Venturo saw them. His steps sped up a fraction.
Renata fell silent.
Claire looked down at her tablet.
Venturo stopped by them. "Renata, where is the new hire? The refugee?"
Claire glanced up. Renata cleared her throat and pointed at Claire with her stylus. Venturo turned. His eyes narrowed.
For a brief, tiny second the two of them were alone in the Universe, and then he nodded. "Love the hair. I need the summary of the Sangori file."
He turned and stalked into his office.
Renata jerked her head in the direction of his retreating back and mouthed, "Go."
Claire smiled inwardly and followed.
Venturo landed in his chair, his face dark, and leaned back, hands on the arm rest. The door slid shut, sealing them from the rest of the offices. Claire sat.
"Sangori File," Claire began, enunciating clearly to let him tag it in his head. "Principals: Savien Sangori, head of the family, sixty-two years old, grey hair, stocky build, tendency to lick his lips when he is nervous."
"Was this in the file?" he asked.
"This was in the news footage which I watched this morning. It was recorded when he was interviewed last year in connection with insider trading."
He nodded. "Continue."
"Maureen Sangori, wife of Savien, fifty-seven years old, dark hair, lean, Combat implant of at least B level. Prefers knives. Quick to anger. Likes the color white: white dress, white flowers, white aerial..."
It took her about an hour to recite the Sangori file. Sangori Finances, the investment concern with net worth of one point two billion credits, had grown too large for the common computing solutions. The firm prepared to switch to bionet by launching the new incarnation of the management system that allowed their clients instant access to their portfolio. They were in desperate need of a bionet safety solution and Guardian Inc. was happy to provide them with one.
Venturo listened with his eyes closed without interruptions. There was always a chance that she miscalculated, but most psychers perceived and processed the information similarly. She had presented it the way her own mind analyzed it, except she preferred her cues to be visual.
"End file," she said.
Venturo opened his eyes.
A digital screen chimed. "Sangori appointment in twenty minutes, Red Conference Room."
Ven stood up, went to the door, and paused by Renata's desk. "Take her off routine processing."
"For how long?" Renata asked.
"Until further notice." Ven started down the hallway and turned, walking backward. "Come on."
Claire pointed at herself. "Me?"
"Who else?"
She caught up with him. "Where are we going?"
"To my Sangori appointment. I may need another point of view."
She hid a grin and followed him into the elevator.
Chapter Four
Claire strode down the hallway, her heels clicking lightly on the transparent floor, her tablet in her hand. She wore a pale green dress that set off her hair and her new tan. The day was winding down, and the week with it.
The hallway brought her to thirty-three twelve, a wide room nicknamed the Wheel. The Wheel consisted of a round common area from which a dozen office rooms branched in a circle. From above it looked like a flower with a circular middle and elongated petals.
People emerged from the offices at her approach. Hands held out pseudopapers and data strips. She was a link to Ven and everyone wanted to get their bit in before the Friday rolled to a close.
"Earnings projections for the next twin-week!"
"What do you want me to do about Vinogradov case?" Marto asked.
"He will look at it this afternoon," she replied.
"What about Hawk Corp.?" Liana asked.
"Monday." Claire smiled.
"Here's the Bodia summary."
When she made it to the lift, her hands were full. No matter how well Venturo treated his employees and how ethical he was in keeping his mind to himself, the non-psychers never could get read of a nagging suspicion that he might be scanning their thoughts. She'd been on the receiving end of these suspicions before: people who went out of their way to avoid her, never discourteous but always cautious. It made her isolated. Psychers stuck together, because the rest of the world was rarely welcoming.
Claire turned and watched the sun shine through the solar panels, as the elevator moved upward. In the month she had spent as Venturo's assistant, she managed to become an indispensable link between him and the support staff. They saw her as safe, a buffer between them and Venturo's lethal brain. It was at once so much more than she thought she would achieve and so much less than she was capable off.
The doors whispered open, and she exited the elevator, heading for Venturo's office. It was Friday. The weekend was just around the corner.
Having two days off after the lifetime of weekend consisting of half-days on Sunday seemed like a decadent luxury. The first three weekends she slept, tried take-out from the neighboring restaurants, and watched broadcasts, soaking up information about the Province of Dahlia like a sponge. She'd finally decided she had enough understanding of the customs and planned to venture to the Terraces this weekend.
She saw him through the translucent door at the end of the hallway: he stood by his desk, his wide back to her, talking to a digital screen, the line of his shoulders tense. Something unpleasant.
Things with Venturo had become progressively complicated. She no longer stared in stunned silence when she saw him, but as they worked together, the facets of his personality became apparent. Venturo had a fierce intellect and relentless drive to succeed, knitted together by a kind of arrogance evolved from understanding your own power.
Venturo had definite ideas about how things had to be and he held himself to these strict standards. In the month she acted as his personal aide, she had seen him furious over a stupid mistake an employee made, yet when the same employee meekly came to the slaughter, Venturo treated him with tact and flawless politeness. On two occasions, Ven ran around the building, trying to hide from his aunt and an invitation to some family function, until Lienne lost her patience and turned her mind into a glowing beacon of light, mind-scanning the place for him, but in their interactions he would be respectful to her without fail.
It was this control that drew her in. The more she learned about him, the more she was drawn to him. That and the small, seemingly insignificant things he did for her. He opened the door for her. She had discovered that the drink machine in the Wheel dispensed tea in thirty different flavors, and after a hard day of work, when Ven would make his evening pilgrimage to get himself a coffee, he would bring her a cup of hot tea. He sought her opinion, and he would ask her seemingly random things. Did she have a chance to go the Botanical Gardens? Has she been to the Terraces?
He must've been something else on the bionet. She would never know. He would never see her on the bionet either.
Lucky for her, her ability to control her emotions was never in question. She was never less than professional in their interactions.
The office door slid open. Claire stepped inside.
Venturo turned. She read fury in his eyes. His mind churned and broiled. "We're about to lose the Sangori account."
What? "To whom?" she asked.
"De Solis Security."
DSS. The Guardian's biggest rival.
Claire reviewed the facts. Bionet safety consisted of two phases: the establishment and the maintenance. The establishment meant installation of static security mechanisms and structuring the bionet in the way that would lead an intruder into these defenses The maintenance consisted of responding to active threats. Of the two, the establishment phase was the most costly and the most labor-intensive. Because of the danger involved, the maintenance brought in a larger amount of money but required fewer man-hours.