And she had a phone number that might or might not be of any value. ''That phone number is from uptown,'' Kris said.
''Real high priced,'' Bronc answered.
''Gramma Ganna says we'll move up there soon,'' Cara added.
''Sounds dangerous,'' Abby said.
''Guess I'll cover that one myself,'' Kris said. ''Abby, what would you suggest I wear?''
33
The kids were right, this neighborhood was Garden City's high-priced district. The estates were huge and set far apart by well-appointed grounds. Some looked new. Others showed the gradual growth that marked Nuu House. Add-ons…not always according to the best of architectural taste…as it passed from one generation to the next.
It hadn't been at all easy for Kris to find it.
The archived phone number said a Mr. Ohi Tristram, VII, lived there. The social database agreed that he still lived there…but gave no further information. All of the data elements on income, social status, and the likes were blank.
''I guess you can buy your way out of just about anything on this planet,'' Kris muttered.
''Should I buy the next database up?'' Nelly asked.
''Not for that present computer you're operating. Nelly, buy a new one and start all over again, clean.'' While Nelly was doing that, Doc arrived, tossed his car keys to the Marine captain, and went to meditate at the photo wall.
''We need to send someone to pick up these computers,'' Gunny said.
''Nelly, buy two more,'' Kris ordered. ''We'll give them to the company rec room later. And have them if we need them now.''
And another Marine in civvies headed out the door.
Which meant a lot of Marines were going in a lot of directions using just about every vehicle available. NELLY, RENT A DOZEN RIGS, COMPACTS TO ALL-TERRAIN.
I WAS WONDERING WHEN YOU WOULD ASK ME. I WILL USE SEVERAL DIFFERENT RENTAL SITES AND DIFFERENT CREDIT CHITS.
OH, AND WE MAY NEED TO BE READY TO TRAVEL FARTHER AND FASTER THAN A CAR CAN HANDLE.
I WAS ABOUT TO ASK THAT, TOO, Nelly said, about as proud of herself as a computer can get.
''Kris, Your Highness,'' Bronc said. ''The new database isn't showing anything more than the old one.''
''Who is this guy?'' Jack grumbled under his breath.
''Who you looking for?'' Doc said, turning from the pictures.
''Ohi Tristram the Seventh,'' Kris rattled off the address.
''Oh, O'Heidi. Why didn't you say so,'' Doc said with a grin. ''I've partied at his place several times.''
''Heidi,'' Kris said.
''You'd have to meet him to understand.''
''What can you tell us about him?'' Jack demanded.
Doc shrugged. ''A bit of a fop. Doing the only thing he learned from his daddy, which is spend down the family trust. The family was very prominent in the early years, but I don't think a penny has been added to the trust in three generations. But he throws nice parties. Madge, my girlfriend, introduced me to his scene. A good place to meet Garden City's B-list.''
''Kris, I am running Tristram through the social section of the media,'' Nelly said. ''He does regularly make the end filler section.''
''Been there lately?'' Jack asked Doc.
''Can't say that I have. The eating was good, but I can pay for my own chow and eat it in better company.''
''What about the company?'' Kris asked.
''A lot of bellyaching. Mostly younger kids who didn't inherit the family business. They sit around complaining about how hard it is to start up new businesses these days. Not good for my digestion,'' Doc said, rubbing his well-padded belly.
''And eight years ago, he paid to make himself disappear from most Eden databases,'' Kris said, rubbing her chin.
''Why would a playboy spend money to dig a hole and pull the lid over it?'' Jack said, drumming his hands on the table that showed, for now, only a map of Garden City.
''Eight years ago, you say,'' Doc said, taking a chair at their table. ''It was about that time the eats went sour. Four years ago I quit going.''
Kris thought about that as she let Abby dress her to impress. Flowing red slacks and a loose-fitting golden shirt covered her thick body armor very well.
Pulling up to the mansion in an armored Marine transport, Kris eyed the setup as an auto-security station scanned her ID. High stone wall. Overgrown. Rather obvious security cameras were either very old or meant to be seen. Were they backed up with less visible ones?
KRIS, I'M GETTING NO EMISSIONS FROM ANYTHING BUT THE VISIBLE ONES.
THANK YOU, NELLY.
Kris had to give a palm print before the gate opened. Wonder if he did this to all his party guests? She'd left Doc back at the embassy, so she had no answer.
At the big house, Kris once again had to go through the security formalities, as did Jack and Abby. Kris left Captain DeVar in the car. No need letting these folks know who all she was in cahoots with.
An auto-servant greeted Kris. Little more than a pole on six wheels, it led Kris threw a long entrance hall. The chairs showed wear. A glass of white wine, half empty, was on the fireplace's mantelpiece. Some machine's opticals needed mending.
Mr. Ohi Tristram the Seventh, O'Heidi to some, awaited them at his desk in a huge library. The walls were lined with musty smelling books in imitation leather bindings. Overstuffed loungers offered partygoers places to relax in small groups. The quiet room for the party?
Mr. Tristram stood and offered Kris his hand. Did he get his nickname from the way he hid behind the desk or from his short stature…say five feet and a smidgen?
''What can I do for you?'' he mumbled as Kris shook a very weak, moist hand. She let go of it with relief.
Kris saw no benefit in a long introduction. ''My great-grandmother, Ruth Tordon, has disappeared.''
''Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.'' He didn't sound very. ''I hadn't heard about it on the news.''
''It probably hasn't made it there yet.''
Tristram's face went rubbery at that. First he showed confusion, probably at the speed Kris was moving. Speed that brought her to him. He finally put on a smirk and waited for Kris to go on.
She did. ''It seems that your telephone number was found at the office of the security advisory firm that sent her the guards that vanished with her.''
O'Heidi took a moment to absorb the words. Then he shook his head. ''Oh, I am sad to hear that. About the guards disappearing. I hope they weren't hurt.'' His reply didn't sound like anything more than an attempt to dodge the obvious.
''I was wondering how your phone number came to be there?''
Mr. Tristram shrugged. At least his shoulders moved. His face stayed in a vacant grin. ''I have no idea. Lots of people attend my parties. Many tell their friends about them. Some come. Others don't. Birds of each feather seek their own.''
''Who provides your security?'' Kris asked.
He giggled. ''I really don't know. I leave that to the house 'puter. It lets the contract to bidding every few years and takes the lowest bidder. 'Puter's do it so much better than people. With 'puters, there's no risk of someone hanging their hand out for a kickback, don't you know.''
''Could your computer tell us who's providing the service these days?'' Jack asked.
''Oh no, that's never done. You must be new to Eden. That privacy is never violated. Strictly a business matter.''
''It's really important. I want to find my grandmother very much,'' Kris pointed out. She considered coming around the desk and towering over O'Heidi, but gave it up. If this fellow was going to lead them anywhere, it would not be intentionally.
O'Heidi steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. ''I am very sorry, but I certainly can't violate Eden's laws, now can I? Besides, I doubt if it would really help. These things usually work themselves out. Have you been asked for ransom?''
''We've had no call from the criminals,'' Kris bit out.
''Well, you should stay close to your phone,'' the man said, glancing at his, a rather antique-looking affair. ''If you miss that first call, you may not get another,'' he said helpfully.