"Mr. Looms is in room four-ninety-one, sir."
"Thanks, Lukas. Everything copacetic? Any problems?"
"Other than lack of sleep?" Lukas smiled wanly.
Coren laughed. "That's what overtime pay was invented for," he said and walked away, toward the elevators.
Two more of his people waited in the hallway outside room four-ninety-one. They greeted him with silent nods. Coren knocked on the door and entered.
Rega Looms sat on the edge of a chair, staring at a datum screen on the table between him and Lio Top, his campaign manager. A spread of fruit and vegetables covered a sideboard, next to a big samovar.
Lio looked up first. "Hi, Coren," she said. "Didn't expect you back so soon."
"My compulsiveness is bothering me," he said, choosing a carrot from the tray. " Just wanted to see how things were going. Or not. "
Rega Looms continued to focus on the datum. "Hello, Coren. Make yourself comfortable, I'll be with you in a few minutes. "
Coren wandered to the far end of the room and sat down in a too-soft armchair. He ate his carrot without really tasting it. Now that he was here, in Rega's presence, he felt anxious.
"First thing in the morning," he heard Looms say finally.
Lio stood. Rega Looms closed the datum and rubbed his eyes.
"Six, then?" Lio asked.
Looms nodded. "That will be fine. Thank you, Lio."
She cast Coren a sympathetic look. "G'night, Coren." Coren's heartbeat kicked up a notch.
"Coren," Rega said. "Come sit down here."
Coren's legs felt leaden, but he took the seat vacated by Lio and made himself look at Rega Looms.
Too much of Nyom there, he thought, wincing.
"My daughter, " Looms said.
Until this moment Coren had given no thought to what he intended to tell Rega. He justified-excused-this lapse by telling himself that he had yet to accept the facts. But that was facile, a diversion to keep himself from acknowledging the truth, that it hurt to say the words and it would hurt more to see his own reaction mirrored in Rega.
"She's dead, Rega."
Rega sat back as if slapped. He did not look at Coren, but stared at a point midway between them, eyes locked in place. He closed them slowly and his mouth opened wordlessly.
Coren's ears began to hum in the silence.
"How?" Rega asked, a faint whisper.
"I don't have all the details. She was running baleys and went with the last bunch. They all turned up dead on Kopernik Station."
"You didn't prevent her?"
"How was I supposed to do that?"
Rega's eyes snapped open and focussed on Coren. "I pay you to know how to manage those details. "
"Dragging her out was my only option. Not feasible."
Rega did not look away, but the rage drained slightly from his face. Finally, he nodded.
"Now what?" he asked.
"I need a few days to find out why and who. I can keep it out of the newsnets that long, but you better be prepared for it to hit. If I come up with answers, you could-" He stopped himself. He almost said, you could turn it to your advantage. It surprised him for a moment.
"That's Lio's job," Rega said, following his thoughts. He closed his eyes again. "Both of them now," he whispered. He sighed. "I have a campaign to win. Do what you have to do to find them. If it costs me the election, so be it." His eyes glistened now. He stood. "Thank you for…for coming by, Coren. I know this wasn't easy for you."
"For either of us."
"Do you have any ideas yet?"
"Possibilities. Do you want to know?"
"No. Not till you finish. Then I want to know everything."
"Yes, sir."
As Coren started for the door, Rega caught his arm.
"Everything, Coren."
Rega let go and walked away, toward the bedroom. Coren waited till the door snicked shut before he left. By the time Coren returned to his office, third shift was just ending. His stomach churned-the carrot had triggered his hunger-so he stopped by a small carry-out within walking distance of his building and bought a sandwich.
"Good morning," the Desk greeted him. "Please verify identity."
Coren sat down and went through the procedure, unwrapping his sandwich with his free hand.
"Welcome, Mr. Lanra. You have two messages. One from Myler Towne, one from Ambassador Burgess, Auroran Embassy."
Coren stopped chewing. "Burgess? Time."
"Six-ten."
Half an hour ago.
Coren finished chewing and swallowed. "The one from Myler Towne-is it a repeat of the first message?"
"Yes, sir."
"File it. "
"Yes, sir."
"No word from Jeta Fromm?"
"No, sir."
"Anything further on Yuri Pocivil?"
"No, sir."
"Ree Wenithal?"
"Yes, sir. Public records plus case logs, per parameters."
"Good, good. New search. I want to know who owns Improvo Shipping and Storage, and which freighter and passenger lines it does business with."
"Yes, sir."
Coren stretched lazily until his shoulder twinged. "Did you make that physician's appointment?"
"Yes, sir. Your physician has an opening six days from now, second shift."
Good thing it's not an emergency, Coren thought wryly. "Okay. What specifically do you have on Wenithal? Display."
The screen rose from the desk and file headers scrolled down. Coren caught the words "Nova Levis" and said "Stop. Case file number 82-791-AKB. Review."
"Infant abduction case involving several prominent families. Ree Wenithal primary investigator. Eighteen month investigation culminating in sixty-two percent recoveries and the closing of eight orphanages and four bioremedial research laboratories. "
"How does Nova Levis figure in?"
"R and D facility which came under investigation relative to Ree Wenithal's investigation. Laboratory cleared of any charges."
Cleared…but the name scared Wenithal just the same…
"Collate the particulars: names of families, the children involved, witness lists, and other sources."
"Yes, sir. Do you wish to audit Ambassador Burgess's message?"
"Not yet. Alert me two hours from now."
"Yes, sir."
He rubbed his face and eyes as if to massage away the fatigue.
He felt incompetent. Things had gotten away from him already. It had happened before, but he never got used to it. So much of police work relied on chance and luck-the rest was a question of tenacity. Coren had a good track record of wearing a case down until he solved it. But that took time, and right now he did not have that luxury. He needed to know now.
He had lost Jeta Fromm. That was his one chance of finding out about that strange robot quickly enough to find Nyom's killers before the murders went public. The more time passed, the less likely he could wrap this up before the news broke.
Going to Brun Damik had been a gamble. Not a bad one, Coren thought, considering the rearrangement of shipping schedules out of his office for Petrabor. And Damik did know something. But instead of the answer that would have made Coren's life easier, he led him to Ree Wenithal. In truth, despite the curious fact that Damik had called Wenithal first after Coren's visit, Coren would have walked away from Wenithal as a useless lead.
Except for Wenithal's reaction to the name Nova Levis. But now Coren knew that Nova Levis was the name of a research lab. How did that relate to the colony? And what did kidnapping have to do with it?
"Desk, display data package received from Sipha Palen."
The screen came up. A menu scrolled across it. Coren read through the choices-autopsy, crime scene, material forensics-and touched the icon over crime scene.
The screen showed the cargo bin. Coren hesitated, then accessed the internal view.
Bodies stacked in couches crowding the walls…
He reached for the screen and accesssed the image of the dead Brethe dealer, then gazed at it thoughtfully. "Desk, I want a search for all manufacturers of prosthetic devices. Find a match for the hand pattern found on the woman's shoulder, and the type of prosthetic capable of doing this kind of damage."