"Yes, sir."
"End," he said. The screen went blank. "I'll go over it later."
"Yes, sir."
He scooped up his sandwich and went into his private space. He was tired and hungry and the painblock had worn off sometime in the last hour. It would do no good to rush into anything as unexpected as this.
The images of Nyom still covered the table. He gathered them up and placed them back in the carton. He sat down then, and finished eating.
Eight
He woke up with a stiff neck on top of the bruises. He swallowed another painblock and went to his desk.
"Good morning, sir," the Desk said. "Analysis and collation on the provided data completed. Do you wish a summary?"
"In a moment. I need coffee right now." He switched his samovar on. The machine hummed gently to life. Dark, steaming liquid filled a cup below the spigot. Coren breathed in the steam. "Any more messages?"
"None. Do you wish to review those in the queue?"
"Play Ambassador Burgess's."
Coren heard the flatscreen scroll up from the desktop, but he stood by the samovar, eyes closed, sipping his coffee.
"Mr. Lanra, I would like to apologize for any abruptness I may have exhibited with you yesterday. It has come to my attention that our interests may intersect. I would appreciate another opportunity to talk about it. I'll be in my office the rest of the day. "
Coren opened his eyes. "Hm. I wonder what I disturbed. Connect to Ambassador Burgess."
"Yes, sir."
A few seconds later a crisp male voice said, "Ambassador Burgess's office, how may I help you?"
Coren went to the desk. On the flatscreen he saw the face of Burgess's aide, Hofton. "Coren Lanra. I'm returning the Ambassador's call."
"Of course. Wait one moment while I put you through."
The screen went pale gray, then Ariel Burgess appeared. Her eyes looked slightly puffy; perhaps she had gotten as little sleep as he.
"Ambassador Burgess."
"Mr. Lanra, thank you for returning my call so promptly."
"I admit I'm puzzled at this turnaround."
"No more than I am. Perhaps between the two of us we can make sense of some of it. Would you care to meet with us again?"
"When?"
"As soon as convenient for you."
"Right now, frankly, nothing is convenient. How about-" he glanced at the time chop "-ten. That'll give me a chance to clean up a little. "
"That would be excellent. Here?"
"Certainly. I know the way."
She almost smiled at that. "Till then, Mr. Lanra."
The screen blanked.
"Desk, give me a summary of the analysis on the data I gave you. "
"Specify order."
"Um…" He rubbed his eyes, remembering. "Update on Yuri Pocivil?"
"No further progress."
"Improvo Shipping. "
"Improvo Shipping and Storage is a subsidiary owned outright by the Hunter Group. It has been in operation for thirty-eight years with ninety-two facilities within Sol System and fifty-one facilities located on various Settler worlds. The Hunter Group itself is an offworld company, headquarters on Cassus Thole."
"Really. How many employees within this system?"
"Six hundred seventy-two thousand."
"How many of those are immigrant?"
"Two thousand seven hundred."
"How many of those are natives of Cassus Thole?"
"Eleven hundred twenty-two."
"Uh-huh. Interesting. No list of board members?"
"No such list available at this time."
"Continue search, see if you can find one. Also, I want a list of all Hunter Group holdings. Next, the data from Wenithal's case file."
"The last case he worked on was a major kidnapping ring. It developed from an investigation into a single instance which led him to uncover a global operation with offworld connections. Infants were being sold through various vendors-primarily orphanages and child hospice centers-to offworld buyers."
Coren's interest spiked. "Go on. That sounds familiar. What's in the case file?"
"The record obtained from the public police database contains categorized tables, names cross-referenced in hierarchical tabulations according to assigned probabilities."
"Sounds like his interview and suspect lists."
"Correct. Three hundred seventy-nine names listed, all time-indexed over an eleven-year period beginning twenty-nine years ago, ending eighteen years ago. Of those with current public record files available, two hundred and ninety are deceased-"
"Stop. Two hundred and ninety dead?"
"Correct. "
"Pattern analysis. Common factors?"
"One hundred thirty fatalities occurred within an eight month period. Ninety-seven died of age-related factors. Eighty-three died as the result of fatal accident. Sixty-eight died as the result of fatal interaction-"
"You mean homicide."
"That is a legal definition not applicable in all instances. "
"They were killed by other people. "
"With certain qualifications, yes. "
"Continue."
"Thirty-nine died of causes unverifiable due to inaccessibility of data."
"Explain."
"Deceased were offworld at the time of death. There were irregularities in subsequent reporting."
"Hard copy, names, places, dates, and cause of death." Coren watched while the Desk produced a disk for him. "Give me current disposition of surviving members of the list."
"Of the eighty-nine remaining names, forty-three are serving sentences in rehabilitation clinics, eighteen have emigrated to Settler colonies, and five are residents in hospice centers. Displaying list of remaining twenty-three."
Coren read down the rows until he came to a name he recognized. He whistled.
"Alda Mikels…interesting." He read on. "A few of these people are prominent public figures. I-" He stopped, startled. "Rega Looms."
Coren stared at the name for a long time. He retrieved his hemisphere then and set it into its niche on the desktop.
"Desk, download contents of last recorded exchange."
"Done."
"Play back." Coren listened to his conversation with Ree Wenithal again. When he reached the point where he told Wenithal that Nyom Looms was dead, he said, "Stop there. Subject said something below normal range of hearing. Amplify and enhance. "
From the desk speaker he heard Wenithal, in a raspy whisper, say "Both of them now."
"End playback." Coren looked at Rega's name on the screen. "'Both of them now.' What does that mean?"
"Unknown," the Desk said. Rega had said something very similar. Both of whom?
"Desk, give me a hard copy on these names, then file and return to standby. "
Coren went into his private room to clean up and change clothes. He wanted to go back to his apartment and stretch out for several hours' decent sleep, but he lacked the time.
He slipped the disks into his pocket and drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk. Several years ago, Coren remembered, Alda Mikels and a few others invited Rega Looms to join a business consortium which seemed to Looms at the margins of legality-gray market at least, if not black market. Some of those people were on Wenithal's list. Considering Looms' attitude toward most of them, Coren wondered why they would have approached him in the first place. Perhaps the association went back further than Rega had told him.
"Desk, I want a review of the last twenty-three names, those surviving and still on Earth. Initiate a records search and correlate common associations for the past twenty years. "
"Parameters?"
"Education, business, investments, public service, children." He hesitated. "If nothing turns up, expand search to thirty years. "
"Yes, sir."
Coren disliked investigating his own employer. Sometimes, though, protecting Rega Looms required that he know things Looms probably preferred he did not.
"Also, get me a thorough background on Ree Wenithal. Retired, law enforcement, currently runs his own import-export firm."
"Public file previously referenced-"