Part 14 (1/2)
”Miles?” Van Alen asked. ”You picked what?”
He shook his head. He had forgotten he had spoken out loud. He didn't want Van Alen to know that he had picked Ki Bowles for more than her reporting skill.
He had picked her so that his conscience wouldn't get p.r.i.c.ked if he had to ruin her life. Part of him saw this story-this long work on WSX-as revenge for the stories Bowles had done on him and on DeRicci. And for the first time, he felt guilty about that.
But he had explained the risks to Bowles. She knew her life was at risk. She even knew that she might have to Disappear if things got really bad, although she had laughed at that idea.
He moved an arm onto the back of the chair and looked at Van Alen. ”We have some things to figure out,” he said. ”She let me know that she had completed several stories, and that she wanted me to see them. How many are here?”
Van Alen frowned as she worked to remember. ”She dropped off two last week, including the one that Upstart had run. Then, this morning, she dropped off three more.”
Then Van Alen sighed and looked down. ”She was in a good mood.” He wasn't sure whether the good mood made things better or worse. ”I'd better look at those stories, then,” he said. ”We have to decide if we want to run them ourselves.”
Van Alen glanced at the opaque walls. He knew she was looking at Talia. ”Maybe we should stop now,” Van Alen said. He didn't turn around. He didn't want to see Talia out there, waiting.
He had put his daughter at risk, too, and he had never meant to. He hadn't even known she existed when he hatched this plot against WSX, to make them pay for everything they had done over the years.
The courts couldn't go after them. The police could do nothing. This had been the only way to bring the firm down. It probably wouldn't have put Justinian Wagner in jail, but it would have ruined his life. Instead it took Ki Bowles's life and might damage Flint's. Or Talia's.
He thought aloud: ”There's a tie to you just because Bowles was in and out of this office. We revealed another tie today to our friend from Whitford Security, so a few people, at least, know that I'm involved. If Justinian hears about my involvement, then he might figure out how Bowles got the information. Although he won't be able to prove it. Not that proof seems to matter to him.”
”I don't see why he'd kill for revealing the firm's confidential files,” Van Alen said. ”He can sue both of us. He probably wouldn't win-we can successfully argue that those files were part of your inheritance from Paloma, and we can probably stretch that to mean that because she had them, and had given them to you, she she had broken the confidentiality seal, not us. Not that it would matter. The resulting scandal would be as bad for my office as it would be for his.” had broken the confidentiality seal, not us. Not that it would matter. The resulting scandal would be as bad for my office as it would be for his.”
Flint had purchased his business from Paloma. He had regarded her as his mentor until her murder. Then he had learned that she was Justinian Wagner's mother and the Stuart of Wagner, Stuart, and Xendor. He still felt betrayed.
”But that scandal wouldn't take care of me,” Flint said. ”I'd be fine. People already see me as operating on the edge of the law, anyway.” Van Alen tapped her forefinger against her lips. ”Maybe we had more than we thought.”
”We have a mountain of information. Ki Bowles wouldn't have reported it all in five years, let alone the-what was it? Ten?-stories she planned to do.”
”No, no,” Van Alen said. ”I mean maybe there's something in those files that's worth killing for.” Flint shook his head. ”First, you'd have to find out where the files are stored. You shoot the messenger, you'll never recover the information. No one's been here, right?”
”So far as I know,” Van Alen said. Flint remembered how Talia had accessed the files at Oberholtz, Martinez, and Mlsnavek. ”You never linked our files to your computer network, did you?”
”No,” Van Alen said, but Flint was already moving to her unnetworked systems. He had kept a backup of the files on one computer system that he made her swear she wouldn't use.
He turned on the computer (thinking it was a good sign that the thing was off), then searched through everything that had been accessed in the last six months.
Even though the search was rapid, he felt rea.s.sured. No one had touched this computer except him. ”Are you finding anything?” Van Alen asked. ”No,” he said. ”And everything is just as I remembered it.”
He knew these files better than anyone. Van Alen didn't, and Bowles certainly didn't. There was information in the WSX files that could bring down some of the most powerful politicians on the Moon. Even more that could implicate various corporations in all kinds of hideous scandals.
And worst of all, to his mind, was the way that WSX helped cover up truly heinous crimes, often to its own profit. That was the kind of information he had been feeding to Bowles bit by bit. But they hadn't even gotten to the first bit, not really. Just some pa.s.sing mentions. Could those mentions have been enough to get Bowles killed? Enough to put a drastic plan into action, rather than have Wagner go through the usual channels as was his bent?
And if so, did that put Flint at risk? Or, more importantly, Talia? He couldn't live with himself if he lost his daughter yet again. Anyone who looked at his past had to know that. It would be obvious.
Paloma had been right about one thing: Retrieval Artists shouldn't have connections. When she trained him in this new profession, she had told him that he was a perfect candidate. His parents were dead, he was divorced, and his child was dead, too.
No one could use his family as a blackmail tool. Paloma had warned him about friends.h.i.+ps as well, but he'd had more trouble with that.
But Paloma hadn't separated herself, either. That was another lie, like her name. He had had no idea when he had bought her business that she had once been Lucianna Stuart, the woman who had started WSX, and he had no idea that she had a still living husband, whom she apparently still loved, and sons who ran the business.
He hadn't found out any of that until she died. ”It's odd,” Van Alen said. ”I'm usually not in a position where I say this, but I don't know what we should do.”
”I don't, either.” Flint shut off the computer and stood. ”I don't think we have enough information.” ”What do you mean?” ”Do you know much about Bowles's life?”
Van Alen shrugged. ”She was single. She lived alone. She worked hard, and she was fired for doing her job-even if you don't like the story that she eventually came out with.”
”Yeah,” Flint said, ”and what else?” Van Alen opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it. ”You'd think I'd know more,” she said.
”Yeah, you would,” Flint said. ”Me, too. Considering how long I've known her and that investigation is part of my job description.”
”You knew enough. You knew how she reported stories. You knew that she was an award-winning journalist, and that she was out of work. You also knew-how did you put it to me?-that she was utterly ruthless. That's all we needed.”
”Yeah.” Flint sat down in his chair. ”But now that she's dead, I realize that's not enough.” ”Meaning?”
”I have no idea if the WSX story is what got her killed. For all I know she had a stalker boyfriend or had trouble with the Gossip columnists or had made a dangerous enemy from a previous story.” ”Who just happened to kill her now?” Van Alen snorted in disgust. ”Come on, Miles. I thought you didn't believe in coincidence.”
”I don't,” he said. ”But there are several factors at play here, and one is that Ki Bowles wasn't visible to the public for nearly six months. The thing that caused her death might be as simple as the fact that she became visible again.”
”Oh,” Van Alen said, and it was her turn to frown. She walked around her desk, pulled out the chair, and sat.
”I need to conduct an investigation of my own,” Flint said. ”I need to find out everything I can about this death and about Ki Bowles herself.”
”The police can do it,” Van Alen said.
”With limited information,” Flint said. ”Unless you plan to tell them about our scheme for WSX?” Van Alen gave him a measuring look. ”Point taken. Still, you won't have their resources.”
He nodded. And the police no longer looked on him as one of their own. He'd burned those bridges. He still had some contacts in the department and a few old friends. He'd have to lean on them, as well as some of the back doors he'd built into the police database when he designed some of their computer security systems.
He hated using that a lot, though, because someday someone would close those back doors, and he wouldn't have access any longer.
”What about us in the meantime?” Van Alen asked. ”I'm sorry,” he said, not quite following her.
”You, me.” She paused just a moment, obviously for effect. ”Talia. If we are in danger, any extra time you take is just going to keep us vulnerable.”
”I guess we have to a.s.sume we're in danger,” he said, and as he did, his heart started to pound. How would he investigate when he had Talia to protect?
”Maybe we should just leave Armstrong until this thing blows over,” Van Alen said. Flint raised his eyebrows. ”You can abandon all your cases just like that?” She gave him a sheepish smile. ”No.” He could go if he had to, but he wasn't sure he had to. And there was one other problem.
”You know, if this is WSX, they have a long arm. And they're not afraid to go sideways. If WSX wants us dead, they'll kill us whether we're here or at the edges of the known universe.”
”So better to stay here.” Van Alen sighed. ”And maybe hire a security firm?” ”Look what good that did Ki Bowles,” Flint said. ”Then what do you suggest?” Van Alen asked. ”I don't have any suggestions.” Flint had to stand again. The nervousness was back.
This time, he did look at the opaque windows. The coffee, blue, and blondish blur that was Talia had moved to a different couch.
He couldn't trust her safety to someone else. He had done that with Emmeline, and she had ended up dead. And he couldn't take Talia with him everywhere he went.