He had passed the word on up via his superior, and that had resulted in the immers' changing their scrambler format every few weeks.
Tingle had asked Paz about the motive behind his eavesdropping. Paz had said that Tingle had no need to know. Tingle's theory, kept to himself, was that the immer council meant to use the information as future protection for itself. Or, perhaps, it was using it now to pressure these officials for its own obscure but doubtless worthy reasons.
During his "ghosting," Tingle had selected and stored certain data. If he should need protection for himself, he would not be above using it.
Thinking of this, he was touched by a "ghost" of the thought that he, Tingle, would not hesitate to use blackmail if he had to. But Caird, his Tuesday client, would have considered that dishonorable.
Looking at the strips, he was reminded that he was supposed to get coercion data for Nokomis' use. That could not be done today, which meant that she was going to be angry with him. He sighed. Snick was his number-one priority. If he had time, he could tackle the Castor problem.
He muttered, "Castor should have been put in abeyance as soon as possible. Then we wouldn't be having this crisis."
The immer council must have been aware of what needed doing. But the legal procedure for stoning Castor as an incurable required that he be thoroughly questioned. He might not have revealed his immer identity to the authorities, especially if he had insisted that he was God. The immer council, however, could not take that chance. It had had to keep him alive as a possibly curable mental patient.
Tingle sighed again and, whistling softly the tune of "The Criminal Creed," Ko-Ko's song in Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado, started work on Project Snick. The strip displays were replaced by the codes needed to break into the Sunday organic files. These were provided by an immer data bank not to be used except in extreme emergencies. Which this was. Tingle, however, had to wield them carefully, since it was possible that a security system other than the one he knew was now being used by the Sunday data bankers.
Sunday's people were all stoned-except for Snick, of course-but when they awoke on their appointed day, they would know that someone had tried to ghost into the bank. If, that is, Tingle's requests for data tripped the alarm. If this happened, he would have to cover his own electronic tracks. He might even have to wipe out the immer data bank to keep the organics from tracing it to the source.
Within fifteen minutes, Tingle had gotten from six different sources all the available biographical data re Panthea Pao Snick. After two hours of trying every safe approach and every relevant circuit, he gave up trying to get her official orders for her mission. Either they were inaccessible or she had gotten them verbally.
At least, he knew all her weaknesses. That is, all that had been recorded. From his own experience, however, he knew that she could have withheld some of them from the government psychicists. He was just going to start his inquiries into Castor when all the operating strips flashed red and the data displays faded. Startled, he spoke into the strip connected with the door. His heart was beating fast, telling him that he was not as calm as he wanted to be. He was more distressed than he had admitted to himself.
"It's me," Paz's voice said.
The security system was set up to warn Tingle and to turn off the displays if anyone tried to talk to him through the strips or inserted a lock-tip into the door hole.
Tingle pressed a button. The door swung open. Though he knew that Paz would have warned him if he had a companion, he swung around on the chair to make sure. Paz strode in; the door swung shut.
Tingle opened his mouth to tell his chief that he had not taken as much time with Snick as he had expected. The paleness and grimness of Paz's face cut off his intention. He said, "What's the matter?"
"The news on the organic channel! Somebody's been killed in the house next to your apartment building! I don't know, of course. It may be just a coincidence, but Castor ..
Tingle had risen to greet Paz. Suddenly feeling woozy, he sat back down.
Paz said, "Hey, what's the matter?"
In that moment, Tingle had become a little less Tingle and a little more of Caird.
"Who's been killed?"
"Hell, I don't know!" Paz said loudly. "They were just bringing out the body. I thought since you live next door and Castor ... maybe he was found there and he got killed. Or he killed someone in the house by mistake."
Paz did not know that Caird lived next door to Tingle. It was not necessary that he have that information.
"I think ... " Tingle said.
Paz said, "Yes?" He looked expectantly at Tingle.
Tingle made a dismissing motion with his hand.
"Never mind. Turn the channel on. We'll wait and see. This may have nothing to do with us. There are a dozen explanations ..
Paz breathed in deeply several times. "Yes. I probably jumped the gun, got spooked. It's just a coincidence. But if Castor was cornered there and killed, that's all to the good."
The strip showed blue-uniformed organics on the sidewalk and in the street holding back the curious. Three news crews were shooting the scene. There were several patrol cars and an ambulance from the coroner's office parked near the curb. Two men were guiding a cart down the steps, its wheels moving up and down to adjust to the steps. On top of the cart, strapped down, was a green bodybag-filled.
The face of Channel 87's on-the-spot reporter, Robert Amanullah, appeared on the screen. He said, "We've just talked to Maha Aditi Rotwa via ..
The strip went blank.
Chapter 12
"Organic cutoff," Paz said. "What're they suppressing?"
Whatever the reason, other cameras were still operating. Paz ordered two other channels on, and these showed the scene from different angles. After a thirty-second delay, Channel 87 came back on. Amanullah was talking again but not saying a word about the identity of the body. This was put into the ambulance, which moved away slowly through the crowd. Once beyond the onlookers, the ambulance picked up speed but did not turn on its lights and siren. There was no hurry.
From what reporters said, someone had been murdered in the house. No details were known as yet. When the reporters got the story from the organics, they would broadcast it. Meanwhile ... two of the cameras shifted to the East Side and other reporters took over the on-the-spot news there. Channel 87 continued its coverage, probably because Amanullah was angry at being censored.
"It's a clampdown," Paz said. "It may be hours before we find out."
"Or never."
Tingle rose unsteadily, walked to a wall and activated a strip. He asked a few questions, listened, then turned to Paz.
"You heard?"
"Yes. Rotwa lives in the house ..
Tingle stopped. He had almnost told Paz that he knew Rotwa. Or, at least, had seen her face many times through her cylinder window in the basement of that house.
The corpse could be Castor's. Or it could be Ozma's. It could not be one of the two Wednesday occupants because the woman was still alive. If she had murdered her husband, she would have been hustled out long ago, stoned to prevent an escape attempt.
There was a code that Tingle could use to ghost into the organic records. This, however, was to be used only in red-emergency situations. Wasn't this one?
"We have to find out if the body was Castor's," he said.
Paz frowned, thought a minute, then said, "If he's dead, there's no hurry. We'll find out eventually."