He sat down with Collins and Robley, and saw Persky pay out and leave.
Just one and two at a time. But the ‘deck telegraph moved like lightning.
Another call from Payne’s office. Salvatore said, “Yes, sir,” and, “We’re trying, sir, we’ve thought of that, sir, we’re trying that too…”
Payne said: “Don’t tell me ‘trying.’ I want all the records, I want the whole file on this guy. On allof them. Don’t give me another dead kid with relatives in MarsCorp, dammit, Administration’s had enough surprises in this case! I want to know who this Dekker is, I want to know if he’s got a record, I don’t care if it’s a misdemeanor, I want a total profile on him! You hear me? All the files, no ten-year cutoff, I want them as far back as they go, and I want them yesterday!”
Payne hung up. The comp flashed up a new message: Workers in Textiles 2B are demanding to be let go. There’s been some breakage, some pushing and shoving, manager’s scared and wants some help.
And another from Crayton’s office: Fleet Operations is recalling its personnel from liberty, stationing armed guards at two shuttle docks and at essential lifesupport and manufacturing accesses. We need immediate operations coordination…
God, Salvatore thought, and a report from Wills came in:
Morris Bird had dinner reservations at the Europa, for five. It was a no-show.
He wantedthe inhaler. He didn’t dare. “Call my wife at home,” he told his secretary. “Tell her to check on my daughter. Make sure she’s in the dorm.” He sipped cold coffee, trying to think who he could spare to liaison with the MP’s.
More messages crawled across the screen. A man is having chest pains in Textiles 2B. Paramedics have been called…
Wills again: Brown’s turned up a witness in customs who thinks Meg Kady was in the core at about 2040h. He’s not sure on that, says he saw all of them come and go the last few days taking parts back and forth— they had a permit for that, a ship in refit. We do have a confirmation on a card access for Dekker up there at 1723h. No exit. No card use at all from Kady since a phone call at 1846, from The Black Hole to The Pacific. The owner at The Black Hole claims they all left about 1900. He thinks.
Two people slipping a security gate on a borrowed card. Happened once or twice a week, usually for assignations.
The mast was a hell of a job to search, even under optimum conditions.
Textiles 2B reports a riot in progress. Manager requests additional security and paramedics…
Priority came through, bumped that: Virus Alert: Technical level shutdown.
Priority override: A virus is copying an unauthorized file through the Belt Management System. Contents are illicit sector charts. Virus variation onCOPYIT. Request computer crimes division to trace and erase proliferation through BM system.
“… cleared of all fault in the accident, which occurred as the result of a catastrophic equipment failure, and urges Mr. Dekker to contact the hospital immediately…”
Bird gave the vid a look over his shoulder, shook his head and looked at Tim Egel. “You’re a good numbers man. You believe that line?”
“No,” Egel said. “Not the tooth fairy either. Shoved to the Well by a load. I’d like to see the math on that one.”
“They don’t teach physics in Business Ad.”
“Don’t teach math either, do they?” That was a tender-jock, in on it, beer in hand. “What kind of stuff is that they’re giving out?”
“They want Dekker back in hospital. They worked him over with drugs. But he remembered the numbers anyway. That’s what they can’t cover up. 79, 709, 12. There was a bloody great rock there. That’s what it was about. That ‘driver came down on them while they were tagging it. Now the ‘driver’s sitting out there stripping that rock to loads. I’d like to match those loads with the sample Dekker had in his sling.”
“Can anybody do that?”
“I got the sample. It’s on record in Assay.”
“This here’s Morrie Bird,” Egel said.”The guy that brought Dekker in.”
“No shit! I heard of you! You’re the oldguy!”
Being famous got you drinks. Being famous could also get you arrested. He took a couple of swigs from the beer the guy insisted to buy him, and set it down, said, “If you’re curious, check the boards for a file named Dekker. With two k’s.”
“Dekker,” the jock said.
Egel said, in Bird’s diminishing hearing, “ I’lltell you what they’re up to, friend. They weren’t going to pay that rock out to any freerunner. Pretty soon they won’t pay it to a company miner either. Or the tenders. When the freerunners go, there go the perks anybodygets on the company ticket. When they don’t have to compete with independents like us…”
“They can’t do that,” somebody else said.
Time to leave, Bird thought. Getting a little warm in here. He set his drink down and slid backward in the crowd, faced about for an escape and saw cops coming into the place.
The cops waded in through the middle of the crowd yelling something about a closing order and residents only; and he stuck to the shadows until there was a clear doorway.
Outside, then. In the clear. But that was it—cops were getting just a little active.
“Where arethey?” Meg asked the only live human being she could find in the place—no Mitch, now, just this pasty-faced guy at the desk with the phone, with no calls coming in that she’d heard. Nothing was coming in, that she could tell, not even the vid, for what good it might be.
“No word yet,” the Shepherd said—guy in his thirties, serious longnose, busy with the com-plug in his ear— notliking real rab on his clean club carpet. He focused for a moment, lifted a manicured hand to delay her. “Ms. Kady—go a little easy on the whiskey.”
She’d started away. She came back, leaned her hands on the desk. “I’m all right on the whiskey, mister. Where’s Mitch? Where’s my partner?”
“We have other problems.”
“What?”
A wave-off. A frown on the Shepherd’s face. He was listening to something. Then not.
“Look. I hate like hell to inconvenience you guys, but I have a seriously upset guy in there who’s damned tired of runarounds. So am I. Suppose you tell me what’s going on.”
“A great many police is what’s going on. They’re still holding 2-shift.”
“Shit.”
“Don’t be an ass, Kady.—That door’s locked.”
“Then open it!”
“Kady, get the hell back to the bar—get that kid back in there.”
“Meg?”
She turned around, saw Dekker in the foyer. “Dek, just be patient, I’m trying to get some answers.”
“There aren’t any answers, Kady, just keep the kid entertained.”
She saw a flash of total red. Bang, with her hand on the counter. “Listen, you son of a bitch—where the fuck is my partner?”
“I don’t know where your partner is. If she followed orders she’d be here.”
“She doesn’t know we’ve got him! She’s not on your network!”
“I don’t know where a lot of people are, right now, Kady—we’ve got a lot more problems than your—” The Shepherd pressed his earpiece closer, held up a hand for silence.