at the spaceport hotel, you'd just arrived on Fulgor. Then I gave you an earful about your son, when you must have been worried sick.”

“I was—I
am
worried. That's true.”

“I'm sorry. I had my own concerns, but that's no excuse.”

“That's quite all right. I understand.”

Stargonier smiled grimly. “I just had a message, an infoburst, from Elizabeth.”

From Malone? That was quick.

“I gather the proctors are looking for Tetsuo? That he's really disappeared?”

“I'm afraid so,” said Yoshiko.

Stargonier looked away. “Maybe Elizabeth and I were pushing him too hard to complete on time.”

“Was he very stressed?”

“Yes, I'd say so.” He looked up at the ceiling, or possibly at the sky on Yoshiko's side, and thought. “He didn't look physically ill. Stressed, but not to breaking point, I wouldn't have said.”

“How much was riding on this project?”

“A fair amount, though nothing I couldn't recover from in a pinch. I can't speak for Elizabeth, you understand.”

“Of course. Were there any friends he might have gone to, if he were in trouble?”

Stargonier shook his head slowly. “Sorry, Mrs. Sunadomari. I—had the impression of a man with few friends. It can be tough for outsiders, here.”

Yoshiko tried not to think about that.

“What about his other projects? I gather he had several things on the go at once.”

“Nothing, ah, crucial,” said Stargonier. “As far as I know. Here you are—”