robert Charrette - Arthur 02 - A King Beneath the Mountain (26 page)

John held back. There was only a single place setting. He might have expected Wilson to have eaten, but what about

Sue? The door to Sue's room was closed, and Sue was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Sue?"

"Still asleep in her room. I thought you'd appreciate a quiet breakfast," Wilson said cheerily.

John always appreciated a quiet breakfast. And he hadn't wanted to face more of Sue's questions; he had a lot of his own, and with her at the table he'd never get the chance to ask Wilson any of them. Still, he found himself a little disturbed by her apparently enforced absence.

"1 got some questions I want answered," he told the dwarf
as
he sat down.

"I'm sure." Wilson quirked up one side of his mouth as John's stomach growled out its impatience. "Ought to eat first. The coffee'll get cold." The smell
was
appetizing. Wilson lifted the lid on one of the platters, revealing a stack of flapjacks. "Dig in."

John did, deciding he could ask his questions while he ate.

It took a while to check out each of the platters. He took a little of everything, nibbling as he went; it all looked, and lasted, so good. Once his plate was jammed, he dug in earnestly. As it turned out, he got so busy stuffing his face that Wilson asked the first question.

"You think this Spillway Sue is trustworthy?"

John hadn't really thought about it and said so. "Why do you want to know?"

"Now that we know you'll help, I can make other arrangements for her." His hand indicated the room. "If you wish, that is."

Wilson was awfully accommodating all of a sudden. Maybe he could take advantage of the change in attitude. "You mean leave? That's what she wants to do."

"That's not advisable yet."

"As you said, I've agreed to help—and you came looking for me, after all, not her. Want to tell me why she can't go?"

"No."

"Right." So much for a more positive and cooperative attitude. "You think you've got something for her to do that'll keep her happy, or at least quiet?"

"Nothing will keep her quiet," Wilson replied, with a confidential wink. "You want separate quarters?"

John almost said yes. Sue wasn't taking her confinement well at all; if she were separated from John, the only other nondwarf in the place, her cabin fever might get violent. They hadn't met under very friendly circumstances, but they were in the same predicament. She might not be the best of company, but she was the closest thing to an ally he had at the moment. And, when it came down to it,
he
didn't want to be alone among the dwarves. So he said, "Nah, we'll get along."

Wilson nodded, smirking. "Like a dragon with a panther."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Think of a cat and dog crammed into a small box." A chime sounded. "Time for another session with Bear."

John had barely started his breakfast. Was there time for a few more bites? He looked down at his empty plate; he'd hoovered it all down.

Wilson beckoned to him from the door. "You can have more later. Never seen an elf put so much away so fast. You trying to look like one of us?"

John stood, feeling the heaviness in his belly. "I'm too tall."

"Got that right. Let's go. Bear's waiting."

Bear looked down the line of his men, nodding to each as he met their eyes. When Bear's eyes met John's, the king smiled slightly. John found himself smiling back.

So far, the Saxons in the camp below had shown no sign of noticing their approach. That was the way Bear had wanted it. They readied their weapons while business in the camp went on as usual.

This wasn't exactly the sort of thing John had imagined when he'd dreamed of being a dashing warrior and serving a king, but it was more like it than the time he and Bear had spent on the streets. It was dirtier and a lot less glamorous than John's childhood dreams of knighthood, but there hadn't been real knights in Bear's historical time. There'd been real warriors, though, and in this sim he was one of them.

The sim had such conviction that he sometimes had trouble remembering that he
was
in a simulation. It felt and looked and sounded—smelled—so real. This dwarf sim was light-ycars better than any adventure in the arcades. John didn't think even milspec-training sims were this detailed.

Staring down at the unwitting Saxons below them, he wondered if the dwarves used magic to enhance the computer effects, but knew as the question formed in his mind that it wasn't so. He wasn't sure how he could be so confident that I here was no magic present, but he was. This was tech, pure tech—magical, but absolutely technomagical.

Bear raised Caliburn and brought it down in a slash. Roaring, John and the others swept over the rise and poured down on the surprised Saxons.

Jessie grabbed a selection of Nuke 'Em™ meals from the freezer case of the convenience store. She didn't pay a lot of attention to what meals she grabbed so long as they didn't include any peas. Her friends didn't like peas.

She still remembered the morning she'd woken to find the casting she'd needed to complete for the Greyshelda Prototypes contract all finished. She hadn't done the work; she had no idea who had. But she couldn't afford spurning the gift; it had allowed her to get the piece in by deadline. By the time she'd returned home from the delivery, though, she'd been creeped out from thinking about somebody using her tools and equipment and working in her shop while she slept. She'd spent the next few nights with a friend, too afraid to stay in her apartment.

Now she thought she'd been pretty silly to be afraid. There was nothing to be afraid of; her friends weren't scary. She'd never been a believer in good fairies, but she had always accepted what her senses told her. A finished piece was a finished piece. And if it was magic that made it happen, then there was magic in the world. Cheap magic it was, that could be bought with a few Nuke 'Em meals.

Jessie knew a bargain when she saw one.

She 'waved the meals just before going to bed, and left them on her worktable beside the models and enough molding and casting material for the three copies the new contract specified. Her delivery meeting was at ten in the morning. She went to sleep confident that the copies would be ready.

They were sitting on the table when she awoke.

Jessie sang as she showered. It was going to be a good day.

CHAPTER

13

Nakaguchi didn't stand when Pamela entered his office. The breach of etiquette didn't bode well. Before she was halfway across the room, he spoke.

"Is this about your budget?"

"It is." He had changed her allocations, forwarding the document to Keiretsu headquarters without bothering to inform her of his meddling.

"I thought as much. I am very busy just now, Ms. Martinez. If you have something to say that wasn't in your memo, say it and be brief."

"You've read the memo." She wanted him to say it for the record.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And no, your discretionary budget will not be restored to its former level. I have better things to do with that money."

She hadn't expected to get the funds back.

"And?"

"And what, Ms. Martinez? Your objections are noted, and your requests for changes under consideration. Your accusations are irrelevant." "Not to Mitsutomo-sama."

"To whoever I decide will hear them."

"Mitsutomo-sama will say otherwise."

"Are you so sure? Have you forgotten that I am Mitsu-tomo-sama's voice?"

She had not forgotten; she just wasn't sure Mitsutomo-sama knew what his "voice" was saying. "You're making a mistake."

"Is that a threat, Ms. Martinez?"

"It is a warning. Your fascination with Quetzal is dangerous. That monster is dangerous. You are imperiling the Keiretsu."

"So ka.
I think perhaps you arc the one making a mistake."

"Mitsutomo-sama will not approve what you are doing with that monster."

"An incorrect assumption."

Did Nakaguchi have the old man's permission to nurture that abomination? Mitsutomo-sama was ruthless in business, but he was no murderer of innocents.

"I think you are acting on your own. Somehow you found out about my Charybdis Project, and now you're trying to take over the project for yourself. You're poaching."

"Really? The old man sent me here, didn't he?"

Nakaguchi seemed so sure of himself, so confident. Rearden had said he had upper management approval of his private data security locks. Could she be mistaken about Nakaguchi's being on his own? "Mitsutomo-sama knows of the Project?"

"Of course, he does. Did you think yourself so clever as to keep it hidden?"

Actually, she had.

"Why did you think I came here? To investigate some minor budgetary discrepancies? Mitsutomo-sama knows about your pet program, but he has become impatient with your plodding progress. Now that Charybdis is under the control of a responsible and properly aggressive administrator, he is much happier. He is inspired by the possibilities and is talking about a new company, possibly a whole new group, to take advantage of our ground-breaking discoveries."

What discoveries?"

"You
are
out of the loop, aren't you?"

She knew she was. She also knew he was baiting her, trying to anger her. He had succeeded.

"I am the
head
of North American Group. The project is under my purview."

"For only a while longer. There is a small matter of some previous budgetary discrepancies. And possibly certain other matters having to do with civil infractions. The Keiretsu can
not
countenance a senior executive being involved in illegal activities."

"Getting caught in them, you mean."

"Even so. By the way, how is Mr. McAlister? Have you seen a compensation claim from him regarding your reckless endangerment of his life?"

McAlister was loyal to her; she wouldn't let Nakaguchi plant a seed of doubt. "If there is, I'll know where the advice to start it came from."

Nakaguchi smiled unctuously. "Ms. Martinez, I find myself shaken by your belligerent attitude. Such hostility is not in keeping with the harmony, for which all within the Keiretsu strive. Could it be that you are no longer happy in our corporate family?"

"1 am loyal to Mitsutomo-sama."

"I am pleased to hear that, which is to say the old man is pleased, since I am Mitsutomo-sama's ear as well as his voice." He leaned back in his chair. "It would be unfortunate if 1 heard a disgruntled member of the Keiretsu threaten to disrupt the harmony of the family. Such misplaced anger could easily sway a person to foolish acts, acts which would have unfortunate consequences."

Now
that
was a threat. Pamela sat quietly, biting down on her anger. He would get to the price of continued harmony momentarily. She wondered if she would be able to pay it.

"I can be a generous man, Ms. Martinez. Go back to your office. Tend to the ordinary matters of North American (Iroup. Forget Charybdis. Forget Quetzal. Stick with things l hat are more familiar to you and there may be no need for drastic action. The Keiretsu is big enough to harmonize many divergent paths."

What? Was that all?

"Don't look so shocked, Ms. Martinez. I don't want your position."

What do you wantl
She almost asked it aloud.

Nakaguchi smiled indulgently. "Consider the advantages of working together."

She'd rather work with a pit viper. "I will."

"Good. Now, I really do have a lot of work."

She stood shakily and left his office. She was still confused. The revelation that Mitsutomo-sama knew everything had gutted her plan, trashing her threat of exposing Nakaguchi's independent ambitions. For a few moments she had thought she had lost more than her plan; she had thought she had lost it all, but Nakaguchi had confounded her again. She hated the way he was one step ahead of her. Even more she hated the way he displayed his superiority. There had to be some way of taking him down a few pegs.

"Ms. Martinez."

it was Hagen, one of Nakaguchi's creatures. Or was he? The rest of the bastard's toadies were icing her out. What drove the little man to break ranks? She remembered his arguments for destroying the Quetzal thing while it was still in the cave, and his muttered comments when Nakaguchi had fed the thing its first victim. In the matter of the sleeper, at least, Hagen stood apart from Nakaguchi. Far enough apart to be of use?

She stopped and looked down at the little man. "Yes?"

"A moment of your time, please." He seemed anxious, worried. "Not long. A profitable moment."

Intrigued, she responded, "I think I have a moment free."

Hagen led Pamela to his office, refusing to speak until the door closed behind them—and then all he did was direct her to a seat. Hagen activated his perscomp and spent some time calling up routines and studying the monitor. Her angle allowed her an oblique view of the screen, not enough to read it but enough to recognize some of the displays; they were security programs, anti-eavesdropping routines, and control displays. Hagen's concern might be genuine or he might just be putting on a show. Even if he was keeping their meeting private from others, he might be running recording devices for his, own security, a not unreasonable precaution. She waited patiently, curious enough to allow him some latitude; his interaction with the computer went on for some time. At last he seemed satisfied, but even then he spoke hesitantly.