Wil remembered Tioulang's sudden panic; the man feared someone in particular. "You have him protected?"
"Yes. Almost as well as you, though he doesn't know it. For the time being I won't risk snatching him."
"You want to know my favorite candidate for villain? Phil Genet."
Yel‚n leaned forward. "Why?"
"He showed up just a few minutes after Tioulang took off. The man reeks of evil."
" `Reeks of evil'? That's a professional opinion, is it?"
Wil rubbed his eyes. "Hey, you wanted to get my `impressions,' remember?" But she was right; he wouldn't have put it that way if he'd been thinking straight.
"Phil's a sadist. I've known that for years. And I think he's worse now that we've got all the low-techs out of stasis-you little guys are such easy victims. I saw how he worked you over about Lindemann. I'm sorry about stunning you, Wil, but 1 can't tolerate any of the old grudges."
Wil nodded, faintly surprised. There was something near sympathy in her voice. In fact, he was grateful she had stunned him down. "Genet is capable of murder, Yel‚n."
"Lots of people are. What would you have done to Lindemann if... ? Look, neither of us likes Phil. That by itself is no big deal; I don't especially like you, and yet we get along. It's a matter of common interest. He helped Marta and me a lot. I doubt if we could have rescued the Peacers without his construction equipment. He's more than proved he wants the settlement to succeed."
"Maybe. But now that everyone has been brought together, perhaps your `common interest' is dead. Maybe he wants to run. the whole show."
"Hmm. He knows none of us have a chance if we start shooting. You think he's really crazy?"
"I don't know, Yel‚n. Look at the recording again. I had the feeling he wasn't taunting just me. He knew you'd be listening. I think he was laughing at you, too. Like he was on the verge of some triumph, something the sadist in him couldn't resist hinting at."
"So you think he set up the glowball-and was laughing at us all the time he was `clueing you in.' " She pursed her lips. "It doesn't make sense... but I guess I'm paying for your intuition as much as anything else. I'll break a few more autons out of stasis, try to keep better tabs on Phil."
She sat back, and for a moment Wil thought she might be done with him. "Okay. I want to go over your other conversations." She noticed his expression. "Look, Inspector. I didn't ask you to socialize for your health. You're my low-tech point of vie". We've got a murder here, incipient civil war, and everybody's general dislike for me. Just about everything A saw today has a connection with these things. I want you reactions while they're fresh."
So they reviewed the picnic. Literally. Yel‚n insisted o, playing much of the video. She really did need help. Whether it was the centuries of living apart or her high-tech viewpoint , Wil didn't know, but there were many things about the picnic she didn't understand. She had no sympathy for the women dilemma. The first time they viewed the women's meeting, she made an obscure comment about "people having to pay for other people's mistakes." Was she referring to the Korolev failure to bring womb tanks?
Wil had her play the scene again, and he tried to explain Finally she became a little angry. "Sure they've got to make sacrifices. But don't they realize it's the survival of the human race that's at stake?" She waved her hand. "I can't believe their nature is that different from earlier centuries. When the crunch comes, they'll do what they must." Would the queen on the mountain also do her female duty? Would she have six kids-or twelve? Brierson didn't voice the question. He could do without a Korolev explosion.
The sunlight streaming through Yel‚n's windows slowly shifted from morning to afternoon. The clock on Wil's data set showed it was way past the Witching Hour. If they kept going he'd be seeing real sunlight, through his own windows. Finally the analysis wound back to Wil's conversation with Jason Mudge. Korolev stopped him. "You can take Mudge off your list of suspects, Inspector."
Wil had been about to say the same. He simulated curiosity -Why?"
"The jerk fell off the cliffs last night, right on his point head."
Brierson lurched to wakefulness. "You mean, he's dead?
"Dead beyond all possible resuscitation, Inspector. For a his God-mongering, he was no teetotaler. The autopsy showed blood alcohol at 0.22 percent. He left the party a little befog you ran into Lindemann. Apparently he couldn't find anyone who'd even pretend to listen. The last I saw he was weaving l59 along the westward bluffs. He got about fifteen hundred meters down the path, must have slipped where it comes near the cliff edge. One of my routine patrols found the body just after you got back here. He'd been in the water a couple of hours."
He rested his chin in his palms and slowly shook his head.
Yel‚n. Yel‚n. We've talked all through the night, and all that time your autons have been investigating and dissecting... and never a word that a man has died. "I asked you to keep an eye on him.
"Well, I decided not to. He just wasn't that important." Korolev was silent a moment. Something of his attitude must have penetrated. "Look, Brierson, I'm not happy he died. Eventually he might have dropped that `Third Coming' garbage and been of some use. But face it: The man was a parasite, and having him out of the way is one less suspect-however farfetched."
"Okay, Yel‚n. It's okay."
He should have guessed the effect of his assurance. Yel‚n leaned forward. "Are you really that paranoid, Brierson? Do you think Mudge was murdered, too?"
Maybe. What might Mudge know that could make it worth silencing him? He owned little high-tech equipment, yet he did know systems. Maybe he'd been the murderer's pet vandal, now deemed a liability. Wil tried to remember what they had talked about, but all that came was the little guy's intent expression. Of course, Yel‚n would be willing to play the conversation back. Again and again. It was the last thing he wanted now. "Let our paranoias go their separate ways, Yel‚n. If I think of anything, I'll let you know."
For whatever reason, Korolev didn't push him. Fifteen minutes later she was off the comm.
Wil straggled up to his bedroom, relieved and disappointed to be alone at last.
SIXTEEN
As usual there was a morning dream, but not the dream in blue this time, not the dream of parting, of gasping sobs that emptied his lungs. This was the dream of the many houses. He woke again and again, always to a house that should have been familiar, yet wasn't. There were yards and neighbors, never quite understood. Sometimes he was married. Mostly he was alone; Virginia had just left or was at some other house. Sometimes he saw them-Virginia, Anne, Billy-and that was worse. Their conversations were short, about packing, a trip to be made. And then they were gone, leaving Wil to try to understand the purpose of the hidden rooms, the doors that wouldn't open.
When Wil really woke, it was with a desperate start, not the sobbing breathlessness of the blue dream. He felt a resentful relief, seeing the sun streaming past the almost-jacarandas into his bedroom. This was a house that didn't change from day toy day, a house he had almost accepted-even if it was the source for some of the dreams. He lay back for a second; sometimes he almost recognized the others, too; one was a mixture of this place and the winter home they bought in California just before... the Lindemann case. Wil smiled weakly at himself. These morning entertainments had greater intensity than any novel he'd ever played. Too bad he wasn't a fan of the tearjerkers.
He glanced at his mail. There was a short note from Lu: Tammy had agreed to a three-month bobblement, subject to a ten-hour flicker. Good. The other items were from Yel‚n: megabytes of analysis on the party. Ugh. She'd expect him to know all this the next time they talked. He sat down, browsed through the top nodes. There were a couple of things he was especially curious about. Mudge, for instance.