Part 31 (2/2)

”We need more people working on this,” DeRicci said.

”I don't know that, either,” Popova said. ”I mean, the data is years old. So why the hurry now?” ”The glitches have increased in the past week,” DeRicci said.

”Meaning what?”

DeRicci shrugged, and then she closed her eyes as a realization hit her. She should have been examining the glitch information around the time of the dome explosion. They'd never caught the bomber. Maybe these people whose information vanished were saboteurs or part of terror cells. Maybe the people who came in had some kind of horrible plan to harm-or even destroy-Armstrong. ”Sir?” Popova asked. DeRicci opened her eyes. Her mouth was dry. She was making things up. She didn't have enough information yet.

But the information she did have was making her very, very nervous.

”See if these glitches can be back-traced,” she said. ”And if they can, make the traces a priority. I want to know who-if anyone-is causing this.”

”Yes, sir,” Popova said. ”Should I bring in someone else to search the information?” DeRicci thought for a moment. If this was some kind of well-coordinated outside attack, then each glitch had meaning. And people with no history of trouble were causing the problems.

People with no history of trouble. Like the people who got vetted before becoming government employees.

”Not yet,” DeRicci said. ”If we need more eyes on this, we'll get them.”

”Yes, sir,” Popova said.

Popova was almost to the door when DeRicci said, ”Rudra?”

”Yes, sir?”

”What do you think is going on?”

Popova bit her lower lip. ”I don't like to speculate, sir,” she said after a moment.

”Do it anyway,” DeRicci said.

”It could be anything,” Popova said. ”From some kind of plan or plans against Armstrong to the placing of illegals throughout the city. I mean, what better way to become a part of a community if all you have to do is wipe out any record of your past, and create some new ident.i.ty?”

What better way indeed? DeRicci made herself breathe. Or, she suddenly realized, it could be a combination of both. People who shouldn't be in Armstrong establis.h.i.+ng new ident.i.ties-and then planning to do some harm.

”Thanks, Rudra,” DeRicci said, effectively dismissing her.

DeRicci looked at the data in front of her. She hadn't yet compared the recent glitches to this week's crime reports.

But she had a hunch she'd find something-something she wouldn't like at all.

49.

Nyquist had never bullied his way into a law office before. He'd gone into doctor's offices and high-end brokerage firms. He'd arrested people in schools and restaurants and museums.

But he'd never gone into a law office on official business. At least not on business that involved a possible crime still under way.

He had a team of ten officers behind him. He used his ”official business” line with the expensive android that guarded the door. He overrode the circuitry with his police-issued chips when the android wouldn't let him pa.s.s.

He had all of the officers draw their weapons as he hurried through Wagner, Stuart, and Xendor's large lobby, demanding to know where Justinian Wagner was.

a.s.sistant after a.s.sistant tried to stop him, and he wouldn't be stopped. He remembered how to get to Wagner's office. He used his chip again to override the privacy controls in the needlessly fancy elevator, and commanded it to hurry.

It moved faster than he wanted it to, and if he had anyone to confess to, he would have told that person that the speed of the elevator made him slightly queasy.

But it didn't get rid of the feeling of elation that had accompanied him from the moment he entered this place.

Even if his information-his guess-was wrong, he was enjoying this. He had a reason to be here.

He hadn't realized how much he hated Wagner, how much he blamed the b.a.s.t.a.r.d for every single painful day in that hospital, for each and every agonizing movement in physical therapy, for all those excruciating surgeries designed to rebuild him the way he had been before.

As if he could ever be the way he had been before.

The elevator stopped. He remembered the way that the doors opened onto the reception area, the way that Wagner's office seemed like its own fortress.

Well, Nyquist was storming that fortress now. Despite all the a.s.sociates gathered in front of the doors, trying to protect their boss.

”Detective,” one of the a.s.sociates said, ”I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement-” ”And I'm sure we can't,” Nyquist said. ”Step aside, or I'll arrest you.”

”You can't arrest everyone in the firm,” said another a.s.sociate, a thin young woman with glittery eyes.

He stopped for the first time since he started his charge into WSX. ”Of course I can,” he said. ”We have a report here of a kidnapping in progress. I can do anything I want to do. Now get the h.e.l.l out of my way.”

They got. Leaving him and his team in front of that big black door.

Nyquist was about to open it when another a.s.sociate stepped in front of him.

”At least let me tell him you're here,” the a.s.sociate said.

But Nyquist shoved him aside.

He'd tell Wagner himself why he was here.

And then he'd arrest the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, whether Flint was inside the room or not.

50.

”Hear me out,” Wagner said, his hand up, as if Flint could flee from the sound of the man's voice. Flint had been listening to the man ever since they both realized that neither of them had killed Ki Bowles, and he didn't want to listen anymore.

He just couldn't think of an alternative. If he grabbed Talia's hand and burst out of the office, he'd get caught by those thugs again-and this time they might kill his daughter, especially after what Wagner had said about her.

Some people didn't consider clones human. Apparently Wagner was one of those.

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