Corain sipped the coffee warmed by the desk-plate. Two hundred fifty cred the half-kilo. They were damned small sips. But, a man was due a little luxury, who had been a scratch-and-patch outback farmer most of his life.
No newnews. That was disappointing. He traced down the long list of things Reseune had refused to allow Internal Affairs to do, and read the legal justifications. Reseune's legal staff was winning every round. And Internal Affairs, at the uppermost administrative level, was not hitting back.
Then:
Internal Affairs is investigating the rumor at Reseune that certain genesets were checked out and not logged. This means someone could have duplicated genesets that ought not to exist. . . .
Azi-running? God, you can get a geneset from a blood sample. From anything. Why would anyone steal one from Reseune?
. . . such as Experimental and Special material which cannot otherwise be obtained.
Smuggling actual genesets prepared for use by Reseune requires cryogenics which would be detected in shipment unless simply omitted from manifests. However—the digitalized readout of a geneset is another story. Reseune in the person of administrator Nye denies that there is any such activity, or that documentation could have been released without record.
Also there is some rumor on staff that there have been unwarranted terminations. Reseune is blocking this inquiry.
Corain gnawed his lip. And thought: I don't want to know this. Not right now. Things are too delicate. My God, if this hits the streets—all the arrangements can come unglued.
A side note from Dellarosa: What about the chance Emory was running the genesets herself? Or ordered it? What's a Special worth, to someone who has access to a birth-lab?
Votes. A Council seat. Support from the very, very rich. Corain took a swallow of coffee. And sweated.
Physical evidence suffered from inexpert handling from the Moreyville police. Certain surfaces in the outer lab and the cold-lab have Jordan Warrick's fingerprints, Emory's fingerprints, the prints of the azi attendants, of certain of the other regular users of the lab, and a number of students who have come forward to be printed. The door bears a similar number of prints. No presence-tracers were available to the Moreyville police who did the preliminary investigation. Subsequent readings would have been meaningless due to the traffic in and out of the lab by police and residents. The security door records were released and corroborate the comings and goings given in verbal testimony. Again, Reseune will not allow Internal Affairs technicians access to the computers.
The autopsy results say that Emory froze to death, that the skull fracture was contributory, in that she was probably unconscious at the time of the pipe rupture. She was suffering from extremely minor rejuv failure and had arthritis of the right knee and mild asthma, all of which were known to her doctors. The only unexpected finding was a small cancer in the left lung, localized, and unknown to her physician at the time: it is a rare type, but less rare among early pioneers on Cyteen. The treatment would have been immediate surgery, with drug therapy. This type of cancer does respond to treatment but frequently recurs, and the prognosis combined with other immune-system problems due to the rejuv difficulty would have been less than favorable.
God.
She was dying anyway.
xi
Justin composed himself with several deep breaths as he walked down the hall beside Denys Nye. He had showered, shaved, was dressed in his ordinary work-clothes, blue sweater, brown pants. He was not shaking. He had asked for three aspirin and made sure that that was all he had gotten before he swallowed them. As a tranquilizer it was at least enough, with his exhaustion, to dull the nerves.
Jordan lookedall right. He would. Jordan was like that.
God, he couldn't have killed her. He couldn't. They'remaking him say these things. Someone is lying.
"Hello, son."
It was not one of the cold little interview rooms. It was an administrative office. Denys was not going to leave. He had explained that. Neither were the azi guards going to leave. And a recorder was running, because no one trusted anything, and they wanted to be able to prove to investigators that nothing had gone on in the meeting.
"Hello," he said back. And thought he ought to go and put his arms around his father at a time like this, in front of all the people who would see the tape, but, dammit, Jordan was not inviting it, Jordan was being reserved and quiet and had things to say to him Jordan needed to get in order. All he had to say was goodbye. All he couldsay was goodbye. Anything else— anythingelse—and he could make a mistake that would go on that tape and ruin everyone's life worse than he had already done.
Things like: I'm sorry I tried to deal with Ari. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry you had to find it out yourself. It's all my doing. All of it.
Don't bring up Grant, Denys had warned him. Don't bring it up at all. The committees could want to talk to him if you do. Let them forget about him.
"Are you all right?" Jordan asked him.
"I'm fine. Are you?"
"Son, I—"
Jordan's mouth trembled. O God, he's going to lose it. In front of all of them.
"They told me everything. You don't have to tell me. Please." Jordan drew a deep breath and eased it out again. "Justin, I want you to know whyI did it. Because Ari was an influence this world didn't need. I did it the same way I'd try to fix a bad tape. I don't have any remorse for it. I won't ever have. It was a perfectly logical decision. Now someone else is running Reseune and I'm transferred, which is exactly what I wanted, where I won't have Ari changing my designs and using her name on my work she's done over. I'm free. I'm just sorry—sorry it blew up like this. I'm a better scientist than I am a plumber. That's what the investigators said. I backed up the pressure and they caught it in the monitor records."
The anger had been there at the start, real anger, profound, shattering anger. It cooled at the last. It became a recitation, a learned part, an act meant to look like an act. He was grateful for that last coolness, when Jordan threw the ball to him.
I know why you did it,he almost said, then thought that that could come out wrong. Instead he said: "I love you."
And nearly lost control. He bit his lip till it bled. Saw Jordan with his own jaw clenched.
"I don't know if they'll let me write to you," Jordan said.
"I'll write."
"I don't know if they'll give me the letters." Jordan managed a small laugh. "They imagine we can pass messages in hello, how's the weather?"
"I'll write anyway."
"They think—they think there's some damn conspiracy. There isn't. I promise you that, son. There isn't anyone who knew and there wasn't supposed to be anyone who knew. But they're afraid out there. People think of Ari as political. That's how she was important to them. They don't think of her first as a scientist. They don't understand what it means when someone takes your work and turns it inside out. They don't understand the ethics that were violated."
Ethics that were violated. God. He's playing for the cameras. The first was a speech to the committee but the last was a code tome. If he goes on any longer they're going to catch him at it.
"I love you," Jordan said then. "More than anything."