Part 7 (1/2)
So far, the firm had been able to keep such deals secret.
But that wouldn't last.
One story could exist out there and over time, it would become little more than a rumor. But another story, then another, with other reporters chasing the information or just repeating it, would make the damage substantial.
WSX would survive, but it would be reduced to a standard law firm, not one of the most powerful ent.i.ties in the Earth Alliance.
Justinian Wagner didn't want to head a standard law firm. He liked the power he wielded. Six months ago, when his parents died and his brother Disappeared, he had guaranteed that he would be the most powerful man in Armstrong.
He'd never thought he could lose his power base by losing the influence his law firm had. He'd never thought of that. Until last night. When he first watched Ki Bowles.
9.
Before he could find and watch the report Ki Bowles made before her death, Nyquist had to report to the First Rank Detective Unit. His boss, Andrea Gumiela, had sent him several urgent messages through his links, which he got the moment he stepped outside the Hunting Club's protective grounds.
She wanted to know how the investigation was proceeding. Then, when Nyquist hadn't answered any of her urgent messages, she demanded to see him the moment he left the grounds.
Normally, he would have sent a message across his own links, explaining the problem with the Hunting Club and asking her to wait. But this wasn't a normal case.
He needed Gumiela, not just because he was freshly back to work, but because she liked handling the media. And the media would be all over this case.
The unit was on the fifth floor of the First Detective Division, not far from the City Complex. The law enforcement buildings surrounded the City Complex like a protective ring, with all of the divisions having their own buildings.
Gumiela's office was in the center of the First Rank Detective Unit. Many of the newer detectives had offices-or, more properly, cubicles on this floor, and she had learned that to control them, she had to be in the center of them.
So she moved her office from a lush suite on the top floor to several large central offices in the middle of the First Rank Unit. She no longer had a spectacular view, but she controlled her troops better.
Nyquist stepped inside the unit, wincing at the smell of burnt coffee. During his rehabilitation, DeRicci had given him a taste for real Earth-grown coffee. Her job paid ten times his, and because of that-and because she had been a detective herself once-she indulged herself in all kinds of luxuries.
Nyquist couldn't care about most of them, but he could do with some real coffee now.
He stopped at the common table, put some money in a nearby jar, and helped himself to the c.r.a.p that pa.s.sed for real in the detective unit. Then he grabbed a large handful of crackers, knowing they would probably be all he'd get to eat for hours.
He was chewing on them as he rounded the corner into Gumiela's office.
Because the office had subsumed three smaller offices, it had an odd octagonal shape. Initially, there had been no windows, but Gumiela had had a few installed. They overlooked the main detective unit, where the newbies sat at their barely private desks, trying to overcome the caseloads that would destroy a more experienced detective.
Gumiela watched her entire squad closely. DeRicci had hated her when she worked for her-and still held a grudge. Nyquist didn't like the way Gumiela micromanaged, but he realized somewhere along the way that Gumiela was the best chief of detectives the city had ever had.
The case closure rate since she had been promoted had gone up, the crime rate down, and the number of career criminals removed from Armstrong's street staggering.
Whether or not Nyquist agreed with Gumiela's methods, they certainly got results.
But that didn't mean he had to like the woman. She was thin and tall and constantly nervous. She moved more than she sat, and she stared at people when she should have put them at ease. One on one, she had few social skills, but she could handle the media very well.
She had probably known Ki Bowles better than anyone else.
When he entered the office, he found Gumiela standing near one of the windows. She was wearing one of her trademark short skirts, which revealed her only good characteristic-a fantastic pair of legs.
”It's about time,” Gumiela said as she turned toward him. Her eyes had deep circles under them. She had pulled back her shoulder-length hair into a bun, which only accented the exhaustion on her thin face. ”Close the door.”
As he did, he forced himself to take a deep breath. He promised himself he wouldn't get defensive, but her first words had provoked a defensive reaction in him. He just wouldn't act on it. Not yet. ”We need to stay ahead of this,” Gumiela said. ”Someone is going to leak this story, and then we're going to have more media than we know what to do with.”
He turned around slowly, making each movement deliberate. ”We can't afford media involvement yet. We're having trouble with the case.”
”We can't avoid media involvement,” she said. ”One of their own has died.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. ”They don't know that yet.”
”But it'll only take a few hours for someone to leak it.” Gumiela walked back to her desk and sat on the corner of it, crossing her long legs, and tugging her skirt over her thighs as she did so. ”The Hunting Club swears no leak will come from them,” Nyquist said, ”and I believe them. They exist because of their discretion.”
”That won't stop someone from our offices from releasing it,” Gumiela said.
He looked at her sharply. Had she already done so? And how did he ask that question without offending her?
”And no, I haven't done it yet,” she said as if she heard his thoughts. ”I needed to talk to you first. But I also need to stay ahead of this story. If the media get to it first, then we're all in trouble. We'll be chasing after their leads instead of them chasing after ours.”
”We don't have any leads,” he said.
”Excuse me?” She slid off the desk and stood up as if she was going to threaten him.
”It takes an act of G.o.d to get the Hunting Club to shut down its security system, and apparently two murders on its highly secure property is not enough to be considered an act of G.o.d. The system shuts down links, as you well know, including emergency links, which violates half a dozen city ordinances as well as probably some United Dome of the Moon laws, and to make matters worse-”
”It shuts off emergency links?” she asked. He nodded. ”That's why I couldn't raise you?”
”And why I think our victims couldn't get the help they needed even though it was only a few meters away.”
Gumiela's lips moved in a calculated smile. ”So there will be some civil lawsuits against the Hunting Club.”
”Probably,” Nyquist said, ”but that's for the families to decide. The lack of emergency links-” ”Might be one of the reasons the killer or killers chose those grounds as his killing field. What did the witnesses say? Anything about someone leaving that forest?”
”I never saw a witness,” Nyquist said. ”This is the first I've heard of one. Which is indicative of the case, and not the worst thing I've encountered today. The Hunting Club-”
”The information should be on the police links,” Gumiela said. ”I thought you had the street cops working for you. One of them tried to contact me from inside the Hunting Club-”
”And I wish he'd reached you,” Nyquist said. ”The Hunting Club's security system rakes its grounds every thirty seconds. We lost all our trace.”
”Lost it?” Gumiela crossed her arms.
He nodded. ”The Hunting Club wouldn't shut down the system. By the time I got there, at least half the evidence was lost. By the time the techs got there, most of it was gone. I finally gave up trying to shut anything down. It was a waste of time, since the evidence was already destroyed.”
”So you believe the Hunting Club had something to do with Bowles's death?” He hadn't thought of that. He hadn't thought of many possibles, not yet. He'd been too frustrated by everything that faced him.
”I don't know,” he said. ”I lost a lot of valuable information and a lot of valuable time. I may never know who killed Bowles or why because of that d.a.m.n security system.”
Gumiela looked toward the windows. He recognized the movement. She did that when she was pretending to come up with a new thought. When she actually came up with one, her eyes lit up and she leaned forward. When she pretended, she looked away.