He paused and looked at me quizzically. “What are you suggesting? That I kill him? That’s damned hard and you know it.”
That statement gave me an inward chuckle, since Khamgirt was a little enough fish that I could probably have taken him out effortlessly. But I hardly wanted to betray myself as a pro in that area. Not yet. Too many other nervous bosses would see me as a threat.
“Uh-uh,” I answered him. “I’m talking about getting him canned.”
Sugal snorted derisively. “Hell, Zhang, you’d have to prove gross incompetence, direct and prolonged mismanagement, or criminal intent against the state—and as much as I hate the son of a bitch, I don’t think he’s guilty of any of those things.”
“Whether he is or isn’t is beside the point,” I told him. “Suppose I could hang one of those on him anyway?”
“Are you crazy? What you’re saying is impossible!” he responded, but he sat down.
“Not only not impossible, but not even that hard if a little luck is riding with me—and it usually is. I’m pretty sure such a thing has been done before, many times. I studied the histories of a lot of our syndicate bosses and corporation presidents. This is a technological world founded by technological criminals, Mr. Sugal. Founded by them and run by them.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s absurd. I would have heard about it.”
“Would they tell you? So you could do it to them? Look, even Laroo has been on Cerberus less time than you’ve been around by far, and look what happened to him.”
Sugal considered that. “How would you do it?”
“Given, say, a week and a little inside information. I’ll know exactly. I have a rough plan in mind, but it’ll need fine-tuning, the kind that can only come when it has a specific objective and target.”
He looked at me somewhat uneasily. “And why would you do this? For me? Don’t give me that bull.”
“No, for me. What would happen to your position if I could do it? Where would that leave you?”
“Probably as a senior vice-president,” he told me. “Higher up, certainly, particularly since I’d know it was coining when nobody else did and would be able to pave the way. I know how to do it, but the only opening to the top I had a chance at Khamgirt took. Still, as I said before, what’s in it for you? I can hardly promote you to plant manager so suddenly.”
“No, I don’t want much of an advancement,” I told him. “In fact, I’m thinking of a different direction for myself. One safe for you. Do you know Hroyasail?”
Again he was caught a little off-guard, which was fine. “Yeah, it’s one of our subsidiaries. Harvests skrit offshore. We use some of the chemicals from it in making insulators. Why?”
“I want it,” I told him. “Right now the place doesn’t even have a president. A company accountant comes down three or four times a year from the home office and that’s about it.”
“Sure. Something that small usually doesn’t need one.”
“I think it does. Me. And the position’s already provided for, at least on the organizational chart. All it needs is certification by a senior official. You could do that as plant manager—but I’d prefer it coming from a senior vice-president, say.”
“Now what in hell would you want that for?”
“My own reasons. But it’s a nonthreatening position. The kind of job they’ll give you if Khamgirt gets his way and you fail to meet quota. A pasture job. It pays well, has few responsibilities, has no experience prerequisites, and is still within the company. And of course as a company president I’d love to drop around occasionally and gossip with a senior vice-president of my parent corporation.”
He thought it over. “Supposing—just supposing—you could pull it off. And, again just supposing, I could finagle that post for you. Would I have to watch my own back, then?”
“No, ” I responded as sincerely as I could. “I’m not interested in your job, present or future. That kind of stuff would drive me nuts. This is a company world and I’m just not the company type. Believe me, Mr. Sugal, nothing in any of my plans would in any way harm you now or in the future. I like and admire you—but we’re two different sorts with two different directions to follow.”
“I think I believe you,” he told me, still sounding uneasy, “but I’m still not sure if I shouldn’t be afraid of you.”
“What can you lose? They have you at their mercy now. I’m going to do something, not you. You alone will know that I did it—but neither of us will be able to ever use the information against the other because that’s the only way both of us can ever be incriminated. If I fail, you’re no worse off than you are now. If I succeed, we both get what we want. How about it?”
I’ll believe you can do it when I see it done,” he said skeptically, “but I can’t see anything against it, either.”
I grinned. “You provide me with a few important bits of information, and I’ll almost guarantee it. A deal’s a deal.” I looked at my watch. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going down to change for the game. Sure you won’t play?”
He shook his head. “Big meeting tonight with the area managers. But—good luck.”
“I try and keep luck out of it, sir,” I told him.
CHAPTER SIX
Preparations
Sanda Tyne, Dylan Kohl, Turgan Sugal, and, yes, even fat Otah. Especially him. The elements were all there.
The first thing I did was drop down to a store and buy an armload of electric slates. I needed a lot of plotting and planning with hard copy, but I wanted no trace whatsoever to remain after. No innocent slips of paper, no idle tracing to betray me. When the deed was accomplished, I’d have to stay well protected. The scam would be absolute and it would work, but those higher up, far beyond Khamgirt, would smell a rat somewhere, if only because they were variations of people like me and would have a nose for it. They’d know what had occurred was a frame, but even as they allowed Khamgirt to be led away to oblivion of some kind they’d be searching for the culprit Khamgirt wouldn’t be sacked because they believed him guilty, but for being so sloppy as to allow such a dirty trick to be played on him.
Dylan had exploited much the same weakness in the system when she had broken free of the motherhood by using a drug most people had never heard about or believed existed. I had no access to such substances, and even if I might get some that wasn’t what I wanted. Any controlled substances, particularly those from offworld, could be traced by a determined group of investigators. The key to this plan as it developed was that, even if they figured it out, they would reject the explanation because of its very absurdity. I liked that touch.
Even as Sugal got me what I wanted to know—information on night shifts in certain parts of Tooker, various routine business transfer codes, and facts about certain basic computers supplied by Tooker to borough agencies—I started out to complete my subtle recruitment. This was not something that could be done alone, although I would have preferred to do it that way. But what had to be accomplished in very little time was too spread out and complex for any one person to manage. Furthermore, I wanted no chance of interruptions by third parties who might have to be dealt with, so I had to control everybody in the area for a stated period of time. That would be tough. However, I had some things to offer, and some interested parties to offer them to.
By now I had Dylan’s measure pretty well and was certain of her ability to keep things quiet, including herself, and of her guts to pull off her assignment. Sanda was the problem. Now over seven months pregnant, she had little freedom of movement, and her life in that cloister was beyond my checking. She’d go along with my plan, of course, but I had to trust Dylan’s judgment that she’d keep her mouth shut about it.