“When, exactly, is Michelle’s contract with the Darhel overdue? I see nothing explicit in here about an inside man, and we’d need one. Does she have a man inside or doesn’t she, and if not, what are your plans for how we would get a man inside, ourselves, before the whole endeavor becomes moot?”
“Her contract doesn’t go into default until May, but she’s not confident of being able to hold off a contract court, if the Epetar Group chooses to convene one, for more than about two Earth months.” She pointed to the folder. “As you inferred from that, she does have someone inside, but his willingness to help us is limited to helping influence any hiring decisions in our man’s favor.”
“A hiring decision in our favor. Or, knowing who our applicant is, he could be setting a trap. He could get caught, himself, and give our man up. Of course, no operation is without risks.” The priest propped his chin on steepled fingers for a moment.
“I understand that your sister wants this device, and I understand that she’s willing to pay very well for its retrieval.” His tone was pained, and she knew this wasn’t good. “But nothing you’ve shown us so far gives us good enough assurance of team survival to make it worth the hazard. Also, there’s no operational benefit to our organization. Thanks to your own efforts, we do have some financial breathing room. But for strictly financial supplementation, there are safer options. We have always reserved this level of risk for operations with a specific strategic goal. Unless you can show me how this qualifies, I’m afraid we’re going to have to decline,” he said.
It was not at all what Cally had expected Father O’Reilly to say, and she was temporarily at a loss for words.
“Cally, it’s not that I’m indifferent to your family interest here, or the Clan O’Neal interests, for that matter. It’s that now, more than ever before, we have to reserve major risks of trained assets to operations with major, long-term, strategic significance.” He sighed. “I would love to be able to say yes. And I have heard enough from the Indowy to have a great deal of respect for Michelle O’Neal. I’ll give you this much. If you can either bring her on board with the organization or show me why this operation has serious strategic implications that we have so far missed, we’ll reconsider.”
“Excuse me. External mind control of human beings doesn’t have serious strategic implications? And as a pure business matter, on board or not, have you considered how much having a Michon Mentat owe us favors means to this organization?” Cally blinked in disbelief.
“It’s strategic if they really have a working prototype. Just because Michelle thinks they do or are about to doesn’t mean she’s right. I know a lot about what someone with her capabilities can do, and I’m not questioning that it’s impressive. I also know that her ability to spy on the immediate environs of another mentat, without alerting him and triggering exactly the kind of conflict she’s trying to avoid, are limited. I need hard evidence. A schematic, a workable theory of function, information about the origin of the device, a man inside — hard evidence.”
“All that? You don’t want much. What if you’re wrong?”
“Not all that, just enough of it to be going on more than fears and hunches — even hers. I have to calculate our risks. I can’t do that without hard information. For something this big, I’m afraid Michelle’s unsupported word, very good though that may be, isn’t enough.”
“The assessment of a Michon Mentat, to the point of being willing to actually get involved in something, isn’t enough.” Cally was still. Shit, Father O’Reilly is never this unreasonable. I don’t think I’m going to get any more out of him than this. Not today. Fuck. Well, I’ll just get more and try to catch him in a better mood.
“If it means that much to her and she’s that sure, recruit her. That would be worth enough by itself to justify the risk. Cally, I’m sorry, but you’re thinking like a human. I have to look at Michelle’s request as if an Indowy of the same level had made it. And her motives and ends may not be our motives and ends,” O’Reilly said.
“That makes no sense.”
“Believe me, it does. This is academic, you know. She has to be basing her assessment on something. It’s enough for her to risk, even herself. But it may not be enough for us to risk. You need to meet with her. It’s time for her to show some of her cards.” The priest looked pointedly at the door, clearly dismissing her.
What the fuck’s eating him? I dunno, but I’d better find out.
Chapter Six
Cally made sure she snagged Willard Manigo for lunch. He was more plugged in to the grapevine than any three other people in the organization. She had checked the menu and had shelled out for a bottle of steak sauce to go with his soyburger, and even managed to find him a Snickers bar that was only a week past its sell-by date.
Then she waited until he got in line before sliding up behind him.
“Hey, Willard, how’s it going?” she said.
“Well, hi, Cally.” He grinned. “It just amazes me to see you here.”
“Heh. Okay, so you don’t miss much. Grab a table with me?” she asked.
“Sure. Especially since I figure you’re pretty much the reason chocolate chip cookies have made it back onto the dessert menu.” He gestured towards a corner near the conveyor belt. Not quite on people’s path out, it was still close enough for the kitchen clatter to muffle their voices.
She walked across the room with him, dodging tables and other diners, sharing a friendly greeting on the way with the people she knew well enough to be almost friends with. The steel of the chair legs squeaked on the tiles as they pulled up to the table. Even with Galplas flooring, it didn’t matter. It seemed to be a law of nature everywhere that cafeteria floors had to squeak.
“See the Old Man this morning?” he opened, picking up the steak sauce and dousing his burger. He looked at it doubtfully and gave it a few more shakes. “Hey, thanks for the stuff.”
“Yeah, I saw him. And, well… he didn’t seem too glad to see me,” Cally said.
“I think you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, again,” he said.
“What, is it just me?”
“I don’t think it’s that. It’s… well the Crabs are pissed about the heist, and they could cut the trickle of low code keys and tech we’re getting down to nothing if they wanted. And we’ve started having problems holding full-time staff because the food and pay suck — ideology only goes so far when you’ve got a family to feed. And we lost a couple of agents in Durban last week. The last few days just haven’t been good. I tell ya, my department is running fifty percent understaffed,” he said, palming the candy bar and making it disappear under the table.