"Okay." But he wondered if Lu's reaction would be the same.
"Good. Now I want to get your impression of what you saw today. I watched it all myself, but "
Wil held up a hand. "How about waiting till tomorrow, Yelén? I'll have things sorted out better."
"No." The queen on the mountain wasn't angry, but she was doing to have things her way. "There are things I need to know right now. For instance, what do you think spooked Kim Tioulang?"
"I have no idea. Could you see who he was looking at when he panicked?"
"Into the crowd. I didn't have enough cameras to be more definite. My guess is he had lookouts posted, and one of them signaled that Mr. Bad was in the area."
Mr. Bad. Phil Genet. The connection was instantaneous, needed no supporting logic. "Why make a mystery of it? Give Tioulang some protection and ask him what he has in mind."
"I did. Now he won't talk."
"Surely you have truth drugs. Why not just bring him in and —" Wil stopped, suddenly ashamed. He was talking like some government policeman: "The needs of the State come first." He could rationalize, of course. This was a world without police contracts and legal systems. Till they were established, simple survival might justify such tactics. The argument was slippery, and Wil wondered how far he would slide into savagery before he found solid footing.
Yelén smiled at his embarrassment-whether from sympathy or amusement he could not tell. "I decided not to. Not yet, anyway. The low-techs hate me enough already. And it's just possible Tioulang might suicide under questioning. Some of the twentieth-century governments put pretty good psychblocks in their people. If the Peacers inherited that filthy habit... Besides, he may not know any more than we do: Someone is backing the NM faction."
Wil remembered Tioulang's sudden panic; the man feared someone in particular. "You have him protected?"
"Yes. Almost as well as you, though he doesn't know it. For the time being I won't risk snatching him."
"You want to know my favorite candidate for villain? Phil Genet."
Yelén leaned forward. "Why?"
"He showed up just a few minutes after Tioulang took off. The man reeks of evil."
"'Reeks of evil'? That's a professional opinion, is it?"
Wil rubbed his eyes. "Hey, you wanted to get my 'impressions,' remember?" But she was right; he wouldn't have put it that way if he'd been thinking straight.
"Phil's a sadist. I've known that for years. And I think he's worse now that we've got all the low-techs out of stasis — you little guys are such easy victims. I saw how he worked you over about Lindemann. I'm sorry about stunning you, Wil, but 1 can't tolerate any of the old grudges."
Wil nodded, faintly surprised. There was something near sympathy in her voice. In fact, he was grateful she had stunned him down. "Genet is capable of murder, Yelén."
"Lots of people are. What would you have done to Lindemann if... ? Look, neither of us likes Phil. That by itself is no big deal; I don't especially like you, and yet we get along. It's a matter of common interest. He helped Marta and me a lot. I doubt if we could have rescued the Peacers without his construction equipment. He's more than proved he wants the settlement to succeed."
"Maybe. But now that everyone has been brought together, perhaps your 'common interest' is dead. Maybe he wants to run. the whole show."
"Hmm. He knows none of us have a chance if we start shooting. You think he's really crazy?"
"I don't know, Yelén. Look at the recording again. I had the feeling he wasn't taunting just me. He knew you'd be listening. I think he was laughing at you, too. Like he was on the verge of some triumph, something the sadist in him couldn't resist hinting at."
"So you think he set up the glowball-and was laughing at us all the time he was 'clueing you in.' " She pursed her lips. "It doesn't make sense... but I guess I'm paying for your intuition as much as anything else. I'll break a few more autons out of stasis, try to keep better tabs on Phil."
She sat back, and for a moment Wil thought she might be done with him. "Okay. I want to go over your other conversations." She noticed his expression. "Look, Inspector. I didn't ask you to socialize for your health. You're my low-tech point of vie". We've got a murder here, incipient civil war, and everybody's general dislike for me. Just about everything A saw today has a connection with these things. I want you reactions while they're fresh."
So they reviewed the picnic. Literally. Yelén insisted o, playing much of the video. She really did need help. Whether it was the centuries of living apart or her high-tech viewpoint , Wil didn't know, but there were many things about the picnic she didn't understand. She had no sympathy for the women dilemma. The first time they viewed the women's meeting, she made an obscure comment about "people having to pay for other people's mistakes." Was she referring to the Korolev failure to bring womb tanks?
Wil had her play the scene again, and he tried to explain Finally she became a little angry. "Sure they've got to make sacrifices. But don't they realize it's the survival of the human race that's at stake?" She waved her hand. "I can't believe their nature is that different from earlier centuries. When the crunch comes, they'll do what they must." Would the queen
on the mountain also do her female duty? Would she have six kids-or twelve? Brierson didn't voice the question. He could do without a Korolev explosion.
The sunlight streaming through Yelén's windows slowly shifted from morning to afternoon. The clock on Wil's data set showed it was way past the Witching Hour. If they kept going he'd be seeing real sunlight, through his own windows. Finally the analysis wound back to Wil's conversation with Jason Mudge. Korolev stopped him. "You can take Mudge off your list of suspects, Inspector."
Wil had been about to say the same. He simulated curiosity -Why?"
"The jerk fell off the cliffs last night, right on his point head."
Brierson lurched to wakefulness. "You mean, he's dead?
"Dead beyond all possible resuscitation, Inspector. For a his God-mongering, he was no teetotaler. The autopsy showed blood alcohol at 0.22 percent. He left the party a little befog you ran into Lindemann. Apparently he couldn't find anyone who'd even pretend to listen. The last I saw he was weaving along the westward bluffs. He got about fifteen hundred meters down the path, must have slipped where it comes near the cliff edge. One of my routine patrols found the body just after you got back here. He'd been in the water a couple of hours."
He rested his chin in his palms and slowly shook his head.
Yelén. Yelén. We've talked all through the night, and all that time your autons have been investigating and dissecting... and never a word that a man has died. "I asked you to keep an eye on him.
"Well, I decided not to. He just wasn't that important." Korolev was silent a moment. Something of his attitude must have penetrated. "Look, Brierson, I'm not happy he died. Eventually he might have dropped that 'Third Coming' garbage and been of some use. But face it: The man was a parasite, and having him out of the way is one less suspect-however farfetched."
"Okay, Yelén. It's okay."
He should have guessed the effect of his assurance. Yelén leaned forward. "Are you really that paranoid, Brierson? Do you think Mudge was murdered, too?"
Maybe. What might Mudge know that could make it worth silencing him? He owned little high-tech equipment, yet he did know systems. Maybe he'd been the murderer's pet vandal, now deemed a liability. Wil tried to remember what they had talked about, but all that came was the little guy's intent expression. Of course, Yelén would be willing to play the conversation back. Again and again. It was the last thing he wanted now. "Let our paranoias go their separate ways, Yelén. If I think of anything, I'll let you know."