The Peyti Crisis: A Retrieval Artist Novel: Book Five of the Anniversary Day Saga (Retrieval Artist series 12) (19 page)

“But I think the best thing we can do is release images of you with your most recent client. Maybe even some of your arguments in court, not to mention the fact that you promised Judge Bruchac that she could work in S
3
if she ruled in your client’s favor. You bribed a judge to help a clone of PierLuigi Frémont.”

“Trey didn’t bomb the Moon. He was already incarcerated,” Zhu said, and wished he hadn’t. He sounded defensive. Salehi knew that he had gotten to Zhu.

“He’s a
clone
,” Salehi said. “He looked just like the bombers. It won’t matter to those nice people on the Moon that you were trying to find out what happened on Anniversary Day. They’ll think you conspired with the assassins.”

Zhu bit back his protests. He’d heard opposing counsel answer S
3
attorneys who threatened this kind of thing.
That’s not true! No one would believe that!
and all those other protests meant nothing in the face of an S
3
press onslaught. He’d seen reputations destroyed in a weekend. He’d seen cases won without ever going to court, all with the manipulation of images—the right images for the time. It was an S
3
specialty.

They would release images of him with Trey, who was now conveniently dead. Killed by Earth Alliance ships on his way to freedom after decades of false imprisonment. Freedom that Zhu had secured for him, using some tricks of the law, not bribery of a judge. Even though she was willing to listen to him because she thought she’d get a job at S
3
when she retired.

“So what?” Zhu said, trying to sound disinterested. “If I represent the Peyti killers, it’s the same thing. I’m consorting with mass murderers. I have no reputation and no life.”

“You’ll be part of a case that will probably go through all of the Multicultural Tribunals. You might end up being a bad guy to most people on the Moon, but to clones everywhere, you’ll be a hero.”

“Nice try,” Zhu said. “I won’t be a hero. The attorneys never are. And they certainly aren’t heroes with these kinds of clients, no matter how the law changes or who it benefits.”

Salehi shrugged. “So you can be a bad guy and spend the rest of your life defending breach of contract lawsuits with S
3
, completely broke and hated throughout the Earth Alliance, or you can be a bad guy and spend the rest of your life arguing clone law and living off your miraculous victory, one that will change the Alliance forever.”

“Unless the laws don’t change,” Zhu said. “You could lose.”

“I could,” Salehi said. “
We
could. It won’t matter. We’re charging our full fees to the Peyla government who will support the case for years. You’ll be hated and rich or hated and broke. Your choice, Torkild.”

Zhu rubbed a hand over his very sore forehead. “Give me twenty-four hours.”

“Can’t,” Salehi said. “I need you at the Armstrong Police Department yesterday. Hell, I needed you there a week ago. And I need you at the United Domes of the Moon Security office, and maybe even the Earth Alliance offices in Armstrong, right now.”

“I can’t be three places at once, even if I wanted to,” Zhu said.

“I do know that,” Salehi said. “Which is why you’re hiring staff too.”

“Four places at once,” Zhu muttered.

“So what’s your decision?” Salehi asked.

“I’m not working for you,” Zhu said.

Salehi sighed. “You’ll regret that,” he said, and vanished from the glass tabletop.

TWENTY-TWO

COME ON, DAD, you can’t be here for him
, Talia sent Flint along his links. She was shaking like a junkie coming down off a high. She hadn’t wanted to leave the apartment, but Flint had insisted.

He needed her to come with him, and when he had told her that this meeting had something to do with the attacks, she had reluctantly agreed to accompany him.

The darkened office suites had unnerved her. Honestly, they hadn’t made him feel good either, particularly the grilling he had received from the automated reception area. The androgynous voice, which was audible to anyone in the wide space, insisted that the attorneys were out of the building, so no one could receive him.

He insisted that he had an appointment—which he did—and that it had been arranged before he arrived—which it had been—and that the system should simply let him, and his daughter, who was also a client, up to Gonzalez’s floor.

The system checked, saw that he had been in the building in the last week, and let him go upstairs, where he would encounter a staff member. But, the system warned him, if no one joined him within the hour, he would have to depart.

He had felt nervous: What if Deshin wasn’t here?

Then he realized that if Deshin hadn’t arrived, they would simply leave.

Flint’s nervousness, however, had affected Talia. Or maybe she was just uncomfortable being outside the apartment.

Or perhaps he was being insensitive, taking her to a law office after a bunch of lawyers had tried to destroy the infrastructure on the Moon.

Deshin hadn’t made things any better. Talia had recognized him.

Flint’s gaze met hers. They were of a height now, as strange as that seemed to him. But for the first time since he’d known her, she seemed like a frightened child.

I am here for him. He has information that the investigation needs.

Her lips thinned, but to her credit, she didn’t look at Deshin. Instead, she let Flint lead her out of the elevator and into the corridor.

Deshin said something about being down the hall. Flint knew he was supposed to follow. He didn’t like this situation any more than Talia did. It felt odd.

He didn’t really want to be alone with Deshin in a suite of offices that neither of them owned.

Which investigation?
Talia asked.

Anniversary Day,
Flint sent back, although he wasn’t certain. Deshin hadn’t specified.

What can he know that you can’t?
she asked.

A great deal.
His contacts are a lot shadier than mine
, Flint sent.

She sighed, then glanced down the hall where Deshin had disappeared.
I don’t trust him.

Good
, Flint sent.
Because I don’t either.

I’m coming with you,
she sent.

I don’t think he’ll talk to me if you do. Wait here. I’ll make certain my links stay active. You can come and get me if you need to
.

She bit her upper lip, as if she were trying not to speak up, and then she nodded. Flint didn’t wait. He turned and walked down the hall.

All of the doors were closed. The lawyers were gone—to a funeral, the automated reception had told him. He didn’t need to ask what the funeral was connected to. For the past few days and the next several, funerals were the biggest business in Armstrong, maybe on the Moon itself.

Even though the Peyti clones hadn’t been successful inside any domes, there had been a lot of collateral damage, more than Flint liked to think about, and there had been some deaths outside the domes.

He had ceased paying attention when he realized that Talia was falling apart.

His breath caught when he saw the only room with lights on. It was a conference room. Deshin sat at the head of a long black table, his coat draped over the chair behind him. The exterior windows on the far side had been opaqued, but he left this one clear.

Flint hoped that Talia wouldn’t have to come here to find him. This view from the hallway into the conference room might make her regress. Not that she had made a lot of progress. But at least she was out of the apartment, and she wasn’t crying.

She had seen Kaleb Lamber die in a conference room filled with lawyers, through a clear barrier. She had tried to pound her way in. Kaleb Lamber had been trying to pound his way out.

She had seen the whole thing, and she had found that more upsetting than anything else she’d witnessed in her short, eventful life.

Flint slipped through the door, then pulled it closed. As he did, he had his personal systems check for active recording devices.

“I’m leaving my links on for my daughter,” he said. “I promised her.”

“You’ll be on your honor then.” Deshin did not stand up.

Flint sat down at the other end of the table. “You’ll be on yours as well.”

Deshin smiled. “We’re like old enemies facing a new threat together. We have no choice but to reluctantly trust each other.”

Deshin made the moment sound like a grand adventure. Flint didn’t see it that way.

“I think reluctantly is the key word,” Flint said. “And with that in mind, I’m not going to ask if Celestine knows about this meeting.”

“Good,” Deshin said with enough emphasis to give Flint the truth anyway. Gonzalez didn’t know about the meeting.

Flint tried to suppress his irritation. Gonzalez had been doing them favors the first two times she got them together. And then Deshin repaid her like this? This sort of bending of the rules was what made him dangerous.

Then Flint felt a tinge of amusement. DeRicci would probably have said the same thing about him.

“What was so important?” he asked Deshin.

Deshin’s expression grew serious. Not that he had been smiling before, but he had seemed welcoming, friendly. All of that was gone now.

“This morning,” he said, “I met with some people who claim they can lead me to the creator of the clones. These are not designer criminal clones. They’re something rarer, and much more expensive.”

Flint froze. Here it was: the thing that would cause him to regret working with Deshin. Deshin was going to hit him up for money, even though Deshin was reputed to be worth five times more than Flint.

“How expensive?” Flint asked.

“Minimum, one million per clone,” Deshin said. “She told me that the buyer would have to pay for the nonviable as well as the viable.”

Flint was glad he hadn’t let Talia come here with him. She would have hated the way that Deshin was talking about clones. Hell, Flint hated it, but he couldn’t show it.

His daughter was more than a commodity that was “viable” or “non-viable.”

And then his own thoughts made him freeze. She was, and so, in some ways were those Frémont clones. They had to feel something, think something. They weren’t just “villains.”

Deshin had stopped talking, clearly noting that Flint’s thoughts had moved away from the discussion.

“Anything you want to share?” Deshin said wryly.

“No,” Flint said. “Please continue.”

Deshin raised an eyebrow, as if Flint’s comment amused him. Then the amused expression left Deshin’s face.

“Miles,” he said quietly, “if my math is correct, we’re talking a quarter of a billion dollars that we could trace just for the Anniversary Day attacks, not counting what happened last week.”

It took Flint a moment to understand what Deshin meant. Deshin wasn’t talking about borrowing money from Flint to buy a clone. Deshin was talking about the attacks themselves.

Flint frowned, trying to both change his expectation of where the conversation was going and to absorb what Deshin was telling him.

Millions? Per viable clone?

Flint asked, “Does that include the raising and training?”

Deshin opened his hands slightly as if he was confused. “She implied that it did, but I don’t know for certain. She claims that she can put me in touch with the people who are creating those clones, but I’ll be honest. It’ll be dicey, and I’m not sure I want to go that far.”

Flint wouldn’t either. But that was one reason he had contacted Deshin. He figured Deshin was used to dealing with criminals. Deshin had mocked him for that assumption, but they both knew that it had its basis in fact.

The idea that Deshin felt going into business with the real creator of the clones was too dangerous put Flint on edge.

“So,” Flint said, “is this as far as our investigation goes?”

“No,” Deshin said. “I didn’t mean to imply that. But already we’re going in a direction I hadn’t expected. I don’t have that kind of money, and if I did, I certainly wouldn’t invest it in such a long-term scheme, one that would take a minimum of 25 years and would have a high degree of failure.”

Flint rubbed a hand over his face. Again, Deshin mentioned money, but Flint was too tired—too distracted—to understand if that was a request for a contribution.

“I’m sorry,” Flint said, deciding honesty was the only solution. He couldn’t do the subtlety dance right now. “I don’t quite understand why you contacted me. If you’re not done, then what do you need me for?”

Deshin smiled slowly. His eyes narrowed. Flint suddenly felt like the man could see through him.

“I need you for money,” Deshin said.

Flint suppressed a sigh. He hadn’t wanted to be right.

“We need to track it,” Deshin said.