Part 11 (1/2)

x It was surreal, the way the day fell into its accustomed order, an inertia in the affairs of Reseune that refused to be shaken, no matter what had happened, no matter that his body was sore and the d.a.m.nedest innocent things brought on tape-flashes that hour by hour a.s.sumed a more and more mundane and placid level of existence-of course course that was what it felt like, of course people from the dawn of time had done s.e.x with mixed partners, paid s.e.x for safety, it was the world, that was all, and he was no kid to be devastated by it-it was more the hangover that had him fogged, and now he was on the other side of an experience he had rather not have had, he was still alive, Grant was downriver safe, Jordan was all right; and he had d.a.m.ned well better figure Ari Emory had more than that in mind- that was what it felt like, of course people from the dawn of time had done s.e.x with mixed partners, paid s.e.x for safety, it was the world, that was all, and he was no kid to be devastated by it-it was more the hangover that had him fogged, and now he was on the other side of an experience he had rather not have had, he was still alive, Grant was downriver safe, Jordan was all right; and he had d.a.m.ned well better figure Ari Emory had more than that in mind- Shake the kid up, play games with his mind, go on till he cracked. You wanted Grant free, boy, you can subst.i.tute, can't you? - You wanted Grant free, boy, you can subst.i.tute, can't you? -leave the apartment, report to the office, smile at familiar people and hear the business go on about him that had gone on yesterday, that went on every day in Wing One-Jane Stra.s.sen cursing her aides and creating a furor because of some glitch-up in equipment repair; Yanni Schwartz trying to mollify her, a dull murmur of argument down the hall. Justin kept to his keyboard and immersed himself in a routine, in a problem in tape-structure Ari had set him a week ago, complex enough to keep the mind busy hunting linkages.

He was careful. There were things the AI checker might not catch. There were higher-level designers between his efforts and an azi azi test-subject, and there were trap-programs designed to catch accidental linkages in a particular psychset but it was no generic teaching-tape: it was deep-tape, specifically one that a psychsurgeon might use to fit certain of the KU-89 subsets for limited managerial functions. test-subject, and there were trap-programs designed to catch accidental linkages in a particular psychset but it was no generic teaching-tape: it was deep-tape, specifically one that a psychsurgeon might use to fit certain of the KU-89 subsets for limited managerial functions.

A mistake that got by the master-designers could be expensive-could cause grief for the KU-89s and the azi they might manage; could cause terminations, if it went truly awry-it was every designer's nightmare, installing a glitch that would run quietly amok in a living intellect for weeks and years, till it synthesized a crazier and crazier logic-set and surfaced on some completely illogical trigger.

There was a book making the rounds, a science fiction thriller called Error Message, Error Message, that had Giraud Nye upset: a not too well disguised Reseune marketed an entertainment tape with a worm in it, and civilization came apart. There was a copy in library, on CIT-only check-out, with a long waiting list; and he and Grant had both read it-of course. Like most every House azi except Nye's, it was a good bet. that had Giraud Nye upset: a not too well disguised Reseune marketed an entertainment tape with a worm in it, and civilization came apart. There was a copy in library, on CIT-only check-out, with a long waiting list; and he and Grant had both read it-of course. Like most every House azi except Nye's, it was a good bet.

And he and Grant had tried designing a worm, just to see where it would go. -”Hey,” Grant had said, sitting on the floor at his feet, starting to draw logic-flows, ”we've got an Alpha-set we can use, h.e.l.l with the Rho-sets.”

It had scared him. It had gone unfunny right there. ”Don't even think about it,” he had said, because if there was such a thing as a worm and they designed one that would work, thinking thinking about it could be dangerous; and it was Grant's own set Grant meant. Grant had his own manual. about it could be dangerous; and it was Grant's own set Grant meant. Grant had his own manual.

Grant had laughed, with that wicked, under the brows grin he had when he had tagged his CIT good.

”I don't think we ought to do this,” Justin had said, and grabbed the notebook. ”I don't think we ought to mess around with it.”

”Hey, there isn't any such thing.”

”I don't want to find out.” It was hard to be the Authority for the moment, to pull CIT-rank on Grant and treat him like that. It hurt. It made him feel like h.e.l.l. Suddenly and glumly sober, Grant had crumpled up his design-start, and the disappointment in Grant's eyes had gone right to his gut.

Till Grant had come into his room that night and waked him out of a sound sleep, saying he had thought of a worm, and it worked-whereupon Grant had laughed like a lunatic, pounced on him in the dark and scared h.e.l.l out of him.

”Lights!” he had yelled at the Minder, and Grant had fallen on the floor laughing.

Which was the way Grant was, too d.a.m.ned resilient to let anything come between them. And d.a.m.ned well knowing what he deserved for his pretensions to G.o.dhood.

He sat motionless at the keyboard, staring at nothing, with a dull ache inside that was purely selfish. Grant was all right. Absolutely all right.

The intercom blipped. He summoned up the fort.i.tude to deal with it and punched the console b.u.t.ton. ”Yes,” he said, expecting Ari or Ari's office.

”Justin.” It was his father's voice. ”I want to talk to you. My office. Now.”

He did not dare ask a question. ”I'm coming,” he said, shut down and went, immediately.

He was back an hour later, in the same chair, staring at a lifeless screen for a long while before he finally summoned the self-control to key the project-restore.

The comp brought the program up and found his place. He was a thousand miles away, halfway numb, the way he had made himself when Jordan told him he had gotten a call through to Merild and Merild had given a puzzled negative to a coded query.

Merild had gotten no message. Merild had gotten nothing at all that he would have recognized as the subject of Jordan's inquiry. Total zero.

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe there was some reason Krugers had held Grant there and not called Merild yet. Maybe they were afraid of Reseune. Or the police.

Maybe Grant had never gotten there.

He had been in shock as Jordan had sat down on the arm of the office chair and put his arm about him and told him not to give up yet. But there was nothing they could do. Neither of them and no one they knew could start a search, and Jordan could not involve Merild by giving him the details over the House phone. He had called Krugers and flatly asked if a s.h.i.+pment got through. Krugers avowed it had gone out on schedule. Someone was lying.

”I thought we could trust Merild,” was all he had been able to say.

”I don't know what's going on,” Jordan had said. ”I didn't want to tell you. But if Ari knows something about this she's going to spring it on you. I figured I'd better let you know.”

He had not broken down at all-until he had gotten up, had said he had to get back to his office, and Jordan hugged him and held him. Then he had fallen apart. But it was only what a boy would do, who had just been told his brother might be dead.

Or in Ari's hands.

He had gotten his eyes dry, his face composed. He had walked back through the security checkpoint and into Ari's wing, back past the continuing upset in Jane Stra.s.sen's staff, people trying to get a s.h.i.+pment out on the plane that was going after supplies, because Jane was so d.a.m.ned tight she refused to move with anything but a full load.

He sat now staring at the problem in front of him, sick at his stomach and hating Ari, hating hating her, more than he had ever conceived of hating anyone, even while he did not know where Grant was, or whether he himself had killed him, sending him out in that boat. her, more than he had ever conceived of hating anyone, even while he did not know where Grant was, or whether he himself had killed him, sending him out in that boat.

And he could not tell Jordan the full extent of what was going on. He could not tell Jordan a d.a.m.ned thing, without triggering all the traps set for him.

He killed the power again, walked out and down the hall to Ari's office, ignoring the to-do in the hall. He walked in and faced Florian, who had the reception desk. ”I've got to talk to her,” he said. ”Now.”

Florian lifted a brow, looked doubtful, and then called through.

”How are we?” Ari asked him; and he was shaking so badly, standing in front of Ari's desk, that he could hardly talk.

”Where's Grant?”

Ari blinked. One fast, perhaps-honest reaction. ”Where's Grant? -Sit down. Let's go through this in order.”

He sat down in the leather chair at the corner of her desk and clenched his hands on its arms. ”Grant's gone missing. Where is he?”

Ari took in a long slow breath. Either she had prepared her act or she was not troubling to mask at all. ”He got as far as Krugers. A plane came in this morning and he might have left on it. Two barges left this morning and he could have been on those.”

”Where is he, dammit? Where have you got him?”

”Boy, I do appreciate your distress, but get a grip on it. You won't get a thing out of me by shouting, and I'd really be surprised if the hysteria is an act. So let's talk about this quietly, shall we?”

”Please.”

”Oh, dear boy, that's just awfully stupid. You know I'm not your friend.”

”Where is he?”

”Calm down. I don't have him. Of course I've had him tracked. Where ought ought he to be?” he to be?”

He said nothing. He sat there trying to get his composure back, seeing the pit in front of him.

”I can't help you at all if you won't give me anything to work on.”

”You can d.a.m.n well help me if you want to. You know d.a.m.n well where he is!”

”Dear, you really can go to h.e.l.l. Or you can answer my questions and I promise you I'll do everything I can to extricate him from whatever he's gotten into. I won't have Krugers arrested. I won't have your friend in Novgorod picked up. I don't suppose Jordan's phone call a while ago had anything to do with your leaving your office and coming in here. You two really aren't doing well this week.”

He sat and stared at her a long, long moment. ”What do you want?”

”The truth, as it happens. Let me tell you where I think he was supposed to go and you just confirm it. A nod of the head will do. From here to Krugers. From Krugers to a man named Merild, a friend of Corain's.”

He clenched his hands the tighter on the chair. And nodded.