Law of Survival (12 page)

Roni's jaw dropped. “You found out a hell of a lot more than I did!”

“Friends in high places.” Jani paused, recalling Val
Parini's shouted description of the penalties for cracking sealed juvenile court records.

“I came up against brick wall after brick wall. Anais finally called me into her office one day and ordered me to cease and desist. Even she acted nervous.” Roni hesitated. “What I'm trying to say is…he has a past worth hiding, and that begs the question of what he's gotten up to in the present.” She held up a documents slipcase. “And, unfortunately, all I have to go on is this letter, purportedly from the idomeni ambassador, and I don't know how to make it tell me what I need to know.”

Jani eyed the slipcase, which had a smooth finish rather than pebbled. “That's The Nema Letter.”

Roni nodded. “Peter commented that you took exception to the rough finish of the slipcase you saw yesterday. You were correct, of course. We've been using them for, oh, two months now, and our Doc Repair hours have tripled. You can't stack the damned things—the pebbles push into and damage any insert they touch. I memoed Purchasing about them myself, but we buy them from one of Her Excellency's companies. I may as well spit into a hurricane.” She pushed aside a pile, then extracted the letter and placed it in the cleared space. “I've taken to switching them out myself on the sly.”

“I didn't get the chance to scan farther than the initiator chip.” Jani removed her scanpack from her bag and activated it, then set the bag and the scanpack on the desk as she dragged her chair closer. “I want to—”

The office door opened, helped along by several Security guards. Two entered, splitting off like demiskimmers in formation and circling to either side of the desk. Two remained outside, bracketing the door like statuary.

Then Lescaux strode in, hands locked behind his back.

“Peter!”
Roni shot to her feet. “How bloody dare you!”

Lescaux walked up to the desk and rooted through Jani's duffel. “How bloody dare you let this woman on the premises without clearing it with me.” He picked up the top file, read the title tab, then shoved it back inside.

“You have no jurisdiction here!”

“I have every jurisdiction when I feel the security of the Commonwealth is at risk.”

“Anais is going to hear about this.”

“Anais is behind me one hundred percent.”

As the argument waged around her, Jani eyed the letter, sitting like a holiday plum in the middle of Roni's desk. She then glanced at the guards, who deserved note mostly for their height and musculature.
If I made a grab for the letter, it would be a race to see which one broke my arm first.
Odds were square that they'd break her left arm, and she'd be inconvenienced only for the time it took John to switch out a new limb. Even a right break would put her out of commission for no more than a few hours.
Wouldn't solve the essential problem, though.
Namely, how to get the letter off Roni's desk and into her duffel.

“—trumped-up little bastard!” Roni's breathing had gone ragged from rage. “Aryton at Registry will hear about this, you can be damned sure!”

Dolly?
Yes, Five of Six did work at Registry, didn't she? Registry Inspector General, so her title went. Pretty much ran the place. Jani hadn't tried to contact her since she'd settled in the city. They had gotten along well enough at Academy, but between work and health, there just hadn't been time.

“Dorothea Aryton is a good Family woman. She will not involve herself in matters of state”—Lescaux shot a disgusted look at Jani—“unlike some documents examiners I could name.”

Roni braced her hands on the edge of her desk and leaned forward. “Listen, Beddy Boy—”

“It's all right, Ms. McGaw.” Jani stowed her scanpack and rearranged the files Lescaux had muddled. “Just return me my sample docs, and I'll be on my way.”

Roni proved at that moment that she could have guarded the third baseline for any professional baseball team in the Commonwealth. Her eyes lit with anger-fueled glee. “Of course, Ms. Kilian. I appreciate your…understanding.” She plucked a few random documents off the top of one of her piles, then stacked them together with The Nema Letter and tucked them into the substitute slipcase that Jani hoped and prayed Lescaux hadn't seen before. “I appreciate you taking the time to consult with me on this matter.” With
steady hand and steely countenance, she held out the case to Jani.

Jani took her time tucking the slipcase into her duffel. She made sure the guards could see everything she did, and didn't move too quickly or stealthily. She shut the bag and shouldered it. Her heart beat slowly. Her hands felt dry. The twitchiness in her limbs vanished as augie took the controls.

She turned, and walked to the door.

“Hold it!”

Jani pulled up.
Oh well.
Roni had shown unexpected nerve, which probably signaled the end of her career at Exterior. But she'd find another job—Jani would help—

Lescaux stepped between her and the door. Anger firmed the line of his jaw and chilled his eyes, strengthening his resemblance to Lucien. “The affidavit, if you please.”

Jani looked down quickly. “Of course, Mr. Lescaux.” She undid the clasps of her duffel and picked through the files until she came upon the familiar pebbled slipcase. She removed it from the stack, handed it to Lescaux, and closed her bag.

“I should have expected this from you, considering our last conversation.” He tucked the file under his arm and stepped to the side. “This was not the time for cheap dirty tricks.”

Jani departed the office. Two of the guards preceded her. Two brought up the rear. She waited for the pound of footsteps from behind, the shout for her to once more
“Hold it!”
But the only steps she heard were those of the guards, and her own easy stride.

She walked through the lobby. Out the door and down the drive. Her heart tripped as she approached the sensor fence and it struck her that Exterior might lock-chip its documents and that third baseman McGaw hadn't had the chance to perform an unlock. But she passed through the sensors with nary a blip or beep.

The rear guard peeled off as Jani mounted the steps to the L platform. The lead pair stayed, bookending her silently as she waited, and remained on the platform until she boarded and the train pulled away.

Jani sat, still and silent, duffel cradled in her lap. She stud
ied the other passengers, on the alert for someone who sat too close or looked at her for a little too long. After a time, she lowered her bag to the floor and opened it. Using the blip scanner she had secreted in the scanproof compartment, she checked the letter and slipcase for any tags, collars, or leashes. The testing proved negative, to her relief. She would have hated to ditch the valuable document beneath the seat if she had found an attached sensor, but she also had no intention of allowing Exterior to track her every waking move.

She then checked the soles of her shoes. Roni's office had been carpeted, and carpets could transfer all kinds of nasty things. Most people knew enough to search their pockets, the cuffs of the trousers, their hair. But they seldom checked their shoes.

After assuring herself of bug-free status, Jani disembarked at the next stop. She then waited for three trains to depart before boarding the fourth, a local that stopped at every lamppost. She rode it past her Armour Place stop, into the heart of the shopping district, getting off with the bulk of the passengers at the station across from a large mall.

She used the main entrance, taking care to stay with the crowd. Boarded the lift, hit the pad for the fourth floor, and got off on the third. Hurried to the nearest bathroom and shut herself in a stall. Only then did she sag against the wall, and pound her fist into her open hand.

Jani wandered the mall to kill time, and surprised herself by actually committing
purchase
. She visited a religious shop, and pored over the shelves of figurines until she found her Lord Ganesha. The statuette she chose stood about ten centimeters high. The four-armed elephant sat upon a lotus throne, a mouse at his feet. He held a lasso in one hand, and wore a gold-weave snake around his waist.

Remove the obstacles that impede my mission, Lord, I pray.
Jani cradled the Ganesha in her arms as she roamed the store. She picked a brass bowl to hold offerings, and a teakwood pedestal to serve as an altar. The size and weight of the pedestal precluded her carrying it with her, so she arranged to have everything delivered unto Hodge's sterling care.

She bewildered herself even more with the next items she bought. She didn't like shopping for clothes. Her business attire copied the uniform style she'd grown used to in the Service—conservative in color, severe in cut. Casual clothes were anything she could talk Lucien into scrounging for her from Service stores.

And then there were
nice
clothes, the evening dresses that John Shroud sent her in the unfulfilled hope that she would wear them in his company. Murderously expensive confections all, perfectly fitted and exquisitely shaded. She had yet to wear any of them, despite Lucien's assurances that he was more than willing to act as dresser.

I don't like to dress up.
Even so, she couldn't tear away from the display of saris. The one that claimed her attention
shone blue-green as sunlit seas, bordered in a chainlink pattern of gold and silver threads. She finally entered the shop to inquire as to the sari's price, gasped, and bought it anyway, escalating the damage by adding the platinum-dyed short-sleeve top, wrap trousers, and slippers that completed the outfit.

I need something to wear for the folks.
Her mother, Jamira, always dressed in bright colors—she said they cheered her in the Acadian cold.
This will make her happy,
Jani thought as she fingered the turquoise silk. She then followed her newly acquired habit and had everything sent to Hodge.

Just remember to scan it before you bring it inside the flat.
Jani made that note to herself as she settled into a comport booth in one of the public stands that dotted the mall. She'd determined by her many passes through the area that no one had followed her from Exterior. Now she dug an untraceable credit chit—the sort one could buy from a vend machine—from her pocket, ran it through the comport pay slot, and punched in a code.

A prim young face appeared on the display. “Registry?”

“Aryton, please.”

The young woman stared. “You're—”

“Yes.” Jani forced a smile.

“I'll…tell…” The desk emitted a tight little sigh as the display blanked.

Jani picked through the files in needless confirmation of the presence of The Nema Letter. “Bet she knows the words to that damned poem, too.”

The display came up again, more quickly than she'd hoped.

“Jan?” Dorothea Aryton looked out at her with the solemn quizzicality that Hansen Wyle had christened “Juno rising.” “My God.” She still wore her thick black hair bound in a head-wrapping braid. Sharp Family bones, broadened more than usual across the cheekbone and brow, served as frame for clear blue eyes. Her skin had tanned red-brown from a summer of outdoor activity. Sailracing, if Jani remembered correctly. A risky sport for the seasonal amateur, but Dolly had always been willing to skirt the edges when they lived on Shèrá. Apparently, that still held true.

Apparently.

“You look…a different sort of person.” Dolly squinted, grooving the skin around her eyes. Her voice still emerged in its own good time, drawled Virginia Provincial. “Impish, before. Now…” She sat back and folded her arms. “Solemn.” She touched a hand to her chin. “I don't believe it.”

“That it's me?”

“That you've grown solemn to match your face.” Dolly pushed papers about her desk. “We've waited for you to call. Carson and I. He heads NUVA-SCAN Fraud, you know. Right down the street from Registry. We're the only others in town. Ennegret manages the Family money in London, and Gina consults out of Jo'burg.” Her hand stilled. “You're calling from a public place.”

Jani exhaled with a rumble. She'd forgotten Dolly's charming habit of approaching from all sides at once. “Yes.”

“You always did.” Dolly smiled, a minute shallowing along the corner of her mouth. “And I'm doing all the talking, as ever and always.”

“I received a notice that there's a problem with one of my position filings.” Jani tilted her head to the left as she held out her right hand, palm open and facing down. A Laum gesture, signifying grave worry. “If you have the time, I'd like to discuss it with you.”

Dolly's eyes narrowed. The pleading inherent in the gesture didn't match the sort of routine document dispute Jani described. “I have some time now, as it happens.”

“Allow me fifteen minutes.” Jani gathered her gear, then paused and looked back at the display. “How's Cairn?”

“She's well, thank you.” Dolly smiled again, winter-cool. “Social niceties discharged, Jani Kilian. You can come out now.” The display blanked, leaving Jani to stare at the fading blue-to-grey.

 

Afternoon commuters filled the train—Jani switched her duffel from one shoulder to the other so she could change her grip on the overhead strap. Her back bothered her enough that she would have preferred sitting, but the standing view served her better. She stood near the rear of the car and monitored every embark and debark, watched every head and action. She imagined Nema's letter growing heav
ier in her bag with each passing minute, and wondered how well Roni could lie when pressed. If Lescaux possessed any wit at all, he would have wanted to reassure himself of the letter's presence immediately after ordering Jani off Exterior property. That meant Roni would have had to stall.
Straddle that third base line, McGaw
. What Jani planned to do, she could complete in a few hours. After that, let Lescaux track her down.

The train slowed. Stopped. Jani pushed along with the crush, shifting her duffel so she could guard it by holding it against her chest, grabbing at the handrails to keep from falling as her right knee grew wobbly.

The Registry resided on LaSalle Street, in a silvery glass tower that possessed the smooth, featureless surfaces of refrozen ice. Jani pushed through the nonscan front entry into the skylit lobby, then immediately veered to the right and palmed through another set of doors that funneled down a narrow hallway. As the doors swept aside, she saw Dolly Aryton standing at the hall's far end, distant smile still in place.

“Prompt, as always. Hansen always said he trusted you more than any timepiece.” The reserve cracked as she watched Jani walk toward her. She folded her arms and touched a fist to her chin—the contact turned to tapping that became faster and faster as the distance between them shortened. “My God.”

“You already said that, Doll.”

“Then I'll say it again. My God.” Dolly looked Jani up and down, ticking off the differences between the woman with whom she'd schooled and the one that stood before her now. “It suits you, though. It hides. Gives the impression that you are what you're not.” She took a step back—she wore trousers and wrap shirt in an autumnal shade of melon, and the flowing material swept around her wrists and ankles. “Collected. Contained.”

Jani suppressed a sharp comment. Her back griped from the walk, and she was in no mood for Dolly's pronouncements. “I
am
collected and contained.”

“If you insist.” Dolly took a step closer, her gaze fixed on the top of Jani's head. “You're taller than I am now.”

“Yes.”
Jani stared until Dolly arched her brow and backed away.

“As I said, Carson and I have been waiting for you to call.” Dolly turned and walked up the hall toward the lift-bank, gesturing for Jani to follow. “Now you have. Since we both know you're not the sentimental sort, to what do I owe this reunion?”

Jani realized protest would be futile. Dolly had pegged her during their comport conversation—it was one of her more disconcerting talents.
Business. I'm here for business. That's all I ever had in common with you and Carson, and Gina, and Ennie.
Only the long-dead Hansen had been a friend.
You others are just people I used to know.
She followed Dolly into the lift car and waited for the doors to close. “It's Nema.”

Dolly frowned. “I understand he's having a hard time working with Shai.”

“It's gone beyond that. I believe Shai and Cèel are trying to force him from office.”

“That's
our
style. The idomeni don't operate that way.”

“I think they're starting to learn.”

Dolly appeared to stare at the floor indicator, but Jani could detect the far-off look in her eyes, the telltale sign of a wicked turn of thought. “You think Nema's in danger.”

“Yes, I do—” The lift decelerated, and Jani grabbed the railing as her head rocked and a wave of chills shook her.
What the hell's wrong now!
Maybe she should have eaten at the mall. Maybe her second dance with augie neared its finale, signaling the end to her ability to concentrate. Or maybe yet another new wrinkle had developed in her everchanging physical state.

“Are you all right?” Dolly moved toward her, voice mellow with concern.

Jani hurried out of the lift as soon as the door opened and ducked into a furnished alcove. “Dolly, I may not have much time.” She lowered into a chair and dropped her bag over the side. “I need a vacuumbox, a full set of tools, and access to paper and chips. I need…a copier.”

Dolly crouched in front of her. She pressed a hand to Jani's forehead, then to her cheek. “You're
freezing.
You
need a doctor.”

“I'm used to it—it will pass!” Jani grabbed Dolly's wrist and yanked her hand away from her face. She didn't think she squeezed that hard—why did Dolly wince? “I have a lot to do and not much time in which to do it. Someone is depending on me—I need to get started now.”

Dolly straightened smoothly, like the athlete she was. “You want to copy a document, then alter the copy.” Her dulcet voice hardened. “You want to fake—”

“The thing I've got is a fake. I just want to make another fake with a few differences. Then I want to feed it back into play and watch where the alarms sound.”

Dolly turned away and walked across the alcove to the picture window behind them. She considered the view as precious seconds ticked by. “I look out this window, eighty floors above the streets of Chicago, but what I see is the Rauta Shèràa Consulate courtyard. I can feel the summer's raw heat through the glass. I expect to see Laumrau skimmers float into view, and watch the Laumrau walk and gesture again. Hear their loopy voices.” She pressed her palms against the pane. “All because you show up in rough clothes with a bag on your shoulder and a wild story about Nema. You look different, yet the same, and anyone who doubted your identity would know you as soon as you opened your mouth. Always scamming. Always feeding back. Always looking for alarms.” She turned. Her face held sadness and frustration. “That war is over, and this one, if this is indeed one, is none of your business.”

Jani hoisted her duffel onto her lap. It dragged like lead. “I need your help.”

“This is Registry. We're supposed to
stop
what you want to do.”

“I only have a few hours.”

“You're not listening.”

“
Neither are you.
I want to replace what I believe to be a fake with another fake. A double-reverse. Registry investigators do it all the time when they suspect documents fraud and they want to trace-back.”

“You have no jurisdiction.”

Jani tried to stand. Her head rocked. “Maybe Carson will
help me. You said he's down the street at NUVA-SCAN?” She tried to grab the chair arms for balance, missed, and fell back.

Dolly's hands flew to her face. “You never grew up, did you? You just got older!” She cut around furniture and hurried to her side. “What is the matter with you!”

Jani struggled to a half-crouch, then slowly rose. “I need a vacuumbox, tools, a copier, and access to supplies. I came here because I knew that you'd have it all at the ready.”

Dolly grabbed her arm to help support her. “You're in no condition—”

Jani pressed a hand to her stomach, and felt as well as heard the grumble. “Get me food. Chili. Curry. Something spicy. No milk or cheese. Bread—bread is good, but no butter. And coffee.” She looked into her old schoolmate's eyes, and saw the anger and the aggravation.
“Dolly. Please.”
She tried to get the sense of the sailracer, to find the wedge that would win her the opening she needed. “One thing you must admit, Dorothea Aryton, grubby, raving thing that I was—”

“I never said grubby or—”

“—is that on those hot summer days at the Rauta Shèràa Consulate, the one thing I never did was waste your time.”

Something flickered in Dolly's eyes. Not a softening—never that, not between them. A touch of memory, maybe. Of jobs done well, and more importantly, of those left undone. She gripped Jani's arm more firmly, positioning herself so that they could walk side-by-side. “The Registry cannot support you if this backfires.”

Jani almost sagged with relief, but stopped herself. Dolly wouldn't be a sure sale until the job was done, and she couldn't allow her any excuse to back out. “Of course not.”

They started down the hall toward the workrooms. As they passed a sealed door, Jani caught the sulfurous rank of the nutrient tanks, where the new scanpack brains grew and developed. Her empty stomach turned.