With these thoughts Sam realized that maybe he was beginning to understand life in the shadows, but paranoia only took a person so far.
When Sam directed the chip at Wilson’s data files, the screen obligingly filled with lists of documents. None were secure research files, but that was no surprise. Lofwyr’s generosity did not extend to revelations about Wilson’s work.
Out of curiosity, Sam accessed the research director’s personnel file. Most of it was routine, showing the steady progress of Wilson’s career with only one or two reprimands for exceeding the budget on minor projects. Nothing indicated either the corp’s dissatisfaction with Wilson or his work. Indeed, Sam noted that Wilson had reported several attempts to bribe him and attempts by agents of United Oil to seduce him away from Genomics for his work with gene-tailored organisms. If Wilson was working outside the corporation, it was still a secret from his bosses.
More than ever, Sam wanted to know the nature of the doctor’s research. He tried again, specifing that the chip seek out research files, but all he got back were “unacceptable instructions” messages. Using some tricks that Dodger had taught him, he set up an override program on the cyberterminal and applied it to Lofwyr’s chip. The sideways approach slipped the chip’s overrides and placed its penetration programs at his disposal. Grinning with satisfaction he ordered the chip to duplicate its routines onto a blank cartridge. But when he slotted it into the console, he barely managed an abort when the chip flashed “copy attempts will erase all data.” He sighed; it had been worth a try. If he was to do anything with Lofwyr’s powerful can opener, it would have to be today.
He sent the chip after Wilson’s research files.
An hour of coaxing and prodding got him to a data cache labeled REPLICATION PATTERNING. It contained the only file of any size that read positive for the key word “albinism.” The cache was enormous and locked up tight. It took Sam another hour to open it, a feat only possible with the capabilities of Lofwyr’s chip.
Time was running out. He browsed through at a rapid scan, passing extensive sections of technical documentation and experimental data as well as abstruse calculations, many of which he realized were magical formulae. That was not surprising, for Wilson was a mage. But linking magic with controversial biotechnological techniques seemed innately wrong to Sam.
When he jumped ahead to FIELD TEST RESULTS, almost immediately he was appalled. Wilson’s experiments involved sentient beings, and despite the clinical euphemisms, it was apparent that all the experiments had ended in the subjects’ deaths. Filled with dread as much as the urgent need to know, he called up a visual record attached to ORGANISM 5: COMPLETE PATTERN REPLICATION. Five was the highest number in the series.
What he saw only deepened his fears. Wilson’s Organism 5 was vaguely humanoid and its featureless skin was starkly white. As white as that of the albino with Hart’s team the night of his escape from the Renraku arcology. Before his eyes, the thing approached and embraced a man strapped to a vertical surface. What he saw next filled him with horror. While he watched, the thing insinuated extrusions into the flesh of its victim, who reacted with excruciating pain. Sam was glad there was no sound on the record. Meanwhile, Organism 5’s flesh twisted and molded until it was an exact copy of the man who lay limp in the restraints. Sam retched onto Wilson’s floor.
Wilson, through arts arcane and scientific, had created something demonic, a changeling that could steal a person’s shape. That was why the albino hadn’t left with Hart. It bad taken the shape of someone inside the arcology. Renraku harbored a viper that it believed to be a loyal employee. Now he knew why he and Hanae and most of Hart’s team had been betrayed to the Tir Tairngire border guards. The mastermind of this plot wanted to be sure no one lived to tell any tales.
Did Drake know that Sam was still alive? If so, he would continue trying to kill him. Perhaps the fiery destruction of the panzer had made Drake’s tool Tessien believe that both Sam and Begay had perished in the wreck. Jacqueline had implied as much. Lofwyr’s statement that Sam was an “unanticipated player” also confirmed the notion. If Drake believed that Sam was dead, that slim advantage might allow Sam to get to Drake first.
Sam looked down at the mess he had made. He’d never be able to explain it away if he was here when Wilson returned, which could be any minute now. He had to get out, fast. He popped Lofwyr’s chip, hoping that the abrupt exit might damage Wilson’s precious files. While removing the evidence of his presence, he noticed a few cartridges with the Genomics proprietary seal. He tossed them into his case. Before heading the the door, he cleaned himself off as best he could. If he looked too out of place or hurried too much, he’d never get off the premises.
Can you tell me where I might find Dr. Wilson?” he asked the secretary.
“He left in such a hurry. Mr. Voss… I could call around and find him for you.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ve finished here and left a message for the doctor in his office, It’s nothing urgent. No need to disturb him.”
Sam walked down the corridor, wishing that he could run all the way to the airstrip. He felt dirty, as though he were walking through a cesspit instead of the shining white walls and spotless floors of Genomics. He wanted to be clean again. Each stop at a security station was an agony as he anticipated an alarm. None came, but he didn’t relax again until long after Lofwyr’s jet had lifted him into the sky.
39
“I’m telling you, Crenshaw, I don’t like it.”
“And I’m telling you to shut up.”
“But it’s dangerous out here,” Addison whined. “I’d rather be back in my cubicle, decking against the Special Directorate I know how to handle IC.”
The hour was still early and most of the native wildlife hadn’t crawled out from whatever smelly holes they hid in during the day, but Addison crowded her as though he feared the dilapidated buildings themselves might try to bite him. She didn’t like the Puyallup Barrens any better, but she knew enough not to show fear in the face of a predator. At the very least, there would be several watching from shadowed alleys or darkened glass-toothed windows. Addison’s nervousness could mark them as outsiders, targets. If that triggered an attack, his nearness could hamper her response. She could get hurt.
She backhanded him across the shoulder and widened the distance. He blinked in surprise. “Just shut up. Keep talking and it will get dangerous. If this deal goes sour because of you, you can try walking back to the arcology.”