"Thanks," said Kyle. "You always did know exactly the right thing to say."
"Your frag-up, chummer, not mine."
"Look," Kyle said, "let me fill you in on what's going on here and then maybe we can figure it all out.”
"Deal," said Strevich.
"Deal," said Kyle, and then he began to give Dave Strevich me whole scan.
Strevich was quiet for most of Kyle's briefing, but it was obvious that the FBI man didn't want to be hearing any of this. The farther along Kyle got with the story, the more agitated Strevich seemed to become, though he fought unsuccessfully to hide it
“The nature of this spirit remains unclear. I don't recognize it offhand, but I also haven't had time to do any research," Kyle said in conclusion.
Strevich was silent, leaning back in his chair, staring away at something. "Kyle," he said, after a long pause, "we've been friends for a long time."
Kyle felt himself grow cold. He didn't like either the preamble or Strevich's quiet tone.
"Listen to me when I tell you-get away from the Truman boy."
"Why?” asked Kyle.
"I can't say."
Kyle slammed his fist on the desk, and the trideo image of Strevich jittered. "God damn it! You've got to tell me something!"
Strevich shook his head. "I can't. I swear to God I wish I could, but this is wrapped up so tight it scares me."
"You've got to tell me something."
"I am, Kyle-stay away from the Truman boy. What's going on there is bad, maybe as bad as it gets. You've walked straight into the middle of it. Disassociate yourself from the Trumans and disassociate yourself from your sister-in-law."
"My sister-in-law?" Kyle said. "What the frag does she have to do with-"
"I can't tell you any more," Strevich said. "If you've ever trusted my word, listen to me now. Get clear."
"I can't. Not without knowing more."
"I can't tell you more. You've got to understand."
Kyle nodded. "Yeah, I do," he said. "Goodbye, Dave." He reached out to hit the Disconnect, then sat there for sometime staring at the blank screen. Finally he picked up his portable phone and connected it to the datajack behind his left ear. A fraction of a second later he'd called up the number he needed and entered it. It rang twice, but there was no image. Like his own, Hanna Uljaken's cellular phone had no trideo pick-up.
This is Hanna Uljaken," she said.
"Hanna, Kyle Teller."
"Hello!" Her voice was bright and cheerful, and it sounded like she'd gotten even more sleep than he had.
“There's been no word of any change at the hospital."
“That's good, I suppose. But that's not why I'm calling. I need your help with some research. How quickly can you get over to my hotel room?"
She paused to think. “'Twenty minutes?"
"Good. I'll see you then."
He disconnected and then eyed the mess the room had devolved into. He'd have to get it cleaned up before she arrived. That and he'd need a shower.
Invoking the Truman named had Housekeeping in his room and working feverishly within five minutes of his call down to the front desk. The outer sitting room was fairly clean, just strewn with datapads and other such tech, but he wanted them to do a good job on the bedroom. He really didn't think about why.
Hanna arrived dressed in a smart blue and black Raphael business suit. Probably cost her ten times what Bern had paid for hers, he thought.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"Something big, but I don't know what it is," he said. "My sources aren't telling me much. But they know something. And if they do, someone else does too. I want to see what we can find."
"Of course."
"You use the terminal"-he motioned toward the desk- "and I'll set up my datapad on the other table and use its cellular link."
Hanna set her briefcase on the couch and removed her suit jacket, dropping it down there as well. She sat down at the telecom terminal and immediately began setting it up to search the various online and national databases.
Kyle picked up a pad off the desk and wrote some telecom numbers and passcodes on it. "Here are some that I've still got access to. Federal Data Repository, Smithsonian-Rand WorldFacts. Try these first."
"What am I looking for?"
"Do a multi-criteria search. We're looking for key words like 'spirit', 'free spirit', 'anima', and related terms. Also 'essence draining', 'neuropsychological damage', and the like. Anything similar to Mitch Truman's case."
She nodded. "That shouldn't be too hard."
"And once you get that up and running, I want to see if you can find Shadowland."
"You're joking."
"No, I'm not. I'm afraid the only way we'll get anything of real value is from the illegal databases, not the government and corp-supported boards."
"I haven't a clue how to get into it."
He smiled. "I know what's-his-name Devress does most of the 'independent personnel" hiring for the Truman family, but I'll bet you've got some connections of your own."
She smiled. "Maybe I do."
"Use them to find the local Shadowland node."
"And then?"
"Same multi-criteria search, but this time add in a few more. Add in 'Universal Brotherhood', 'Knight Errant', and anything else you can think of."
"Why the Brotherhood?"
He shrugged. “There might be a connection between what's going on here and them, but I don't know."
"All right. I can at least try," she said. "Where will you be searching?"
"Magicknet," he said.
"Never heard of it"
"No reason you should have. It's like Shadowland for magicians. I think I know where to access it, but it might take a little work."
She nodded, then began tapping in commands at the terminal.
A moment later Kyle was busy doing the same.
It took him just over an hour to track down the access number for Magicknet's Chicago node. It wasn't a public board, but one used by those interested in pirated spell information, formulae, and other non-public information on the subject of magic. He knew there were several continuously updated databases there on the subject of spirits, their abilities, and origins. If anyone who'd ever accessed the board had encountered anything even remotely similar, it would be noted in the archives. Unless he was dealing with a unique, or possibly small group of virtually unique spirits, Kyle figured his chances would be pretty good. But considering that the total database of Magicknet was measured in terabytes, trillions of bytes of data, that search could take hours… But that's what computers were for.
Across the room, Hanna was working her way diligently toward finding the more mundane Shadowland system. She was in mid-call, trying to cajole a news-snoop acquaintance of hers into giving her the telecom number of a data fiend who might know Shadowland's current access number. Not wanting to interrupt her, he simply waved, pointed to the door, and quietly left. Intent on her efforts, she barely noticed.
Ellen Shaw's apartment was on Chicago's west side, in the neighborhood known as Cicero. Kyle was surprised to find a parking spot so easily; he'd planned to double-park and let Truman worry about the five-hundred nuyen fine. Instead, he switched to manual control and guided the car into an ample spot one door down from where Ellen Shaw lived.
It was late afternoon, but the block was quiet Further up the street, a group of kids were playing with some kind of remote-control aircraft that buzzed in and out of a courtyard apartment. Two nearly white squirrels eyed him expectantly, waiting for some offering of food. He waved at them and kept walking.