"Yes?" Cho Hsiang stood up, letting Big White help him into his big mock-beaver coat.
"Tell him he'll have no more trouble. Okay?"
Cho Hsiang smiled tightly. "Good." He turned, as if to leave, then turned back. "I'll be seeing you then, Kao Jyan."
Jyan nodded, all the cockiness gone from him.
"Oh, and Jyan ... see to the bill for me, eh?"
"What have we got?"
The technician tapped at the keys, running the recording back for analysis. Then 'he leaned back, letting DeVore read from the screen for himself.
Fifty-one words total. Fourteen repetitions. Total vocabulary thirty-seven words.
"It's not enough."
The technician shook his head. "Maybe not for direct speech transposition. But we could generate new words from the sounds we have. There's a considerable range of tones here. The computer can create a gestalt—a whole speech analogue—from very little. We've more than enough here to do that. You write the script, the machine will get him to say it. And not even his mother would know it wasn't him saying it."
DeVore laughed. "Good. Then we'll move quickly on this." He took a hard file from his jacket pocket and handed it to the technician. "Here's what I want our friend Jyan to say."
The technician hesitated fractionally, then nodded. "Okay. I'll get to work on it right away. Will tomorrow be too late? Midday?"
DeVore smiled and slapped the technician's back. "Tomorrow's fine. I'll collect it myself."
He went out, heading back down toward the Net. It was still early. In under four hours he was due to meet the General to make his report. There was time enough, meanwhile, to set things up.
In the Security elevator, descending, he made contact with the two men he had left outside Big White's.
"How's our man?"
The answer came back into his earpiece. "He's still inside, sir."
"Good. If he comes out, follow at a distance. But don't make a move. Not yet. I want them both, remember."
He had barely closed contact when an urgent message came through on his wrist console. It was Lehmann again, his face taut with worry.
"What is it, Pietr?"
Lehmann hesitated, conscious that he was speaking on an open channel, then took the risk. "The missing body. I know who it is. It's Yang Lai's man, Pi Ch'ien."
"I see. So where is he?"
Lehmann laughed anxiously. "That's just it. I've been checking up. There's no trace of him. He hasn't been seen since the assassination."
"So he's in hiding?"
"It seems so."
"Right. Leave it to me." He paused. "All's well apart from that?"
Lehmann hesitated, then gave the coded answer. "It's a cloudless sky, Howard. I ... well, I'll see you sometime, yes?"
DeVore closed contact. So Yang Lai was dead. Good. That was one thing less to worry about.
The elevator slowed, then came to a halt. For a moment DeVore stood there, his hand almost touching the Door Open pad, his skin, beneath the simple one-piece he was wearing, tingling from the decontamination procedure. Then, clear in mind what he had to do, he hit the pad and went outside, into the Net.
CHAPTER THREE
A Game of Static Patterns
FIFTH BELL WAS SOUNDING when Major DeVore reported to General Tolonen in his office at the top of the vast fortresslike barracks that housed Security Central. The General stood as he came into the room and came around his desk to greet DeVore, a broad smile on his chiseled face.
"Good day, Howard. How are things?"
DeVore bowed at waist and neck, then straightened up, meeting the old man's eyes. "Not good, sir. Our investigation of the Minister's death is proving more difficult than I thought."
The General looked at him a moment longer, then nodded. Briefly he rested a hand on the Major's arm, as if to reassure him, then turned and went back behind his desk. Ensconced in his chair again he leaned forward, motioning to DeVore to take a seat. "Still nothing, eh?"
DeVore gave the smallest hint of a bow then sat. "Not quite, sir."
Tolonen tilted his chin back, interested. "I see. What have you got?"
"Nothing certain. Only rumor. But it may prove a lead."
"Anything I should know about?"
DeVore took the tiny tape from his tunic pocket, wiped it on the cloth, then handed it across the desk. Tolonen sat back and pushed the wafer-thin cassette into the input socket behind his left ear. For a minute or two he sat there, silent, his eyes making small, erratic movements in their sockets. Then, as if coming to again, he looked directly at his Major.
"Interesting, Howard. Very interesting." Tolonen squeezed the narrow slit of skin behind his ear and removed the tape. "But how reliable is this?"
DeVore tilted his head slightly, considering. "Normally I'd say it was highly reliable. But the circumstances of this case— particularly its political importance—make it more complex than usual. It would be unwise to take things at face value. For now I'm having the sources checked out. Playing ear. However"— he hesitated, then spoke again, studying the General more closely than before—"there is something else, sir. Something perhaps more important in the long run."
"Go on, Howard."
"Well, sir. I'm almost certain this involves Security. Maybe at StarTlevel."
Tolonen looked at him directly for some moments, then nodded soberly, his expression unchanged. "I agree—though with great reluctance, I must say. The very thought of it makes me shudder."
DeVore bowed his head sympathetically, "Then—"
Tolonen stopped him with a look. "Let me outline the situation as I see it, Howard. Then we'll see how this new information fits with what we have."
DeVore sat straighter in his chair; his eyes watching the older man intently as he outlined the situation.
"First—what kind of weapon was used, and where and by whom was it manufactured?" Tolonen pulled broad, long fingers through neatly cut gray hair, his deeply blue eyes fixing DeVore. "We're working on the assumption that it was some kind of ice derivative. An ice eater. Research into ice derivatives has been banned by the Edict, but we're not dealing with legitimate activity here. It's therefore possible that someone has come up with such a thing.
"Second—who knew Lwo Kang would be there at that time? Most of those we might have suspected—Lwo's own junior ministers—died with him. Only Yang Lai is unaccounted for."
DeVore nodded. "No trace yet, sir. But we're still looking."
"Good. Now, third—who took the Security squad off duty?
Are we safe in assuming it was the duty captain, or was someone higher up the chain of command behind the decision?" Tolonen paused and shook his head. "It seems almost inexplicable to me that the officer concerned acted independently. His record was without blemish and his suicide would seem to confirm it. But he was a frightened man, Howard. I believe he was acting under threat."
"I agree, sir. I knew the man as a cadet and I'd vouch that he would not have acted as he did without good reason. Our assumption is that his immediate family was threatened. We haven't yet located them—but whether that's because he placed them in hiding or whether they were taken we don't know. Even so, we mustn't rule out another motive. Gambling debts, perhaps. Or some kind of addiction. Women, maybe. Even the best men have their weaknesses. In any case, I have a squad investigating it."
"Good. Then, fourth—who were the actual assassins? As you know, our first idea was that it was done from the air—from a craft overflying the dome. But now we've ruled that out."
"Sir?" DeVore tensed slightly, suddenly more alert.
"A search of the area surrounding the dome has brought a number of new items to light, chief among which is a corpse."
"A corpse?"
"Yes. We found the body crammed into a narrow feed tunnel, not far from a ventilation shaft that comes out close by the dome. A Hung Mao. Male. Aged thirty-five. He'd been stabbed twice with a large-bladed knife. Very expertly, so I'm told."