Part 22 (2/2)

Part of it was that Popova was one of those brilliant women who also knew how to look beautiful ninety percent of the time. Add to that the fact that Popova had more formal training in security, a.n.a.lysis, and government than DeRicci, and that had made both of them uncomfortable from the beginning.

DeRicci had to repeatedly remind herself that she she was the Chief of Security for the United Domes of the Moon, not Rudra Popova. Popova was her a.s.sistant, and a d.a.m.ned good one. was the Chief of Security for the United Domes of the Moon, not Rudra Popova. Popova was her a.s.sistant, and a d.a.m.ned good one.

But it still made DeRicci uncomfortable to watch Popova come through the doors to her office, looking well put together in a black dress and black flats that matched her long black hair. She clutched a pile of handhelds-and she looked frazzled.

Popova set the handhelds on DeRicci's desk.

”They're nut b.a.l.l.s,” Popova said. ”All of them.”

DeRicci nodded. Popova was referring to a small band of people who backed up the public information network onto private sites. Although to call these people a band was actually wrong. They didn't a.s.sociate. Sometimes they even fought.

They were individualists. Some of them were very crazy, convinced that the changing information was filling up with lies that would eventually bring down the universe. Others were just paranoid, afraid that the changing information would cause the most valuable information to be deleted.

And a handful were archivists, who believed that information-whether it was accurate or not-needed a secondary backup in case something went wrong.

DeRicci had had Popova and a small team visit all of them, hoping to cajole the information from them.

She wanted the records from that week fifteen years ago. She wanted to compare it all to what was available now.

”One guy wouldn't open the door because I was from the government. He climbed to the second story of his house and threw water on me, telling me to go away.”

”Water?” DeRicci asked.

”I can't explain it,” Popova said. ”Then another guy deleted everything he had when he heard where I was from. He just destroyed it while I was standing there.”

She sank into the nearest chair. ”I hope this information is important.”

It was comments like the last one, spoken in that superior tone, that had made DeRicci dislike Popova at first. Now that they knew each other, DeRicci realized Popova used that tone when she was the most uncomfortable.

”I hope it is, too,” DeRicci said. ”Which one of these comes from the archivists?”

”Those are the only ones I brought you,” Popova said. ”They don't save every site and they don't save every piece of information, so I tried to bring you the broadest range. I hope that's okay.” ”It is,” DeRicci said. ”I might have to send you back out for the other stuff, though.”

Popova shook her head. ”Fortunately, I had enough foresight to collect the information from the true crazies when I saw them. I marked their handhelds and I'll give them to you when you want.” ”Not yet.” DeRicci slid the top handheld toward her. She flicked on the handheld and watched information scroll along the tiny screen.

”In my absence,” Popova said, ”we got some more reports.”

DeRicci looked up. Another crisis? Or was it just this one? Not that DeRicci was entirely convinced lost information from fifteen years ago could be called a crisis. To her, it seemed more like a curiosity.

One that might blossom into something more important.

”What?” DeRicci asked.

”You know those power grid flickers that we noted in the old reports?” Popova asked. DeRicci nodded.

”We've had several in the past two days.”

”What?” DeRicci asked. ”How come no one brought this to me before?”

”Because they're not gridwide. They're isolated. Only certain parts of the infrastructure were effected.”

DeRicci set the handheld aside. It continued to scroll. She should probably have shut the d.a.m.n thing off, but she wasn't ready to just yet.

”We separated out the grid a few years ago,” DeRicci said. ”After the dome explosion, when we realized that it would be better to have parts of the dome with power.”

”Then I should find out where these isolated grid problems were,” Popova said. ”That might tell us something.”

”Do that,” DeRicci said. ”Look to see if any of the affected businesses from fifteen years ago were in these grid areas.”

”All right.” Popova headed for the door. ”And one more thing,” DeRicci said. ”What?” Popova asked. ”Check the power glitches against police incident reports for the past week.”

Popova raised her eyebrows. ”Interesting,” she said, and walked out the door, closing it softly behind her.

DeRicci looked at the handhelds, feeling more disturbed than she had all day. Something was wrong, but her information was incomplete.

And the incomplete information was preventing her from knowing how great the threat was-at least intellectually. On a gut level, she had a feeling she was discovering something very important, something she should have been paying attention to for a long time.

But she didn't yet know what that something was.

33.

Flint had always known that Ki Bowles skirted an edge. He was just surprised at how close she had come to falling off it.

Even though he had been personally satisfied when InterDome fired Bowles for her story on Noelle DeRicci, he had had the pa.s.sing thought-never expressed-that InterDome had overreacted. After all, Bowles was a well-known investigative reporter, with more awards than any other reporter on InterDome's staff.

But those awards had cost the company millions in legal fees and damage awards. It seemed that every case Bowles had investigated had resulted in at least one police report, and sometimes dozens. More than one subject of a Bowles story had filed hara.s.sment and stalking suits. Even more subjects had filed libel and slander suits. And one had filed a suit alleging restraint of trade.

Flint felt his stomach twist. Shouldn't Van Alen have investigated all of this before agreeing with Flint that Bowles would be perfect to hire to do the story against WSX? Or had Van Alen thought that Flint had done this work?

Of course, he didn't know how many other investigative reporters had similar records. Maybe it was just a liability of the profession. Maybe the aggression that Bowles and her colleagues brought to bear against the subjects of their investigations provoked these kinds of reactions.

More often than not, the libel and slander cases got dismissed. The restraint-of-trade case went further than he thought it would, but it, too, got tossed for lack of evidence.

But the lower-level cases-stalking, hara.s.sment-a number of those got settled, not in criminal court, but in civil, with a rather large judgment to the plaintiff.

Flint had handled these cases because they were so technical, letting Talia investigate the stalking cases that Bowles herself had brought.

She had used InterDome's attorneys for those as well, going after people who sent her letters, followed her around the city, and in two scary instances, let themselves into her apartment.

That was when Bowles had upgraded her security systems, but she hadn't-oddly, Flint thought-hired a security team. Maybe InterDome provided one.

The stalking cases went on for years, with depositions and witnesses. The injunctions were violated on a regular basis, and each time, Bowles went back to court seeking higher and higher orders of protection.

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