“Congratulations, Inspector. A fine job,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Was it scrambled?” he added hopefully.
She shook his hand with a crooked smile. “How many times do I have to tell you, the last one can’t harm itself.”
“So it’s going through probate?”
“Kicking and screaming, but already out the other side. And now everything is fine, just like I said, and it can’t believe that it put up such a fuss.”
Costa stopped talking and gave him a funny look. Here it comes, Fred thought, the end of my career. He glanced at the towel he was still holding and Costa turned her back so that he could finish dressing.
“And did you interrogate it?” he asked.
“Libby did, yes.” He waited for her to continue, but she said, “Anyway, today’s mission was one for the books, wouldn’t you say, Londenstane?”
“A thrill a minute, Inspector.”
2.10
“Cabinet’s through probate?” Meewee said, looking around the boardroom.
“Isn’t that what I just said, your holiness?” Jaspersen snapped. He didn’t seem at all pleased by the news, and Meewee wondered if this was an unexpected turn of events. “It asks to join us,” Jaspersen went on, “and if no one objects—?”
The persona of the elderly chief of staff appeared behind Jaspersen’s chair. Jaspersen motioned it to the other side of the table, and the mentar went around to stand behind an empty chair.
“Good afternoon, myren,” it said. “Thank you for allowing me to address you. As you know, today has seen a great tragedy, but let me assure you that, except for a brief period during my visit to the pleasant offices of the Justice Department, the operations of Starke Enterprises have remained firmly in my hands. The court has appointed me to a custodial role until Eleanor Starke’s estate is settled.” The mentar paused to look at the individual board members around the table. Its gaze seemed to linger on Meewee. “I see by the minutes,” it continued, “that you have elected an interim chair. I congratulate you, Myr Jaspersen.”
Jaspersen nodded stiffly.
“I see also new discussion on the Federated Chinas matter. There is probably no reason to remind you that in Myr Starke’s opinion, Oships were not ‘for sale’ at any price.”
“That’s true!” Meewee crowed. “I told you, Jaspersen.”
“If Myr Starke were here,” Cabinet went on, ignoring the outburst, “I am sure she would still oppose the Chinas offer. But as Myr Jaspersen has so succinctly pointed out, the times have changed. It is this board’s prerogative to conduct Garden Earth Project business as it sees fit, and I will not oppose any valid decisions it makes. I will, however, use all of the substantial resources at my disposal to preserve Starke Enterprises’ right to participate in making those decisions.”
Meewee nearly bounced in his seat.
“That being said,” Cabinet continued, “let me state for the record that I look favorably on the Chinas proposal.”
Members let out a collective sigh, but Meewee was astonished.
“As a mentar, I supported my sponsor, even when I didn’t agree with her. On this matter, I never agreed with Myr Starke.”
“But that’s not true,” Meewee blurted out. “You and I and Eleanor had many private conversations on this topic, and you professed complete agreement with her viewpoint.”
“Furthermore,” Cabinet said, “although I intend to retain Starke Enterprises’ second seat on this board, the current occupant of that seat may not be the best choice to fill it. I’m thinking that someone from senior management would make a more informed representative.”
Meewee jumped to his feet, “You can’t do that!”
Cabinet turned to Meewee. “You happen to be correct, Myr Meewee. I cannot replace you now or in the immediate future. Under custodial guidelines, I am to maintain current Starke Enterprises operations without making major changes, at least until the fate of the corporation has been resolved. I believe shuffling members of Starke Enterprises’ many boards might be interpreted as exceeding my authority. But be assured, this situation is only temporary.”
Cabinet turned back to the board. “I would like to close my presentation by offering my view of the future of Starke Enterprises, if the board would care to hear it.”
“By all means, Cabinet,” Jaspersen said eagerly.
Meewee covered his face with his hands. He should have known it was too good to be true, Eleanor’s brilliant plan. He had failed her.
“The bulk of Eleanor’s estate,” Cabinet continued, “including all of Starke Enterprises and all of its subsidiaries, will pass to her daughter, Ellen. I am custodian until Ellen is declared competent.”
Meewee raised his head. Ellen? He’d been so preoccupied with the future of the GEP, he’d given no thought to the fate of Eleanor’s daughter during this whole loathsome day.
“Tragically,” Cabinet continued, “Ellen may not survive her trauma. If she dies or is never declared competent, Starke Enterprises will be broken up and sold by the court. In that case, I shall recommend to the executor that interested Garden members be given first option to Heliostream and other subsidiaries directly involved in the project.”
Meewee caught Chapwoman and Jaspersen exchanging a sly glance.
“If Ellen does recover, as we all hope she does, it’ll be up to her to decide Starke Enterprises’ future and my role in it. My guess, based upon a lifetime association with her, is that she’ll want nothing to do with her deceased mother’s corporate interests and that she will break it up for sale.”
Maybe, Meewee thought, or maybe not. He, too, had a long association with the girl, and although she might never fill her mother’s shoes, he was certain she would respect Eleanor’s legacy. If only he could talk to her, he was certain he could persuade her. Maybe Garden Earth wasn’t dead yet.
“Excuse me,” he said. “Where is Ellen right now?”
Cabinet turned to him. “I believe she’s still in transit.”
“Transit to where?” Meewee said. “I want to pay my respects.”
“I will convey them for you,” Cabinet said.
“Thank you, but I wish to pay them in person.”
“I’m sorry, but Ellen’s whereabouts are not public information.”
Jaspersen cleared his throat and said, “I would ask you two to please conduct personal business like this outside this meeting frame.”
“But—” Meewee said.
Relax, Merrill, Zoranna said. Ellen is arriving at the Roosevelt Clinic in Decatur.
The Roosevelt Clinic was one of Byron Fagan’s facilities. Meewee glared at Fagan, who looked away. Coward, he thought. You’re all cowards, conspirators, bastards.
WHEN THE MEETING adjourned, Meewee left the boardroom and took a lift down to his subterranean offices. The handful of Heliostream employees he passed along the way seemed unaware of the morning’s profound events. Behind his office door, Meewee sagged with exhaustion. He collapsed into his armchair for a gentle massage and ordered his vermilion overalls to loosen up a size or two. That felt better. “Arrow,” he said, “fetch me a glass of Merlot. And while you’re at it, fix me a little something for lunch.”
“Complying,” said his mentar.
Mentar. A dozen years ago, when Eleanor offered him Arrow’s sponsorship, she had assured him that the AI was in the hi-index range. It was his first personal relationship with anything more powerful than a belt valet, since Birthplace had been chronically underfunded and unable to provide its staff with personal assistants. At first he had been reluctant to accept Arrow—he still had “sentience slavery” issues—but Eleanor had made it clear that Arrow, employment at Heliostream, and a seat on the GEP board were a package deal. Although Meewee had had very little personal contact with mentars, he quickly assessed Arrow’s abilities to be sub-par, especially when compared to the leading sentients he began to deal with on a daily basis: Nick, E-P, Cruz, and especially the intimidating Cabinet. Next to them, Arrow seemed more like a minimally adequate office subem. It lacked any amount of initiative or self-awareness. It didn’t seem to have a personality whatsoever, and as far as he could tell, the other mentars dismissed it as wasted paste.