“Can we tighten security any more?” she asked.
He shook his head and looked away, distracted. “Security on the Covenant cannot be locked down any further. We have instigated serious changes in boarding procedures at the two departure sites. I am assured it’s not possible for anyone with inimical intentions to get on board the shuttles that are running people and supplies to the ship.”
Pausing the petite, sorbet-laden spoon halfway to her mouth, she frowned slightly. “How can even the best security determine someone’s intentions? I can see discovering a weapon or an explosive, but—a hostile intention? Do we now have devices that can divine someone’s purpose?”
“You know what I mean,” he replied impatiently. “We have security people who are trained to watch and if necessary to interrogate those who are boarding the shuttles. Admittedly the system is not perfect, but it has worked effectively in the past.”
“Yes,” she murmured, “but this is the present.”
There were times when he thought his daughter deliberately tried to infuriate him.
“What changes would you suggest, princess?”
“You worry that things are progressing too slowly in London, even though you express confidence in those attempting to identify the source of our problem.”
He grunted softly. “I am assured that Captain Bevridge did not achieve his present status through incompetency. Nor was the chief of mission security, Sergeant Daniel Lopé, chosen for his position because he is unqualified. With security on board the ship properly tightened, it’s for him to continue to assist in the ongoing inquiry. But yes—I am still concerned at the pace of the investigation.”
She tossed her head slightly, and the diamond dust spray in her hair caught the light of the suite’s subtle illumination, giving her the look of a beautiful but tough pixie.
“Then do something to speed it up.” No one else would have dared use such an abrupt tone with Hideo Yutani.
“Such as? Bevridge and Lopé already have access to whatever resources they might need.”
“One never knows when the watchers themselves are being watched.”
His brows drew together. “Who told you that one?”
“You did. A long time ago.”
He chuckled softly. “Your memory of me is better than my own. Are you saying that the object of the investigation may be aware of it, and is taking measures to keep track of our efforts?”
She gestured with the small sorbet spoon, tracing arcs in the air above the table. “I’m saying that it might speed up the investigation if we came at it from another, complimentary angle that was separate from the first. In combat, never discount the value of opening an unexpected second front.”
He looked bemused. “Did I say that, too?”
“No.” She dug into the last of the now watery sorbet. “Kawakami Soroku, I think.”
He pondered the suggestion before finally replying. “I think it’s a good idea. I don’t see how it can hurt. If the current investigators fail to identify our adversaries, perhaps someone else, utilizing a separate approach, might succeed.”
Picking up a linen napkin, she dabbed delicately at her lips. “Do you have someone in mind?”
He nodded. “Someone who occasionally works for a friend of mine. We had dinner recently and his name came up. Someone who moves freely in the world of the legitimate, but who has access to—other resources. Resources that might be denied to Bevridge-san and Sergeant Lopé.”
“That sounds promising. I concur.”
“So happy you agree.” His reply was touched with a mixture of sarcasm and affection. “I’ll engage him immediately, have him briefed, and send him on his way. He should be in London by tomorrow evening. Let us hope for good results.”
“As good as that dessert, anyway.” As they rose from their seats she smiled affectionately at him. “You really should have had some, Father.”
He shook his head tersely. “I fear that until this matter is successfully resolved I will not be in the mood for anything sweet save your company.” They moved in tandem toward the suite’s exit where four bodyguards were waiting: two to escort him home, two to perform the same service for his daughter.
“I wish mother was here,” she murmured. “She would have her own ideas about what to do.”
Her observation stirred Yutani’s heartiest laugh of the day. “Your mother would insist on going to London herself, weapons in hand, to blow away anyone who crossed her path. She was a loose cannon, your mother. Smart and beautiful, but entirely unpredictable.”
His daughter peered into her father’s face. “Yet you loved her for that.”
“No, I considered it her worst trait.” The smile returned. “But everything else about her made up for it.”
Yoji Ngata did not look the part of a Yakuza fixer. He was short, balding all the way across his head, round-faced, and visibly plump. The plumpness concealed muscle and a remarkable reaction time. While judo was his specialty, he held so many black belts in so many different martial arts that there was little left for him to try. He was quite capable of out-wrestling, out-maneuvering, and out-fighting anyone his size and most who were bigger than him.
More importantly, he could inevitably out-think them. Fighting him, one opponent had declared, was like trying to defeat a sentient bowling ball. You couldn’t hurt it, you couldn’t predict what it would do, and the next thing you knew it was landing on your foot.
He didn’t have to pack. The single black carry-on bag in the closet of his apartment was always packed with the necessities so that he could be ready to go on a moment’s notice. As he bade goodbye to his cat, Lune, secure in the knowledge that the apartment’s AI would take care of his companion, he considered the details of his assignment.
Lune continued the review in the autocab, upon disembarking at the airport, and as he boarded the private supersonic jet that was waiting to take him to London. He quite liked Greater London, having spent time there on several previous occasions, not all of which involved work. The English city was very different from Greater Tokyo and offered a nice change of scenery… when one could see it through the pollution.
According to the information that had been provided to him, he was looking for a group of fanatics. They might work for or be employed by the Jutou Combine. Or not. Regular Weyland-Yutani operatives were trying to locate the same people, but if possible, he was to work on his own. That suited him perfectly. Though he could be quite congenial when the situation demanded, he much preferred to fly solo.
It saved him the discomfit that sometimes arose when people made fun of his appearance, and he had to hurt them.
XX
The sun was silver on the rippling waters of the Solent, a welcome change from the gloom that pervaded not only the swollen cities of Britain, but much of its once pristine countryside, as well.
The threatening overcast was absent along certain sections of coastline where sufficient ocean breezes continued to hold it at bay—though for how much longer not even the best meteorologists could say. Official government predictions were less widely believed ever since lethal pollution had forced the abandonment of much of Paris outside the domed city center.
Looking like a group of office workers out for a lunchtime stroll, the half-dozen members of the council blended in seamlessly with the families, students, and day trippers on Calshot Beach. Though composed of shingle and not sand, it was still a popular place to catch the sun and watch the comings and goings of enormous trading vessels as they made their way between the three major local ports.