“Oh. Of course not.” There was a click; Ididn’t know whether he had really broken contact, but he seemed tobe done talking.
“I assume you’ve got a surgeon lined up totake it out,” ’Chan said.
“Not yet,” I said. “We can take care of itwhen we get to Prometheus.”
“Do you have a dream booked?” Dad asked.
“No.” I saw the disapproving look on his faceand said, “I’m improvising.”
“You should have left me in the tank.”
“Yes, I probably should,” I agreed, “but Ididn’t trust Seventh Heaven to keep you alive in there once theTrap is in daylight.”
“I hate this, Carlie,” he said. “Everythinghurts, and sometimes it’s boring, and it seems dangerous. Someonecould have shot at that cab, or at this ship.”
“Run it,” I said. “We should have you savedin a new tank in a couple of days.”
“You know, you made a real mess back there,”’Chan said. “Kidnaping and extortion and an unauthorized launch andprobably a lot I don’t know about. You better keep the Nakadasreally happy; they’re going to need to pay off a lot ofpeople to clean that up.”
“I intend to satisfy my client,” I said.
’Chan heard the certainty in my voice. “Soyou think you know who killed Grandfather Nakada?”
I grimaced. “Nobody did,” I said.
’Chan couldn’t move his legs, but he threw uphis hands at that. “Then what did they hire you for? If he died ofnatural causes, what do they need with a detective?”
“He didn’t die,” I said. I started to explainfurther, then stopped; it wasn’t any of ’Chan’s business.
“What, he faked his death? Why would he dothat?”
I shook my head. “It’s complicated,” I said.“You don’t need to know. All you need to know is that I got you outof Nightside City.”
“With my legs locked up and my accountsprobably frozen.”
“We’ll get that fixed. We’ll get the implantout, and we’ll get your money to Prometheus. You’ll be fine.”
“The Ginza is going to be furious if I don’tgo back.”
“Screw the Ginza and IRC. We’ll take care ofit.”
He stared at me. “You’re running that smoothwith the Nakadas?”
“I hope so.” I looked at Singh. “You haven’tbeen saying much.”
He shrugged. “I don’t have much to say. Iwanted a ride off Epimetheus, and I’m getting one; I’m happy.”
“A man of simple code,” I said. “I likethat.”
“I may need some help with a breach ofcontract suit from Seventh Heaven.”
“If they bother,” I said.
“I said ‘may.’”
I nodded.
Singh started to say something else, thentook a look at my face and stopped; I guess he realized I wasn’tlistening any more.
I was thinking.
I was thinking about what Seventh Heavenmight do about a stolen customer and poached employee, and that ledme to the conclusion that it depended on the personalitiesinvolved, which led to me wondering exactly who the locals were whoowned the Eta Cass franchise of Seventh Heaven, and that led meback to the back door into their systems, the back door that oldYoshio had had installed, but which someone else had recently beenusing.
Yoshio had the back door installed when hewas thinking of acquiring the company, or at least the localdivision-I didn’t know whether he’d been interested in the homeoffice on Mars. Well, what if whoever had used the back door justbefore me had also been thinking about buying up the Eta Cassfranchise of Seventh Heaven? With the dawn maybe a year away, thewhole thing was probably available cheap.
In fact, maybe the original Yoshio hadreconsidered and was taking another look. Yoshio-kunwouldn’t know that, and the old man probably wouldn’t have botheredmentioning it to me, since so far as he knew it was just anotherbyte of business and had nothing to do with the tampering with hisdream enhancer. Grandfather Nakada himself wasn’t on Epimetheus andhadn’t been lately, and I didn’t think he could have used that backdoor over interplanetary distances; the delay in response timebetween Epimetheus and Prometheus was about eighteen minutes at themoment, and you couldn’t sustain a connection with a break likethat in it. He could have had one of his agents checking it out,though.
But if that was the case, then whoever usedthe back door hadn’t needed the old man’s ITEOD files to getaccess.
So maybe our little corporate explorer andthe party who faked the old man’s death weren’t the same person atall; maybe it was just a coincidence, and the fraud had been aftersomething else in the ITEOD files. Or maybe there was a connectionI was missing.
Or maybe Yoshio had nothing to do with theintrusions, and I’d been right the first time. Or this was all partof some complicated corporate espionage that the old man might ormight not know about.
I would have to ask him a few questions oncewe were safely back in American City.
But there were things I could check righthere. “Ukiba,” I said, “research request-I want to know theexact ownership of the local franchise of Seventh HeavenNeurosurgery, including any recent changes in ownership, or bidsfor purchase or control.”
“Working,” the ship replied. “How would youprefer the data to be presented?”
“Text display.”
“Available.”
We were clearing atmosphere by then, or atany rate the noise and vibration had subsided, so I was able tomake my way to a terminal and look at what the ship had pulled offthe nets-or maybe it had the information in its own files allalong, for all I know; it might be something the old man liked tokeep current.
As I suspected from its location, aboutthirty-four percent of Seventh Heaven Neurosurgery of EtaCassiopeia was owned by IRC. Another eleven percent was owned byNew Bechtel-Rand. The rest was spread across dozens of smallinvestors, all based in the Eta Cass system, some in NightsideCity, some on Prometheus.
And someone was trying to negotiate atakeover. An investment group calling itself Corporate Initiativeshad approached IRC, New Bechtel-Rand, and several of the othershareholders with a tender offer-or rather, looking at the times,someone was approaching them right now.
I pulled up everything available on CorporateInitiatives. There wasn’t much. Most of the listed contacts weresoftware, the legal filings were all as vague as possible, theaddresses were all just mail drops.
I knew there had to be a human agent listedsomewhere, and eventually I found her. Her name was Chantilly Rhee,and at least legally, she was a resident of American City.
That was a surprise; I’d expected the wholething to be based in Nightside City, or at least somewhere onEpimetheus. I asked for her background.
She was nine going on ten in Prometheanyears-twenty-six Epimethean, twenty-seven Terran. That was tooyoung to be the real power here, I was pretty sure. Born inMuriel-that was a mining town on a caldera island just off the NineIslands archipelago, a couple of hundred kilometers west ofAmerican City. That didn’t tell me anything. Her parents weren’tanyone special, a roomscape artist and a tactile therapist. Twoyounger sisters. Standard online education, got her checkmark whenshe was just five-sixteen Terran. Took half a year to travel, thenfound a job and settled in American City.
But then I saw what that job was, and Mis’Rhee got very interesting.
She was personal assistant to KumikoNakada-Yoshio Nakada’s only surviving daughter.
Of course, Chantilly Rhee’s involvementdidn’t mean that Yoshio’s daughter was the one behind theassassination attempt; for one thing, if this was all connected andKumiko was really the villain of the piece, I’d expect her to do abetter job of hiding it. This could be coincidence, ormisdirection, or one corner of a conspiracy.
Whatever it was, though, at least I finallyhad a suspect. When I got to American City I intended to have achat with Grandfather Nakada, and then a little talk with hisdaughter. I doubted I would be able to get within twenty meters ofher ordinarily, but with her father’s backing I thought I ought tobe able to arrange a conversation.