It just won’t be the right one.
But in the present climate, I thought I should hear what it was about before terminating things. So I told Jacob to put him on.
“Hello?” The voice was subdued and anxious.
“Go ahead. This is Chase Kolpath.”
“I wanted to speak to Mr. Benedict.”
“I’m sorry. He’s not here. Can I help you?”
“Can I reach him? It’s important.”
“I’m afraid not. I’d be happy to help if I can.”
“Do you know when he’ll be available?”
“What’s your name, please?”
I heard a distinct sigh. “It’s me, Chase. Marcus Kiernan.”
That got my attention. “Marcus, I’m sorry, but I really have no way to get to him. You’ll have to talk to me.”
He took a deep breath. In the background, I could hear the buzz of conversation.
He was in a public place, trying to ensure that we didn’t track him.
“Mr. Kiernan, are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“If you want to talk to someone, it’ll have to be me. What can I do for you?”
“Meet me.” He said it a bit louder than necessary, as if he’d just taken a difficult decision.
“Why?”
“I’ve something to tell you.”
“Why not just tell me?”
“I don’t want to broadcast it.” Another pause. “Come alone.”
“Why? Did you want another shot at me?”
“That wasn’t me.”
“It was your girlfriend, Barber. What’s the difference?”
“Please,” he said.
I let him wait while I listened to my heartbeat. “All right,” I said.
“Chase, if anybody’s with you, I’ll clear out.”
“Where are you going to be?”
He thought for a moment. “In the lobby of Barkley Manor. In one hour.”
I don’t know what kind of impression I make on people, but I don’t like to think I look dumb. “No,” I said. “I’ll be at the base of the Silver Tower in forty minutes. I’ll wait five minutes, then I’m gone.”
“I don’t think I can get there in forty minutes.”
“Give it your best.”
Andiquar is the Confederate seat of power, and the Hall of the People constitutes the visible symbol of its presence. It’s a magnificent, sprawling, marble structure, four stories high, roughly a half kilometer long. At night, it’s bathed in soft blue light. The flags and banners of the Confederate worlds snap along its front in the winds off the ocean, and thousands of visitors arrive every day to gawk and take pictures. At night, the dazzling light display draws even larger crowds.
The Council meets there; the executive offices are located symbolically on the lower floors; and the Court convenes in the eastern wing. A series of fountains feed the White Pool, which runs the length of the building.
The Archive, which houses the Constitution, the Compact, and the other founding documents, is adjacent the Court. At the opposite end of the White Pool stands the Silver Tower of the Confederacy. In the daytime, visitors can go inside the Tower and take the elevator to the top, where a balcony circles the building. There are substantial crowds at almost any hour. Which was why I’d chosen the location.
I called Fenn. He was out of the office. At home. I had the code for his place, but he’d not be able to reach the Tower in time. So I left a message for Alex, grabbed my scrambler and put it in my jacket, jumped into my skimmer-it was now the only one we had left-and took off. Then I started to call Fenn again. But I hesitated. He’d send somebody from the station and maybe scare Kiernan away.
In a crowd, on the ground, I should be reasonably safe. If it was a setup, I thought I’d taken the initiative away from him.
It was starting to snow as I lifted away from the country house. But traffic was light going downtown, and I made good time, dropping onto one of the capitol landing pads with ten minutes yet to get to the Tower.
I patted my jacket, reassured by the bulge. I wished I had something lethal, but you can’t really get your hands on a serious weapon without going through a lot of red tape. If it came to it, though, the scrambler would put his lights out, and that would be sufficient.
In case you’re wondering, I was qualified to use the weapon. I wasn’t exactly an expert, but in my full-time piloting days there’d been places I’d gone that you didn’t want to visit unarmed.
The snow had all but stopped. There hadn’t been enough to get any accumulation, but it felt as if more was coming.
The landing pads are on the roof of the Archives. You ride down in an elevator and come out one of the ramps into Confederate Square, close to the statue of Tarien Sim. The usual sight-seers were thinning out, most headed for dinner, some just getting out of the weather. I hurried along the perimeter of the White Pool toward the Tower.
It was closed for the evening when I got there, but there were still people gathered around its entrance, looking up toward the illuminated balcony. It was an obelisk, not really all that high. Only a few stories, actually. But it was a brilliant piece of craftsmanship-reflective, seamless, polished. It had been erected more than two centuries ago as a tribute to the men and women who had come to the aid of the Dellacondans and their allies in the long war against the Mutes. That was the action that had led directly to the formation of the Confederacy, which marked the first time in its long history that the human family had stood united. Well, almost united. There were always places like Korrim Mas.
It occurred to me belatedly that I should have worn a wig, or done something else to change my appearance.
I scanned the crowd, looking for Kiernan. There was no sign of him, but I was still a few minutes early. I stayed close to a group of tourists who were gathered at the edge of the pool. They were mostly standing with their heads back, looking up. I did much the same, while trying to keep an eye on my ground-level surroundings.
I’d assumed coming out that I was reasonably safe. But I began thinking how easy it would be to pick somebody off at that location. There were lots of bushes and trees lining the pool, and still more scattered across the Square. Any of them could hide a sniper. For that matter there was nothing to stop a killer from walking up alongside me and using a knife. It would be over before I knew there was a problem.
So I kept my back to the pool, tried to watch the shrubbery, tried to watch everything.
A family of three paused in front of me and took pictures of the Tower. On the far side of the pool, someone squealed in delight, and I saw running kids.
It was past the designated hour.
If he’d been unable to get here, he would have called. Right? Tried to get a delay.
A security bot wheeled past.
An older man with three or four people in tow explained how young he had been when he’d first gone there, and how the city had changed since then.
A couple of lovers strode by, holding hands, absorbed in each other.
A skimmer drifted down, hovered over the pool, then hurried away. A couple of people tossed coins into the water and smiled at each other.
The crowd opened up a bit, but I still saw no sign of Kiernan.
A group of young boys, all about twelve or thirteen, invaded the area. A kuwallah team, judging by their jackets. Two men were with them. The kids charged to the front of the Tower, and one of the men tried to slow them down.
I imagined Kiernan speeding through the night, trying to get there before I left to tell me-what? That it had all been some sort of terrible mistake? Nothing personal, you understand.
Off to my right, in the direction of the Archives, someone screamed. I heard the sound of running, then spotlights began to come on. It was a frosty sort of illumination.
People were moving toward the Archives.
Whatever was happening, I decided it was prudent to stay clear, to remain where I was. Lights appeared in the sky and began to descend. Security bots hurried past and cleared a perimeter. Within minutes, emergency and police units had arrived.