"Then we've got one of the assassins?"
Tolonen shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't rule that out, but it's more likely that the man simply stumbled onto things. His ID shows him to have been a maintenance engineer, cleared for First Level Security."
DeVore considered a moment. "It sounds the ideal profession for gaining access to the dome."
"My own first thought, Howard, but it doesn't check out with anything else. We can account for his movements up to the time he got into that ventilation tunnel. We've checked. He's on camera, climbing into the access hatch only twelve minutes before the dome went up. He made one check—timed and logged—halfway up the tunnel. That accounts for the first five minutes. That'd leave him only seven minutes to climb the rest of the way, meet his partner, set the charges, and get back down."
"Time enough. And anyway, what if his partner set the charges?"
"That's possible. But then, why would he be needed? And why killed? It doesn't fit. And anyway, we have something else."
DeVore blinked. "YouVe been busy, sir."
Tblonen laughed. "Yes, well, I did try to get you, Howard. Anyway, it's possible we have our men. Two low-level sorts. They were involved in an incident with Security guards in one of the nearby stacks at Level Eleven. A CompCam unit noticed that one of the men had no ID match and had Security investigate. There was an exchange of shots and the two men got away."
DeVore was quiet a moment. "But you have them now?"
"No. Not yet. but listen to this, Howard. You'll never believe it. Do you know how they got out?"
DeVore shook his head.
"Well, our men thought they had them cornered in a distribution elevator. They'd called up a burner, ready to melt the door locks, but the two suspects did something to the elevator. They overrode its circuits, then rammed the whole thing through the floor and into the Net!"
DeVore whistled. "What happened?"
"The whole deck had to be sealed and cleaned out. A messy business. Thousands hurt. More than a hundred and fifty dead. WeVe had to put out a story about systems failure. But think about it, Howard. Our two friends must have had inside information. There aren't that many people who know those elevators go down another ten levels. Just as important, however, is the fact that they had a device that overrode the circuitry." He paused. "It makes sense of other things too. My guess is that they were dropped in. Picked up at one of the under-Net gates— perhaps near one of the agricultural processing stations—and landed on top of the City. They did the job, made their escape down the ventilation shaft—killing our maintenance man on the way—then emerged at Eleven."
DeVore nodded slowly. "It. . . makes a kind of sense."
"Good. I'm glad you think so. In which case there are a few other questions that need answers. Who were their contacts? Who gave them the information? Who trained them? Who physically landed them on the roof? This kind of operation would have needed a lot of planning. A substantial number of people would have been involved."
Again DeVore nodded, but this time there was an air of distraction about him.
The General leaned forward excitedly. "Just think, Howard. If we could get to just one of those involved—just one!—we could blast the whole thing open!" He laughed, then slammed his hands down firmly on the desk top. "And in order that we can do just that, I've been to see the T'ang."
"Sir?" DeVore seemed surprised by this new development.
"Yes, Howard. The T'ang has given me authority. The authority to cut through bureaucratic tape, to make deals, grant pardons, whatever's necessary, providing we get information on the people who were behind this." He smiled broadly. "So you see, Howard. What you brought me was of great interest. If Wyatt was involved, either as principal or as agent. . . well, I want him. Understand? I want to know what his motive was, who his connections were."
"So you think it might be him?"
The General was silent for a time, then he shrugged. "I don't know. I thought. . . well, you know what I thought. I listened to the tape of your conversation with Lehmann. He's an unpleasant specimen, but I agree with you. He's too bluff, too careless in what he says, to have been behind this. As for Wyatt, I've met him more than once, and I liked him." Again he shrugged. "Still, do what you must. The T'ang wants answers, and he wants them fast."
WHEN DEVORE had gone, Tolonen summoned the ensign, Haavikko.
Axel Haavikko was a tall, broad-shouldered young man of nineteen years, his blond hair cut severely short. On his jacket he wore the insignia of the elite military school from which he had graduated only eight months previously, on his chest the embroidered sea-horse patch of a ninth-grade military officer. He marched briskly across the room and came to attention before the desk.
"Sir?"
The General smiled. "At ease, boy. Have you got the tape?"
"Yes, sir. But I thought—"
Tblonen raised an eyebrow. "I know. But I decided against it. Major DeVore doesn't need to know everything. He's tired. I could see it myself. He's taking on too much, trying to keep abreast of everything."
He leaned back in his chair, studying the young man; observing that he, too, was showing signs of strain. "We could all do with some rest, eh, Haavikko? A break from things. But the evil of this world goes on, whether we're there to deal with it or not." He smiled kindly. "Okay, let's see what we have."
The cadet bowed, then turned and went over to the viewer, placing the flimsy transparent card he was carrying onto the viewing surface. Immediately the wall screen above his head lit up, showing two men pushing their way through a broad but crowded corridor. The tape sheet had been put together from segments of hundreds of individual tape sheets, then edited to make it seem as though a single camera had followed the suspects the whole length of the Main.
"These are the two men, sir. The one on the left was addressed as Jyan. The other is unnamed. There's no entry on either in Security Central records."
The General sniffed. "Hold that a moment."
The image froze. A sign behind the first of the men read LEVEL ELEVEN, SOUTH 3 STACK, CANTON OF MUNICH, the English in blocked black figures above the blood red Mandarin pictograms. Crowds packed the Main. The second man—better built than the first; the telltale bulge of a knife at his waist—had turned to left profile, revealing a short, livid scar on his neck just below the ear.
"Interesting types, eh, Axel? From the Net. There's no doubt about it. If Security Central has nothing, then I'm certain these are our men. Can we tell where they appeared from?"
Axel tapped the controls. At once the picture changed— showed a smaller corridor; dimly lit, almost empty.
"Where's this?"
"Up five levels, sir. At Sixteen. It's a maintenance corridor. Not used by the Public. Watch."
As they watched, a hatch dropped down from the ceiling and two men lowered themselves into the corridor, one after the other. The two Han from the other shots.
"Where does that lead?"
"There's a long vertical shaft, about twenty ch'i back from that hatch. It comes out at Forty-one. There we lose them."
"Any reason why?"
"Camera malfunction. Vandalism. It seems genuine. TheyVe been having trouble with that section for weeks, apparently."
"Okay. So let's get back to Eleven. See what kind of men we're dealing with."
For the next ten minutes they watched in silence as the situation unfolded. They saw the fight. Saw Jyan draw and use his knife, then drive the loader into the elevator. Then, less than a minute later, the screen went blank.
"That's all that survived, sir. When the quarantine seals came down most of the cameras blew. We've pieced this together from Central Records' copies."
Tolonen nodded, satisfied. "YouVedoneagoodjob, Haavikko. It shouldn't be difficult to trace these two. We have arrangements with certain of the Triad bosses beneath the Net. They'll find them for us. It's only a question of time."