"It looks to me like a decker, sir," the man said, while the hospital guard shot him a cold look.
Kyle tried to get a better view into the room, but couldn't see much.
"The computer system's internal security programs noted a load anomaly a few minutes ago," the Knight Errant guard explained. "They've been trying to figure out what's going on, but it looks like someone's decked into the computer from outside and is searching the database."
"Admittance records?" asked Kyle.
"Seems that way, sir."
Kyle sighed. If this was related to Mitchell Truman's presence, it was more than probable that whoever was cracking the computer had found his admittance records and knew he was here. "We probably shouldn't move him again," Kyle told the officer. "But let's at least change his room once the decker is either out, dumped, or they finally get smart enough to crash the system. This way whoever it is won't know Mitchell's exact whereabouts in the building. It might give us a few minutes."
The officer nodded. "I'll pass your recommendations on to Lieutenant Facile."
Kyle smiled. "You do that." He turned and walked slowly from the lobby, lost in thought. He was in luck, almost immediately able to find a taxi back to the hotel.
Back in his suite, and finally able to get some sleep, Kyle was soon dreaming of thunderstorms.
11
There were two messages awaiting Kyle when he woke nearly eight hours later. He didn't remember leaving a Do Not Disturb notice on anything but the door, but considering how much better he felt, he felt no need to complain. The first message was from Beth. She wanted him to call. He did, using his pocket telecom. The Fuchi logo appeared, floating and barely opaque, visible in his field of vision thanks to his display-link cyberware.
Kyle felt strangely uneasy calling her at work. It still felt wrong for her to be doing this job, but he'd lost the option of doing anything about it years ago. He felt a twinge as he connected into Fuchi America's internal communications network and then was routed to Beth. She picked up immediately. Her hair was styled differently then when they'd had dinner a day ago. He barely recognized her.
"John Mikayama's office, Elizabeth Breman speaking," she said crisply.
“Hoi,” be said.
She paused when she saw his face. "Hoi. Are you all right."
"Sure,” he said, surprised at the question. "Why wouldn't it be?"
She pursed her lips. "I got a little worried when you didn't call."
"Sorry. I know this won't surprise you, but things got more complicated then I'd expected."
Beth nodded, glanced at something Kyle couldn't see, and then spoke again. "You're right. It doesn't surprise me. But did you get a chance to speak to Ellen?"
"No," Kyle said slowly. "But I will."
Beth looked away again. "I haven't been able to reach her. I tried all day yesterday."
"How long has it been since you've talked to her?"
“Two days."
"You've checked with her friends?"
She shook her head. "I don't know any of them-if she has any."
I'll stop by and see her today. Is she still at her old address?"
Beth nodded.
"Don't worry. I'll call you as soon as I find out anything."
"Thanks," she said.
Kyle reached for the Disconnect, but paused for one last thought "By the way, I like your hair."
She smiled self-consciously and reached up to smooth a nonexistent disarray. "No you don't. You're still a terrible liar." The screen jumped to black.
Checking the time, which was just after midday, Kyle thought the odds of Ellen being home were minute. Then he suddenly remembered that she didn't work-wasn't able to yet, according to the psych evaluations-and was living on settlement money the government had distributed from the seized Universal Brotherhood coffers. It was a good bet she'd be there.
The second message was, somewhat surprisingly, from Dave Strevich at the FBI. Considering their last conversation, Kyle was almost reluctant to return the call. But he did.
"Dave Strevich," the burly man said as he made the connection. “Teller! Sure took your fraggin' time getting back to me."
Kyle shrugged. "Man's gotta sleep."
"Really? Well, that explains it" Strevich held up his hand, indicating that Kyle shouldn't speak, and then tapped a few commands into his telecom keyboard. After a moment, Kyle heard a series of three low beeps come from Strevich's console. The older man nodded. "Good. We're clear."
"No bugs, eh?" said Kyle, and was surprised by the way his friend's eyes hardened just for a moment before he laughed forcibly.
"No, nobody's listening in."
"What's going on?" Kyle asked him.
"Look, I'm not telling you this," said Strevich tersely. "Nobody did, got it?"
"Got it"
"Red alarms started going off all over Ares Macro-technology and Knight Errant some hours ago. We figured they were gearing up over some intercorporate drek, but it turns out their interest seems to be in Chicago."
Kyle was startled. "Chicago? Ares doesn't have any major offices or facilities here, at least none that I know of."
Strevich nodded. "You're right. Their interest is in you."
"Me?"
Strevich nodded. "Maybe not in you personally, but at least in what you're involved in."
"I don't understand."
Strevich shrugged. "I don't either, but Knight Errant has moved, or is in the process of moving, various key personnel and assets into Chicago."
"Assets?"
"We have it on good authority that Knight Errant has sent what they call one of their 'Firewatch' teams into the city. They have three of them. Six to a team, a hard mix of combat cybernetics and magic. Combat strike teams."
"Great Coyote," Kyle said.
“Whatever," said Strevich. "There's more. This is Team Two, and it's been operating either in Barcelona for the European trade summit or in Azania down around Cape Town, depending on which source we believe." Strevich paused. "More important is who commands it."
Kyle waited. "Who's that?"
"Anne Ravenheart," Strevich said, "Captain Anne Ravenheart, formerly of the Sioux Special Forces and a former classmate of yours at Columbia, if I'm not mistaken."
“That's impossible," Kyle said, trying to remember what he could about his old acquaintance, and on one drunken night, lover. "She was there on a Sioux government scholarship."
"Military scholarship."
"It can't be," Kyle insisted irrationally. What he remembered of her wasn't military, nothing hard or unyielding. Just the opposite. It was true she had an edge to her, but he had taken the source of that to be the same as his own-being born into poverty.
"Think again," Strevich said. "She's a known quantity in military circles, no question about it."
“This doesn't make sense. I've seen nothing here on a scale large enough to mobilize Knight Errant like they're gearing up for corporate war. Sure, there are some weird things, but…"
"Maybe you should tell me what those weird things are," said Strevich.
"Only if you'll answer my questions."
"I'll answer what I can," his friend said, "and anything I can't answer I'll see if I can get you cleared for. Don't expect much, though. Senator Birch is on the Oversight Committee these days. I'm sure he still remembers you fondly. I know his wife does."