Part 18 (2/2)

M. S. J. Meister had vanished as well. But Flint had names to work with: Mary Sue and Meister. He found various spellings and more scams, some connected to BiMela, some not.

Mary Sue had her fingerprints all over BiMela's corporate ent.i.ty, but Meister didn't. That name ended with the hydropower case.

But the name began long before that.

A flas.h.i.+ng red light caught Flint's attention. This table warned him with an obnoxious flas.h.i.+ng sign that his free privileges were about to be suspended. He opened the food menu, ordered more coffee than he needed, and a plate of spaghetti that he probably wouldn't eat.

The law students behind him were still arguing. Another human had joined the Peyti across the room and was worrying about an interdome law exam. A handful of Dhyos pressed their long fingers together at still a third table, obviously arguing as well.

A tray piled with cake floated by. Another followed, this time with an entire pot of coffee, a new mug, and a plate of spaghetti covered with a sauce that was too orange.

Flint took the items, tasted the sauce, winced at its sour flavor, and went back to work.

Before Meister appeared in the corporate records, she had run individual scams all over the Outlying Colonies. Reading her history was like reading the development of a con artist. Flint would find variations of her name all over the news reports and records, mostly after she had left an area. Because the scams were small, the news rarely made it to the various nations inside the Outlying Colonies. Instead, the news was local and vanished as quickly as Meister did.

Over time, her cons got larger and more effective. She seemed to be gaining an understanding of the various legal systems and how much they confused the average human in the Alliance. No one knew, outside their own area, what was legal and what wasn't.

She took advantage of that.

The scheme that backfired on her and brought her to the attention of all the Outlying Colonies was her first large scam. She had targeted a group of families, most of whom had come to the colonies after surviving a hideous ma.s.sacre on Mars.

Meister told the survivors that the Alliance owed them reparations for the illegal (and horrifying) deaths of their family members. She cited some case law that did in fact exist, which referred to compensation owed crime victims.

Unfortunately, that case law only applied to crimes committed on Earth. She had left that part out of her scheme.

Instead, she had told the survivors and their descendents that they were ent.i.tled to a lot of money. If they hired her as their legal counsel (at a significant cost per family), she would shepherd the case through the various courts.

She managed to collect a year's worth of fees from nearly a hundred families before someone looked up the case law for himself. The families confronted her, she made up some kind of fake story about the law being different now and she would get them the information, and then, that night, she fled the Outlying Colonies-with all of the survivors' money.

The news stories ran for nearly another year while the survivors searched for her. Reporters did human-interest stories on the financial burden she had placed on already overtaxed families. Some families lost everything because of her scam. Some family members lost jobs because of the time the members took to work on the case. A few of the older survivors died-a couple of them suicides, the rest because they could no longer afford the very basics of care.

Everyone else vowed revenge on Meister. And some of the younger members of the most devastated families promised they wouldn't quit looking for her until she was dead.

Flint leaned back in his chair and templed his fingers. Mars. Lagrima Jrgen, a.k.a. Mary Sue Jrgen Meister had been found on Mars, the victim of a murder complete with some kind of corpse mutilation. That showed extreme anger.

The kind of anger people who lost everything might display.

He had a hunch he found the incident that eventually got Jrgen Meister killed. But he still wasn't close to finding her family or helping the other contaminated people in Sahara Dome.

He let his hands fall to the tabletop. He wondered if Costard had disappeared yet. She hadn't really wanted to disappear anyway, and he was solving this faster than he expected. All it would take was a bit more work, and he would know if he could provide the humans in Sahara Dome with the names they needed to decontaminate their area.

Flint leaned forward, shut down the tabletop system, and then stood. He would go to Costard first, and if she had already left, then he would contact Sahara Dome himself.

For the first time in days, he felt like he actually had something positive to report.

29.

Hauk Rackam, the incoming leader of the Human Governments of Mars, paced in his large office. Three advisors sat on straight-backed chairs, watching him as if he were some kind of new alien species. He was terrified.

He stopped at the edge of his thousand-year-old Turkish carpet and whirled, his ceremonial robe flaring slightly.

”I don't have any real powers,” he said. ”I can't legally do anything.”

”Sir.” Wyome Nakamura stood. She was slight, her dark hair covering her like a gown. ”I think we have to worry about legalities later.”

She could worry about legalities later. It wasn't her neck on the line. She could always deny involvement: could worry about legalities later. It wasn't her neck on the line. She could always deny involvement: Of course I gave him advice, but we all did. In the end, he was the one who had to take it. Of course I gave him advice, but we all did. In the end, he was the one who had to take it.

”You'll be the head of the Human Government next week,” she said. ”I don't think it matters much.”

”According to the Disty Accords, it does,” he snapped. ”They'll only work with the actual head of government.”

”Who happens to be in Sahara Dome,” Nakamura said, ”which makes him contaminated and unable to have contact with the Disty.”

Of course, there was no second in command because the position really wasn't that important. The head of the Human Governments was mostly ceremonial. Usually the main administrative duty was to inform all of the human mayors of the Domes about decisions the Disty had made or changes in human-Disty relations.h.i.+ps. Nothing much. No negotiation. No difficult decisions. Just meals and hand waving and the occasional ceremonial summit.

Rackam had been looking forward to the state dinners and interstellar travel, all representing a not-very-united group of humans on a planet they didn't really control. He had expected two years of ceremonial acts that would only increase his visibility and make him a little more famous.

He liked the actual office itself. He'd used government funds to decorate it, down to the faintly citrus scent running through the environmental controls. He hadn't expected anything like this. ”Sir,” said Thomas Kim. Kim was a fusty little man, a.n.a.l and precise. ”I'm getting reports of hundreds dead.”

Rackam had asked his a.s.sistants to monitor the news channels as well as any messages that came for him. He shut off all but a single link-his emergency family node. He needed to be able to think.

”Disty dead, I trust,” he said.

Kim nodded. ”In Sahara Dome, outside Sahara Dome, and now, they think, in Wells.”

”Wells?” Rackam hadn't expected that. The trains had gone through Wells. The crisis was isolated, wasn't it? Half an hour ago, all the human heads of the Domes wanted to know was what to do with any incoming Disty. ”Why have Disty died in Wells?”

Kim shook his head. ”No one knows, sir.” Rackam wasn't a decision maker. That was the real problem. He needed someone who was, someone with the intelligence to handle widespread problems. When he'd gotten enhancements, he had focused on looks and charisma, not intelligence.

”We're still getting no response from the Disty,” said Zayna Columbus. She was heavyset, oblivious to appearance and charisma, and the only one on his staff with real brains.

Rackam looked at her, but she didn't look at him. Her gaze was fixed on one of the screens, her mind clearly far away. He wondered how many images she had running across her vision, and decided he didn't want to know.

”All of the Disty or just the High Command?” he asked, trying not to let the panic into his voice.

”I've been trying every organization I can think of,” she said, finally turning toward him. Her pupils were a kaleidoscope of colors, reflecting the various chips and implants she'd had installed.

”Even the Death Squads?” Kim asked.

She narrowed those strange eyes at him. ”We can't go directly to the Death Squads. We have enough contamination issues as it is.”

<script>