Interesting. I can find no reference to Fabian Whitehurst's birth certificate in any public memory core. The birth was simply not registered. However, I've been accessing recent gossipcasts, the boy has been to several society parties over the last nine months.
The terminal's second cube came alive, showing her the image of a mid-teens boy with long, floppy dark hair. She could see some resemblance to Jason. The boy was a lively one, she thought, bright and sparky; years of trying to contain Matthew taught her the signs.
I wonder why Jason never mentioned him to me? she mused.
There was no need for him to tell you, her grandfather said. No reason why you should know.
Grandpa, if anyone I know has a child I'm given their age, school record, told they adore dogs and horses, and get shown their hologram, all within fifteen seconds. Anything that'll get them invited to play with Daniella and Matthew. And this Fabian looks about the same age as Daniella.
Jason Whitehurst isn't an arriviste.
Maybe not. But why isn't there a record of Fabian's birth?
Got me there, girl.
OK, I want a more detailed profile of Jason Whitehurst assembled, centred on his life sixteen, fifteen, and fourteen years ago. Finance, personal, the works, every byte. I don't know exactly how old this Fabian child is, but he's around that age. Find a trace of him. Look for unexplained payments to women, and possibly medical clinics as well. Given Jason's sexual orientation, I'd guess at an in vitro fertilization and a host mother.
You got it, Juliet.
I have established a link with the Colonel Maitland, NN core two said.
Jason Whitehurst appeared on the study's phone screen. He was sitting at some kind of desk, wearing a white shirt, open at the neck to reveal an MCC cravat. There was a window behind him, showing nothing by sky.
"Julia, this is a somewhat unexpected pleasure. I wasn't aware I was taking incoming calls."
"I know, Jason, and I apologize for interrupting your communication circuits like this, but we do need to talk."
"Certainly, I was going to call you today anyway."
Julia felt a trickle of relief in her mind. At least they weren't going to play the euphemisms game. She tried to gauge his mood, which wasn't easy over a phone vid. But he was definitely riding an up.
She thought for a moment, unsure of what to say. What exactly was she asking him for? Charlotte Fielder, or should there be something more?
"I'm looking for someone, a Miss Charlotte Fielder. Apparently she left the Newfields ball with your son, Fabian."
There was a slight tightening around Jason Whitehurst's mouth at the mention of Fabian. "She left with me, that is so."
Interesting, her grandfather said. The old bastard's cagey about the tyke.
Do you think I could use that? she asked.
Bloody hell, girl, don't you ever listen to me? Don't ever ask a question unless you already know the answer. How would you use the boy? Tell me that, hey?
Sorry, Grandpa. It was just that she was so used to negotiating from a position of strength. Spoilt.
"I'd like to talk to her, Jason."
"There are several people who would, my dear Julia. But I'm sure you and I can sort out a deal."
Bugger the man, her grandfather said. Juliet, you have got to get that Fielder girl. She's not something he can sell twice. If she knows where the flower came from, then she knows where the alien is, and quite possibly all that atomic structuring technology. He's going to ask for a ridiculous sum, but pay it. You can't afford not to.
Maybe, Grandpa, but we can certainly apply some pressure here.
Jason Whitehurst was regarding her with polite expectation.
"I'd like you to receive my representative," she told him. "He can be at the Colonel Maitland in an hour or so. And he's fully empowered to negotiate on my behalf."
"I hadn't anticipated face-to-face meetings, Julia. My intention is to hold an auction. How else could I ascertain her true worth?"
"Perhaps you don't appreciate just how high the stakes are in this instance, Jason. I don't think an open bidding session would be to your advantage. Acknowledging that you hold Fielder could prove dangerous. Someone uncovering the location of the Colonel Maitland was inevitable. If nothing else, the amount of effort I've expended in finding you ought to tell you how deep you're in. Of course, you know you can trust me not to exploit the knowledge. But there are some parties involved here who won't hold your physical safety in such high regard."
Jason Whitehurst pulled on his beard. "Just the one man?"
"Absolutely, his name's Greg Mandel, and he'll have an assistant with him. They'll arrive in an ordinary civil Pegasus. Your landing pad can accommodate that."
"Very well, Julia. I'll see him." He held up a warning finger. "Nothing more. If your financial offer proves acceptable, he can take Fielder with him when he leaves. If not, you will have to compete with your rivals on a level pitch."
Julia leant forwards, schooling her face into an earnest expression. "Thank you, Jason. But please take care, at least suspend your dealings with anyone else until after Greg Mandel arrives. I don't want them finding out where you are, you're too valuable to me right now."
"I appreciate the concern, Julia. Don't worry about me." His image blanked out.
Julia let out a heavy breath, staring round the study, not really seeing it. Whenever she did have to work at Wilholm, she always used the study. With its dark panelling, chilly stone mantelpiece, and sombre glass-cased books it had the right air of sobriety. The decisions taken in here…
Atta girl, Philip Evans said. Once Greg and Suzi get out to the Colonel Maitland, old Jason's going to find his options decreasing rapidly. You did exactly the right thing.
Thank you, Grandpa. He always seemed to know when she was down. Although the mix of tension and depression that was wiring up her muscles must have given him a strong clue.
She fed the desk terminal the code for a secure link to Greg's cybofax. When his face appeared there were some small cuts on his cheeks, a splash of blue dermal seal near one eye. He was trying to damp down a scowl.
She sucked in her lower lip. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not Greg hardlining. She had promised Eleanor that, promised herself. All she wanted was Royan. "Dear Lord, are you all OK?" Victor had mentioned there had been trouble at the Prezda, a tekmerc called Reiger; but nothing about Greg being injured.
"Yeah, more or less. I don't know what sort of commendations Victor hands out, but Malcolm Ramkartra earned his today."
She just nodded meekly at the screen.
Greg seemed to relent. "I guess we were lucky, nothing a first aid kit can't patch up." He dropped his voice. "But you've gone and dumped Suzi straight into a blood vendetta. This Reiger bloke is a right fucking loony, and no messing. Two of his team were killed, and he blames Suzi for the whole shooting match. That's serious trouble, Julia. People like this, it ain't over till one of them's snuffed."
"Whatever she needs, Greg, she's got it, you know that."
"Yeah, but you know Suzi, she won't take it." His voice was still low, almost inaudible.
"Then Victor will just have get rid of Reiger for her," she heard herself saying.
"Right." He looked loaded up with remorse, like she felt.
"I've got you the co-ordinates of Jason Whitehurst's airship. And more, he's agreed to meet you and Suzi as my representatives."
"Hey, well done."
She ordered the terminal to squirt the co-ordinates over to the Pegasus. "Not entirely good news, Greg. When I called, he was getting ready to sell Charlotte Fielder to the highest bidder."
"Christ. Just how many groups are we playing against?"
"I don't know. But you can tell Suzi that crack of hers about acquiring starship technology is starting to look uncomfortably true. I've been getting some pretty strange offers from kombinates and other major-league players today, all concerning some radical technology. Our alien isn't entirely the big hush we thought it was. I'd say the first one to reach Royan is going to hit the technological jackpot. That's why you're experiencing all this heat."